Page 26 of Claimed By the Cowboys

And everything is breezy until I see them.

Bo and Jensen are walking down the sidewalk towards us, shoulder to shoulder, looking every bit the rugged ranchers they are. Their dark-blond hair is hidden beneath wide-brimmed hats, but their broad shoulders, worn jeans, and boots are unmistakable. The shape of them is so familiar to me already, I could pick them out even if I couldn’t see their faces. My heart slams against my ribs.

Oh God.

I freeze mid-step, gripping Elijah’s hand tighter.

They’re going to see me.

They’re going to stop and make a scene.

Maybe they’ll say something that will set the whole town talking. Mama will notice. The kids will ask questions.

But they don’t.

Bo’s stormy eyes find mine first. For a brief second, heat flares in his gaze, raw and unmistakable. Jensen’s mouth curves into that easy, devastating smile. They both slow for half a heartbeat.

Then, with perfect control, they tip their hats in unison.

“Afternoon,” Jensen says.

Bo gives a small nod, his expression serious with longing. “Ma’am.”

And they keep walking.

I stand there on the sidewalk, heart thundering, turning to watch their broad backs disappear down the street, even though I know I shouldn’t. They move so easily together like animals used to traveling as a pack.

Heat rushes through me so fast I’m dizzy.

They respected my space in public, even though I know exactly how possessive they can be behind closed doors.

“Mommy—Auntie Brandy, can I get sprinkles?” Elijah tugs on my hand, completely oblivious.

I blink hard and force a smile, my heart breaking a little at his error. “Yeah, baby. You can get sprinkles.”

Naomi looks up at me curiously. “Who were those men?”

“Just… some people from town,” I say, voice a little too bright. “Come on, let’s get that ice cream.”

I don’t look at mama. I don’t want to see if her suspicions have been raised.

We cross the street and head inside the shop, the bell jingling cheerfully above us. While the kids press their faces against the glass case, debating flavors, I keep stealing glances out the window toward where Bo and Jensen disappeared.

I want them.

God help me, I want them so badly it scares me.

It’s a visceral ache, not only for their bodies, but for how beautiful and taken care of I feel when I’m with them. I want the version of life they’re claiming to offer. The one where I don’t have to carry everything alone. Where I can be me without the overwhelming responsibility, just for a little while. Where we can laugh and share stories and burgers to our hearts content. Where I can learn all their little habits and they can learn mine. Where we’re familiar enough with each other to finish each other’s sentences and sit in silence comfortably.

But wanting and having are two very different things.

I order the kids their ice cream and get mama and myself each a small cup of lemon sorbet, even though my appetite has vanished. As we sit on the little bench outside, watching people walk by, I let the cold sweetness melt on my tongue and try to ignore the ache in my chest.

This is Bo’s favorite flavor. He’d moan a little when he tasted the first spoonful. Maybe he’d even want to eat it off my naked body.

I shake my head at my ridiculousness.

Two cowboys tipped their hats to me like perfect gentlemen.