Page 20 of Claimed By the Cowboys

“I am?” Brandy slides into the spare seat and begins unwrapping a burger.

“You are.”

Jensen tosses me a burger, and I sit on the mattress edge to eat.

“Very. I mean, look at tonight. Me and my brother were at the Dusty Boot for a quiet drink, and suddenly, we’ve been persuaded to service your every need. I don’t even remember how it happened, that’s how good you are.”

She laughs, patting her mouth with a napkin. “Yeah, I’m not sure that’s how it went.”

“Oh, that’s definitely how it went. In fact, I’m starting to think you were using us for our bodies.”

“This is definitely getting turned around.”

I shake my head. “Your body was a factor. Sure. But not the main one.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. First, there’s your smile. Then there’s your laugh. Then, the things you say.”

“The things I say.”

“Yeah. You’re interesting.”

She presses her lips together, but her eyes are sparkling. “Interesting. My tales of care-home woes and child-rearing frustrations. Totally thrilling.”

“Beats horses, fences, and feed for sure,” Jensen says, earning himself a smile.

Brandy moans around the food like it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted, and both of us watch her like lovesick idiots.

“Tell us about your day,” I say, standing to take a box of onion rings.

She sips the chocolate shake and leans back, looking like a goddess wrapped in ancient robes. “Annie took the day off for her birthday, but she came in at lunchtime with a huge box of donuts. Made everyone's day.”

“So donuts are the route to your heart?” Jensen asks.

“Everyone loves donuts,” she says, skirting the true meaning of his question.

“Not Bo.”

She looks at me, surprised.

“They’re greasy, and there’s something kind of plasticky about them.”

“The cheap ones, maybe. What sweet treat do you like?”

“Lemon cake. Basically, anything lemony.”

“Give me a plastic strawberry donut any time,” Jensen says.

Brandy nods like she’s filing away our preferences for another time, and my heart gives a hopeful clench. I bet she’s good in the kitchen. I can hold my own, but there’s something so sexy about a woman who loves food and can cook up a storm.

We tell her about the ranch we’re running now, and about the horses I train and the business side Jensen handles. I tell her we’ve settled here for good.

She goes quiet for a moment but then smiles brightly like she’s put on a mask. “You sure Rockwell Ridge is the place you want to spend the rest of your days?”

“It’s as good a place as any,” I say.

“It’s looking even better from where I’m sitting,” Jensen says.