Page 2 of Auctioned to the Cowboy

Angus laughs, a rich sound that somehow lightens the lead in my stomach. Something tells me Angus doesn’t laugh too often. “Oh no, darlin’, we’re not the sharing type either.”

Tom joins in, his laughter warm and genuine. “We’re here on behalf of our brother, Henry. He’s the one in need of a bride.”

I blink, trying to process this twist. The words land like a punchline to a joke I don’t quite get, and an incredulous laugh escapes me. “Your brother?” I ask, relief and curiosity threading my voice. “So, I’m supposed to marry him?”

Angus nods. “Yep. Our mother made it a condition of her will that he has to marry to inherit the ranch, and so far, he’s not doing a great job of finding himself a bride. So, we decided to find one for him.”

“Right.” I manage a chuckle. “Because that’s how all romantic tales begin, with an inheritance clause and an auction.”

Tom grins and shakes his head. “You’ll fit right in with our sense of humor.”

“Guess I’ll have to,” I say, the ice around my trepidation beginning to thaw. If I’m lucky, this will work out for all of us.

Half an hour later, I’m out of the magnificent house on the mountainside and on my way to my car. The air outside is freezing compared to the house. I shiver, both from the cold and the uncertainty of my decision. I’ve changed into jeans and a black sweater with a wool coat over the top, but it’s still freezing. Angus stands beside me, hands buried in his pockets against the chill while we wait for Tom. We watch as the first snowflakes drift down from the heavy sky.

“Thanks for, uh, buying me,” I say, fumbling with the zipper of my coat.

“Trust me, it’s Henry who should be thanking us,” Angus replies, his breath forming clouds in the frosty air. “You’re probably saving him from a fate worse than death. Mom’s leaving the ranch to a clown school if he doesn't get married.”

“You’re not serious,” I say, laughter tinting my voice.

Angus shakes his head. “‘Fraid so. Mom always had a twisted sense of humor.” His voice hold a note of melancholy, revealing how much he misses her.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I murmur, knowing how inadequate those words are.

Angus shrugs and says matter-of-factly. “Death is a part of life.”

His tone suggests a loss that goes beyond that of his mother. I wonder if the weight he carries is heavier than he lets on. The shadow of grief in his eyes seems deeper, more personal.

But before I can ask, Tom interjects, his grin breaking the somber mood like a ray of sunlight. “Henry’s gonna owe us big time for this one,” he says, rubbing his hands together against the cold. “We’ve pulled off a miracle here.”

“A miracle?” I arch an eyebrow. “Seems more like a very strange favor.”

Tom chuckles. “Strange? Sure. But you haven’t met Henry yet. You’ll see what I mean.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, half-laughing, half-dreading the answer.

“Let’s just say he’s not exactly a people person,” Angus replies, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s trying not to laugh. “But don’t let him scare you off. Under all the gruffness, he’s got a good heart. I promise.”

Tom nods enthusiastically. “Yep. Somewhere under the scowl and grunting.”

“Comforting,” I deadpan, a small smile tugging at my lips.

Angus gestures toward my car. “Come on, we’ll lead you to the ranch. It’s not far.”

I glance at my old sedan, packed with my entire life, and back at the brothers. I hesitate—just for a heartbeat—and I wonder if I’m making a mistake. But then I think about what’s waiting for me back home, and the answer is clear. Anything is better than that.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, I start the engine, and the brothers climb into their truck, the taillights glowing like beacons in the night. As we drive, the landscape transforms into a snow-dusted wonderland, the trees heavy with frost, their branches arching over the road like a tunnel.

My grip on the steering wheel tightens as the reality of what I’ve done starts to sink in. I’m about to marry a man I’ve never met, step into a life I don’t understand, with people I barely know. Yet, beneath the nerves is a flicker of something else—hope.

As we drive, I wonder about this Henry fella. Will he be like my father? That thought sends a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the cold. No, I decide firmly. This is my chance to break free. I will not put up with an alcoholic ever again.

“Here goes nothing,” I whisper. Ahead lies a new life, one I choose for myself. And it starts with meeting Henry Sutton.

Snowflakes swirl around my car like a slow-motion dance as I put on my windshield wipers. It’s a real-life snow globe out here, minus the cheerful figurines and synthetic joy.

My phone rings, piercing through the silence with its insistent tone, and I glance at my dash panel to see it’s my mother calling.

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