Page 58 of Claimed By the Cowboy
“I’m proud of you,” she murmurs. “My strong,dangerous husband.”
The words send satisfaction burning through my chest. “Not dangerous to you. Never to you.”
“I know.” Kitty's eyes shine with pride as she cups my cheek. “You’re my funny, loyal, impossible-to-stop husband. My everything.”
The words settle something deep in my chest. I’ll always stand between my loved ones and anyone who would hurt them.
“I love you, Mrs. Sutton.”
“I love you too.” She pulls back to study my face. “When can I go home?”
“Doctor says in a few more days, if your levels keep improving.”
“Good.” Her eyes take on a predatory gleam that makes my pulse kick up. “Because I plan to show my gorgeous husband exactly how grateful I am.”
“Kitty...”
“Mmm?” She traces her finger along my jaw. “Problem with that plan?”
“No, ma’am,” I say, grinning at her obvious intent. “No problem at all.”
I can’t wait to take my wife home to our ranch, our land, our life together. Today, I proved I’m worthy of protecting all of it.
And when we get home, I plan to claim the woman who made me into the man I was always meant to be.Or maybe she’ll claim me.
Either way, it’s the best victory of all.
Chapter 17
Kitty
A month after the poisoning, I’m stronger than I’ve ever been. Not just physically—though the mountain air combined with Tom’s insistence on feeding me three hearty meals a day has given me curves I never knew I could have—but inside too.
I’m stronger in ways that matter, confident, secure, and ready to claim my place as an equal partner in this marriage.
After I was poisoned, the whole family was tested for metals, and everyone came back clear. Turns out, it was only the well near the barn that was affected, not the main house supply. The county sent specialists to test every spigot and well on the property, and Tom made sure filterswere installed everywhere. A few of the vets who drank from the barn tap showed mild symptoms, but they’re recovering well.
Henry—overprotective to his core—had insisted Shay stick to bottled water since her pregnancy began. Thank God, because I don’t even want to imagine what might have happened otherwise.
And now? I’m happier than ever—if only my husband would stop treating me like I’m made of spun glass.
“Tom Sutton, put me down this instant!”
My protest comes out breathless with laughter as he sweeps me off the porch steps, grocery bags and all.
“Doctor said no heavy lifting,” he says, blue eyes dancing with mischief. “These bags must weigh fifteen pounds each.”
“They’re full of snacks like cheese! And crackers! How dangerous could crackers possibly be?”
“Very dangerous if my wife strains herself carrying them.” He kicks open the front door with practiced ease. “Besides, I like having you in my arms.”
I can’t argue with that logic, especially when he settles me on the kitchen counter and steps between my spread knees, his large hands braced on either side of my hips. This position puts us at eye level, and the hunger in his gaze makes my pulse skip.
“You know what I think?” I loop my arms around his neck, fingers playing with the hair at his nape.
“What’s that, darlin’?”
“I think you’re addicted to rescuing me.” I lean closer until my breath fans across his lips. “Even when I don’t need rescuing.”
