Page 64 of Claimed By the Cowboys

Mama studies my face for a long moment. The worry in her eyes is deep and unresolved.

“You’re really serious,” she says. It isn’t quite a question.

“I am.”

She stares down at Daddy’s grave, then Jasmine's. Silence stretches, and I watch helplessly, waiting for her to respond. Eventually, she straightens her shoulders, braced to face something difficult head-on.

“Then take me to them,” she says. “Now.”

My heart stutters.

“Mama—”

“If these men are everything you say they are, I need to see it with my own eyes. I won’t pretend I’m comfortable. I won’t pretend this sits easy with me. But I won’t stand here and watch you choose a path without at least understanding what you’re walking toward.”

She looks down at the graves one last time, at Daddy’s name, at Jasmine’s, then back at me.

“Take me to their ranch, Brandy.”

I nod because my throat is too tight for words and then rise on unsteady legs. We gather the empty flower sleeves in silence and walk back toward the car together.

Chapter 35

Jensen

Bo stands on the porch steps, quiet and still. It’s how he gets when something important is about to happen. I tie my shoelaces as Brandy’s car approaches.

She’s not alone.

She parks near the house and steps out first. Her mama follows more slowly, her pressed clothes neat, her posture straight, and her eyes taking in everything.

Brandy’s face is tight with nerves. She gives us a small, almost apologetic look as they approach.

“Mama,” she says, “this is Bo and Jensen. Bo, Jensen… This is my mother, Loretta.”

I take off my hat and hold it against my chest. Bo does the same.

“Ma’am,” I say, tipping my head. “It’s good to meet you.”

Loretta’s gaze moves between us, sharp and assessing. She doesn’t offer her hand right away. She studies our faces like she’s looking for the catch.

“You’re the ones from the hospital,” she says.

“Yes, ma’am,” Bo answers, voice steady.

I clear my throat. “Would you like to come inside? Or we can sit on the porch if you’d rather. We have some sweet tea.”

She considers for a moment, then nods once. “The porch is fine.”

We settle into the wooden chairs. Brandy sits close to her mother. I pour the tea, then Bo and I take the seats across from them. A horse nickers somewhere near the barn. The ordinary sounds of the ranch are loud in the tense silence that lingers.

Loretta sets her purse neatly on her lap. “My daughter tells me the two of you have been… involved with her.”

“Yes, ma’am.” No point dancing around it. “We have. And we’d like to keep being involved, for as long as she’ll have us.”

Her mouth tightens. “Both of you.”

“Both of us,” Bo confirms.