Page 15 of Claimed By the Cowboy
Footsteps on the stairs announce our guests as my brothers disappear outside, laughter trailing behind them.
I drain my coffee and straighten my shoulders, preparing to face the woman I’m supposed to marry—and trying not to think about the one I actually want.
Delaney appears first, already dressed in practical jeans and boots, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. She looks ready to tackle ranch life.
“Good morning.” Delaney’s smile sits flat on her lips, not reaching her eyes. “Beautiful day.”
“Morning. Coffee’s fresh.”
“Perfect.”
She moves to the counter in measured steps, her back straight as a fence post, every movement calculated, as if she's checking items off a mental list.
Then Kitty appears behind her, and mybrain short-circuits.
Her honey-blonde hair spills loose over her shoulders, catching fire in the morning sunlight. The soft yellow sweater she’s wearing turns her eyes to molten gold, and those jeans... Christ, they hug every curve like they were made for her alone.
But it’s her smile that nearly brings me to my knees—shy and hopeful and so damn beautiful that itsteals the air from my lungs.
You can’t do this. Not to Delaney. Not to yourself.
But God help me, I want to see her smile again.
“Morning,” she says, voice soft as morning mist.
“Morning,” I manage, proud that I sound almost normal.
Dad clears his throat. “I’ll leave you folks to your day. Tom, remember what we discussed.”
He disappears before I can reply, leaving me alone with the woman I’m supposed to marry and the one I want to claim.
Perfect.
“So,” Delaney says, settling at the kitchen table with her coffee, “what’s the plan for today?”
I force myself to focus on her question instead of the way Kitty moves gracefully around the kitchen. “Thought I’d show you the main operation first. Cattle, goat barn, hay storage. Then maybe we could talk about timeline, expectations.”
“That sounds good.” Delaney’s tone is businesslike. Like we’re negotiating a contract instead of planning a marriage.
Which, I suppose, we are.
“What about you, Kitty?” I ask, trying to sound casual.?
Kitty looks up from fixing her coffee, her eyes lighting up when they meet mine. “The herb garden, if that’s okay. You mentioned it last night.”
“Mom’s garden has gotten a bit wild, but the perennials are still there. Mountain varieties you might not recognize from your indoor growing.”
I imagine her walking through Mom’s garden every morning, bringing life back to neglected plants, maybe hummingwhile she works.
“I’m sure that could be arranged,” Delaney says smoothly, but her tone is careful. “Once Tom and I sort out our situation.”
Right. The marriage that will make Kitty my sister-in-law. Safe from my increasingly possessive thoughts but close enough to drive me slowly insane.
“Let’s start with the cattle operation,” I say, needing distance from these dangerous thoughts. “Work our way around to the garden.”
The next few hours pass in a blur of forced normalcy. I show Delaney the breeding program, the pasture rotation system, the feed storage that keeps us operational through Montana winters. She asks smart questions and takes mental notes, proving she’s exactly the kind of practical partner a rancher needs.
But my attention keeps drifting to Kitty, who trails along quietly. She doesn’t fire off questions about profit margins or breeding schedules like her sister. Instead, she stops to ask about the wildflowers growing along fence lines and points at the hawks circling overhead like she’s never seen anything so beautiful.
