Page 68 of Claimed By the Cowboys

The front door opens in a burst of cold air and noise.

“We’re here!” Claire calls, herding her two boys inside, followed by Jackson, who’s carrying bags of gifts. They must have left at the crack of dawn. Her belly is round and swollen, peeking out between her skirt and her sweater. Harrison and Brayden dump their coats in a heap and make a beeline for the tree. Within seconds, the four kids are in a pile of laughter and tangled limbs, comparing presents and arguing over who gets to open the next one. I kiss my sister's cheek and shake my brother-in-law's hand, wishing everyone a merry Christmas. Claire pulls the pompom on my Santa hat, laughing at how silly I look.

“You never heard of Santa Cowboy?” I ask.

Naomi rolls her eyes. “Santa isn’t a cowboy. There aren’t any cows in the North Pole.”

“You sure about that?” I tease. “How does he make his coffee without any milk?”

She scrunches her face in thought, and I laugh as Bo comes in from the porch, stomping dirt off his boots. He catches my eye and grins in a way that only started when Brandy told us she loved us. My brother found peace that day, and it suits him.

From the kitchen comes the smell of pancakes and the soft clink of dishes. Loretta stands at the stove in one of Brandy’s aprons, flipping the next batch with practiced ease. She glances over her shoulder when the kids’ volume rises and shakes her head, but there’s a smile tugging at her mouth.

And then there’s Brandy.

She’s standing near the doorway in red plaid pajamas and a pair of fluffy candy-cane socks, with hair still a little messy from sleep, and cheeks warm from the heat of the kitchen, greeting Claire and Jackson. When she sees me watching, she beams bright and unguarded and so beautiful it still knocks the air out of my chest. Her hand cups the curve of her belly where our baby grows. She got pregnant almost immediately, and we were all so happy, we cried like babies.

Soft hymns play from the speaker on the mantel. The turkey is already in the oven, filling the whole house with the promise of the meal still hours away. Outside, the winter wind stirs the trees, but inside, everything is noise, warmth, and family.

I lean against the doorframe and take it in for a minute.

So much has changed.

In the beginning, the kids were wary. Elijah clung to Brandy’s leg every time we came near. Naomi watched us with those sharp, careful eyes, like she was waiting for the moment we’d prove we weren’t sticking around. Thanks to slow afternoons with the horses, patient explanations, and letting them set the pace, things began to change. One day Elijah asked if he could help feed the chickens, and Naomi started bringing her sketchbook out to the porch to draw the colors of the sunset next to Bo, and something shifted. The wide-open space and the animals worked their magic. Now the kids run through this house like they were born to it and roam the land like two wildlings.

Loretta had it harder in some ways. The church ladies talked. A few so-called friends stopped calling. She heard the whispers, bore the careful questions, and the judgments dressed up as concern. But she faced it. She stood beside her daughter when it counted and told anyone who asked that Brandy had found good men who treated her right. It wasn’t easy for her. I don’t think it will ever be completely easy. But she shows up. She cooks in our kitchen. And that matters more than any of us can say.

When Brandy let the lease lapse on her place, Loretta took the chance to move into a retirement community. It was good for her, and a chance to meet new friends outside of the church who have been more accepting of our family.

Life is short. And love is worth making compromises for. I’m thankful Brandy has a mother who learned the important lessons and didn’t want to lose her daughter to save herself from the judgment of others.

And then there was the wedding, which proved everything we’d already confirmed.

Me and Bo tossed a coin in the barn one quiet evening after Brandy said yes. Bo called tails. It came up heads. I got to be the one who signed the papers and slid the ring onto her finger in front of the small group of people who mattered. I get to be her official husband, but the title doesn’t mean much in practice. We both claimed Brandy that day and made her our wife. We both belong to her. The love we built doesn’t fit within ordinary lines, and we’ve stopped trying to make it fit.

Brandy catches me still staring and walks over, slipping her arms around my waist. I pull her in close and press a kiss to the top of her head, feeling like the luckiest man alive. Since she moved in, she’s done so much for us, turning our rustic bachelor pad into a plush and comfortable home, organizing the business side and cooking up a storm. We share the chores, which keeps the place running. I’ve grown to enjoy trying to impress Brandy and the kids with new recipes, and Bo reads an awesome bedtime story. We encouraged Brandy to cut down her hours at the care home so that she can collect the kids after school. We’ve made sure she knows that we want to do our quota of school runs and appointments. This is a family where we share responsibility and each do what we need to pull weight.

Brandy even has time to rest in her special room while she grows our child. The outbuilding has become a place we all enjoy spending time in. We have board games, and a small speaker we can play music through. The walls are peppered with the children’s drawings. Naomi proudly presented us with a family drawing for Christmas, which Loretta helped her frame. It features all of us, an unusual but happy family, with our home in the background, and enough animals to fill Old MacDonald’s farm. Me and Bo flank Brandy, complete with our Stetsons, and it proved to me that we’ve succeeded in making a family the children can thrive in, and that’s even before our new addition arrives.

“You okay?” Brandy murmurs.

“More than okay, darlin’.” I rest my chin on her hair and look out at the room. Bo is now down on the floor helping Elijah with a stubborn piece of packaging, Loretta’s setting another plate of pancakes on the table, and Claire is laughing with Jackson as her boys try to drag Naomi into a game. “Just thinking about how we got here.”

She tips her head back to smile up at me. “Worth every hard part.”

“Yeah,” I murmur. “It was.”

We claimed our woman. And somewhere along the way, she'd claimed us right back.

And every single day since, we’ve been living the kind of happily ever after that doesn’t need to look like anyone else’s to be real.

Thanks for reading Claimed by the Cowboys. To read more from Brandy, Bo and Jensen, click HERE for a bonus chapter.

Looking for another reverse harem story?

Keep reading for an excerpt from Auctioned to the Lumberjacks.

EXCERPT - Auctioned to the Lumberjacks