Claim Me, Cowboy

He was happy enough now to be alone. And when he didn’t want to be alone, he called a woman, had her come spend a few hours in his bed—or in the back of his truck, he wasn’t particular. Love was not on his agenda.

“This is a big house,” she said.

Danielle sounded vaguely judgmental, which seemed wrong, all things considered. Sure, he was the guy who had paid a woman to pose as his temporary fiancée. And sure, he was the man who lived in a house that had more square footage than he generally walked through in a day, but she was the one who had responded to an ad placed by a complete stranger looking for a temporary fiancée. So, all things considered, he didn’t feel like she had a lot of room to judge.

“Yes, it is.”

“Why? I mean, you live here alone, right?”

“Because size matters,” he said, ignoring the shifting, whimpering sound of the baby in her arms.

“Right,” she said, her tone dry. “I’ve lived in apartment buildings that were smaller than this.”

He stopped walking, then he turned to face her. “Am I supposed to feel something about that? Feel sorry for you? Feel bad about the fact that I live in a big house? Because trust me, I started humbly enough. I choose to live differently than my parents. Because I can. Because I earned it.”

“Oh, I see. In that case, I suppose I earned my dire straits.”

“I don’t know your life, Danielle. More important, I don’t want to know it.” He realized that was the first time he had used her first name. He didn’t much care.

“Great. Same goes. Except I’m going to be living in your house, so I’m going to definitely...infer some things about your life. And that might give rise to conversations like this one. And if you’re going to be assuming things about me, then you should be prepared for me to respond in kind.”

“I don’t have to do any such thing. As far as I’m concerned, I’m the employer, you’re the employee. That means if I want to talk to you about the emotional scars of my childhood, you had better lie back on my couch and listen. Conversely, if I do not want to hear about any of the scars of yours, I don’t have to. All I have to do is throw money at you until you stop talking.”

“Wow. It’s seriously the job offer I’ve been waiting for my entire life. Talking I’m pretty good at. And I don’t do a great job of shutting up. That means I would be getting money thrown at me for a long, long time.”

“Don’t test me, Ms. Kelly,” he said, reverting back to her last name, because he really didn’t want to know about her childhood or what brought her here. Didn’t want to wonder about her past. Didn’t want to wonder about her adulthood either. Who the father of her baby was. What kind of situation she was in. It wasn’t his business, and he didn’t care.

“Don’t test me, Ms. Kelly,” she said, in what he assumed was supposed to be a facsimile of his voice.

“Really?” he asked.

“What? You can’t honestly expect to operate at this level of extreme douchiness and not get called to the carpet on it.”

“I expect that I can do whatever I want, since I’m paying you to be here.”

“You don’t want me to dress up as a teddy bear and vacuum, do you?”

“What?”

She shifted her weight, moving the baby over to one hip and spreading the other arm wide. “Hey, man, some people are into that. They like stuffed animals. Or rather, they like people dressed as stuffed animals.”

“I don’t.”

“That’s a relief.”

“I like women,” he said. “Dressed as women. Or rather, undressed, generally.”

“I’m not judging. Your dad put an ad in the paper for some reason. Clearly he really wants you to be married.”

“Yes. Well, he doesn’t understand that not everybody needs to live the life that he does. He was happy with a family and a farmhouse. But none of the rest of us feel that way, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“So none of you are married?”

“One of us is. The only brother that actually wanted a farmhouse too.” He paused in front of the door at the end of the hall. He was glad he had decided to set this room aside for the woman who answered the ad. He hadn’t known she would come with a baby in tow, but the fact that she had meant he really, really wanted her out of earshot.

“Is this it?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, pushing the door open.

When she looked inside the bedroom, her jaw dropped, and Joshua couldn’t deny that he took a small amount of satisfaction in her reaction. She looked... Well, she looked amazed. Like somebody standing in front of a great work of art. Except it was just a bedroom. Rather a grand one, he had to admit, down to the details.

There was a large bed fashioned out of natural, twisted pieces of wood with polished support beams that ran from floor to ceiling and retained the natural shape they’d had in the woods but glowed from the stain that had been applied to them. The bed made the whole room look like a magical forest. A little bit fanciful for him. His own bedroom had been left more Spartan. But, clearly, Danielle was enchanted.

And he shouldn’t care.

“I’ve definitely lived in apartments that were smaller than this room,” she said, wrapping both arms around the baby and turning in a circle. “This is... Is that a loft? Like a reading loft?” She was gazing up at the mezzanine designed to look as though it was nestled in the tree branches.

“I don’t know.” He figured it was probably more of a sex loft. But then, if he slept in a room with a loft, obviously he would have sex in it. That was what creative surfaces were for, in his opinion.

“It reminds me of something we had when I was in first grade.” A crease appeared between her eyebrows. “I mean, not me as in at our house, but in my first-grade classroom at school. The teacher really loved books. And she liked for us all to read. So we were able to lie around the classroom anywhere we wanted with a book and—” She abruptly stopped talking, as though she realized exactly what she was doing. “Never mind. You think it’s boring. Anyway, I’m going to use it for a reading loft.”

“Dress like a teddy bear in it, for all I care,” he responded.

“That’s your thing, not mine.”

“Do you have any bags in the car that I can get for you?”

She looked genuinely stunned. “You don’t have to get anything for me.”

It struck him that she thought he was being nice. He didn’t consider the offer particularly nice. It was just what his father had drilled into him from the time he was a boy. If there was a woman and she had a heavy thing to transport, you were no kind of man if you didn’t offer to do the transporting.

“I don’t mind.”

“It’s just one bag,” she said.

That shocked him. She was a woman. A woman with a baby. He was pretty sure most mothers traveled with enough luggage to fill a caravan. “Just one bag.” He had to confirm that.

“Yes,” she returned. “Baggage is another thing entirely. But in terms of bags, yeah, we travel light.”

“Let me get it.” He turned and walked out of the room, frustrated when he heard her footsteps behind him. “I said I would get it.”

“You don’t need to,” she said, following him persistently down the stairs and out toward the front door.

“My car is locked,” she added, and he ignored her as he continued to walk across the driveway to the maroon monstrosity parked there.

He shot her a sideways glance, then looked down at the car door. It hung a little bit crooked, and he lifted up on it hard enough to push it straight, then he jerked it open. “Not well.”

“You’re the worst,” she said, scowling.

He reached into the back seat and saw one threadbare duffel bag, which had to be the bag she was talking about. The fabric strap was dingy, and he had a feeling it used to be powder blue. The zipper was broken and there were four safety pins holding the end of the bulging bag together. All in all, it looked completely impractical.

“Empty all the contents out of this tonight. In the morning, I’m going to use it to fuel a bonfire.”

“It’s the only bag I have.”

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

“It better be in addition to the fee that I’m getting,” she said, her expression stubborn. “I mean it. If I incur a loss because of you, you better cover it.”

“You have my word that if anything needs to be purchased in order for you to fit in with your surroundings, or in order for me to avoid contracting scabies, it will be bankrolled by me.”

“I don’t have scabies,” she said, looking fierce.

“I didn’t say you did. I implied that your gym bag might.”

“Well,” she said, her cheeks turning red, “it doesn’t. It’s clean. I’m clean.”

He heaved the bag over his shoulder and led the way back to the house, Danielle trailing behind him like an angry wood nymph. That was what she reminded him of, he decided. All pointed angles and spiky intensity. And a supernaturally wicked glare that he could feel boring into the center of his back. Right between his shoulder blades.

This was not a woman who intimidated easily, if at all.

He supposed that was signal enough that he should make an attempt to handle her with care. Not because she needed it, but because clearly nobody had ever made the attempt before. But he didn’t know how. And he was paying her an awful lot to put up with him as he was.

And she had brought a baby into his house.

“You’re going to need some supplies,” he said, frowning. Because he abruptly realized what it meant that she had brought a baby into his house. The bedroom he had installed her in was only meant for one. And there was no way—barring the unlikely reality that she was related to Mary Poppins in some way—that her ratty old bag contained the supplies required to keep both a baby and herself in the kind of comfort that normal human beings expected.

“What kind of supplies?”

He moved quickly through the house, and she scurried behind him, attempting to match his steps. They walked back into the bedroom and he flung the bag on the ground.

“A bed for the baby. Beyond that, I don’t know what they require.”

She shot him a deadly glare, then bent down and unzipped the bag, pulling out a bottle and a can of formula. She tossed both onto the bed, then reached back into the bag and grabbed a blanket. She spread it out on the floor, then set the baby in the center of it.

Then she straightened, spreading her arms wide and slapping her hands back down on her thighs. “Well, this is more than we’ve had for a long time. And yeah, I guess it would be nice to have nursery stuff. But I’ve never had it. Riley and I have been doing just fine on our own.” She looked down, picking at some dirt beneath her fingernail. “Or I guess we haven’t been fine. If we had, I wouldn’t have responded to your ad. But I don’t need more than what I have. Not now. Once you pay me? Well, I’m going to buy a house. I’m going to change things for us. But until then, it doesn’t matter.”

He frowned. “What about Riley’s father? Surely he should be paying you some kind of support.”

“Right. Like I have any idea who he is.” He must have made some kind of facial expression that seemed judgmental, because her face colored and her eyebrows lowered. “I mean, I don’t know how to get in touch with him. It’s not like he left contact details. And I sincerely doubt he left his real name.”

“I’ll call our office assistant, Poppy. She’ll probably know what you need.” Technically, Poppy was his brother Isaiah’s assistant, but she often handled whatever Joshua or Faith needed, as well. Poppy would arrange it so that various supplies were overnighted to the house.

“Seriously. Don’t do anything... You don’t need to do anything.”

“I’m supposed to convince my parents that I’m marrying you,” he said, his tone hard. “I don’t think they’re going to believe I’m allowing my fiancée to live out of one duffel bag. No. Everything will have to be outfitted so that it looks legitimate. Consider it a bonus to your salary.”

She tilted her chin upward, her eyes glittering. “Okay, I will.”

He had halfway expected her to argue, but he wasn’t sure why. She was here for her own material gain. Why would she reduce it? “Good.” He nodded once. “You probably won’t see much of me. I’ll be working a lot. We are going to have dinner with my parents in a couple of days. Until then, the house and the property are yours to explore. This is your house too. For the time being.”

He wasn’t being particularly generous. It was just that he didn’t want to answer questions, or deal with her being tentative about where she might and might not be allowed to go. He just wanted to install her and the baby in this room and forget about them until he needed them as convenient props.

“Really?” Her natural suspicion was shining through again.

“I’m a very busy man, Ms. Kelly,” he said. “I’m not going to be babysitting. Either the child or you.”

And with that, he turned and left her alone.

Three

Danielle had slept fitfully last night. And, of course, she hadn’t actually left her room once she had been put there. But early the next morning there had been a delivery. And the signature they had asked for was hers. And then the packages had started to come in, like a Christmas parade without the wrapping.

Teams of men carried the boxes up the stairs. They had assembled a crib, a chair, and then unpacked various baby accoutrements that Danielle hadn’t even known existed. How could she? She certainly hadn’t expected to end up caring for a baby.

When her mother had breezed back into her life alone and pregnant—after Danielle had experienced just two carefree years where she had her own space and wasn’t caring for anyone—Danielle had put all of her focus into caring for the other woman. Into arranging state health insurance so the prenatal care and hospital bill for the delivery wouldn’t deter her mother from actually taking care of herself and the baby.

And then, when her mother had abandoned Danielle and Riley...that was when Danielle had realized her brother was likely going to be her responsibility. She had involved Child Services not long after that.

There had been two choices. Either Riley could go into foster care or Danielle could take some appropriate parenting classes and become a temporary guardian.

So she had.

But she had been struggling to keep their heads above water, and it was too close to the way she had grown up. She wanted more than that for Riley. Wanted more than that for both of them. Now it wasn’t just her. It was him. And a part-time job as a cashier had never been all that lucrative. But with Riley to take care of, and her mother completely out of the picture, staying afloat on a cashier’s pay was impossible.

She had done her best trading babysitting time with a woman in her building who also had a baby and nobody else to depend on. But inevitably there were schedule clashes, and after missing a few too many shifts, Danielle had lost her job.

Which was when she had gotten her first warning from Child Services.

Well, she had a job now.

And, apparently, a full nursery.

Joshua was refreshingly nowhere to be seen, which made dealing with her new circumstances much easier. Without him looming over her, being in his house felt a lot like being in the world’s fanciest vacation rental. At least, the fanciest vacation rental she could imagine.

She had a baby monitor in her pocket, one that would allow her to hear when Riley woke up. A baby monitor that provided her with more freedom than she’d had since Riley had been born. But, she supposed, in her old apartment a monitor would have been a moot point considering there wasn’t anywhere she could go and not hear the baby cry.

But in this massive house, having Riley take his nap in the bedroom—in the new crib, his first crib—would have meant she couldn’t have also run down to the kitchen to grab snacks. But she had the baby monitor. A baby monitor that vibrated. Which meant she could also listen to music.

She had the same ancient MP3 player her mother had given her for her sixteenth birthday years ago, but Danielle had learned early to hold on to everything she had, because she didn’t know when something else would come along. And in the case of frills like her MP3 player, nothing else had ever come along.

Of course, that meant her music was as old as her technology. But really, music hadn’t been as good since she was sixteen anyway.

She shook her hips slightly, walking through the kitchen, singing about how what didn’t kill her would only make her stronger. Digging through cabinets, she came up with a package of Pop-Tarts. Pop-Tarts!

Her mother had never bought those. They were too expensive. And while Danielle had definitely indulged herself when she had moved out, that hadn’t lasted. Because they were too expensive.

Joshua had strawberry. And some kind of mixed berry with bright blue frosting. She decided she would eat one of each to ascertain which was best.

Then she decided to eat one more of each. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. She had a feeling the hunger wasn’t a new development. She had a feeling she had been hungry for days. Weeks even.

Suddenly, sitting on the plush couch in his living area, shoving toaster pastries into her mouth, she felt a whole lot like crying in relief. Because she and Riley were warm; they were safe. And there was hope. Finally, an end point in sight to the long, slow grind of poverty she had existed in for her entire life.

It seemed too good to be true, really. That she had managed to jump ahead in her life like this. That she was really managing to get herself out of that hole without prostituting herself.

Okay, so some people might argue this agreement with Joshua was prostituting herself, a little bit. But it wasn’t like she was going to have sex with him.

She nearly choked on her Pop-Tart at the thought. And she lingered a little too long on what it might be like to get close to a man like Joshua. To any man, really. The way her mother had behaved all of her life had put Danielle off men. Or, more specifically, she supposed it was the way men had behaved toward Danielle’s mother that had put her off.

As far as Danielle could tell, relationships were a whole lot of exposing yourself to pain, deciding you were going to depend on somebody and then having that person leave you high and dry.

No, thank you.

But she supposed she could see how somebody might lose their mind enough to take that risk. Especially when the person responsible for the mind loss had eyes that were blue like Joshua’s. She leaned back against the couch, her hand falling slack, the Pop-Tart dangling from her fingertips.

Yesterday there had been the faint shadow of golden stubble across that strong face and jaw, his eyes glittering with irritation. Which she supposed shouldn’t be a bonus, shouldn’t be appealing. Except his irritation made her want to rise to the unspoken challenge. To try to turn that spark into something else. Turn that irritation into something more...

“Are you eating my Pop-Tarts?”

The voice cut through the music and she jumped, flinging the toaster pastry into the air. She ripped her headphones out of her ears and turned around to see Joshua, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his eyebrows flat on his forehead, his expression unreadable.

“You said whatever was in your house was mine to use,” she squeaked. “And a warning would’ve been good. You just about made me jump out of my skin. Which was maybe your plan all along. If you wanted to make me into a skin suit.”

“That’s ridiculous. I would not fit into your skin.”

She swallowed hard, her throat dry. “Well, it’s a figure of speech, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” he asked.

“Yes. Everybody knows what that means. It means that I think you might be a serial killer.”

“You don’t really think I’m a serial killer, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“I am pretty desperate.” She lifted her hand and licked off a remnant of jam. “I mean, obviously.”

“There are no Pop-Tarts left,” he said, his tone filled with annoyance.

“You said I could have whatever I wanted. I wanted Pop-Tarts.”

“You ate all of them.”

“Why do you even have Pop-Tarts?” She stood up, crossing her arms, mimicking his stance. “You don’t look like a man who eats Pop-Tarts.”

“I like them. I like to eat them after I work outside.”

“You work outside?”

“Yes,” he said. “I have horses.”

Suddenly, all of her annoyance fell away. Like it had been melted by magic. Equine magic. “You have horses?” She tried to keep the awe out of her voice, but it was nearly impossible.

“Yes,” he said.

“Can I... Can I see them?”

“If you want to.”

She had checked the range on the baby monitor, so depending on how far away from the house the horses were, she could go while Riley was napping.

“Could we see the house from the barn? Or wherever you keep them?”

“Yeah,” he said, “it’s just right across the driveway.”

“Can I see them now?”

“I don’t know. You ate my Pop-Tarts. Actually, more egregious than eating my Pop-Tarts, you threw the last half of one on the ground.”

“Sorry about your Pop-Tarts. But I’m sure that a man who can have an entire nursery outfitted in less than twenty-four hours can certainly acquire Pop-Tarts at a moment’s notice.”

“Or I could just go to the store.”

She had a hard time picturing a man like Joshua Grayson walking through the grocery store. In fact, the image almost made her laugh. He was way too commanding to do something as mundane as pick up a head of lettuce and try to figure out how fresh it was. Far too...masculine to go around squeezing avocados.

“What?” he asked, his eyebrows drawing together.

“I just can’t imagine you going to the grocery store. That’s all.”

“Well, I do. Because I like food. Food like Pop-Tarts.”

“My mom would never buy those for me,” she said. “They were too expensive.”

He huffed out a laugh. “My mom would never buy them for me.”

“This is why being an adult is cool, even when it sucks.”

“Pop-Tarts whenever you want?”

She nodded. “Yep.”

“That seems like a low bar.”

She lifted a shoulder. “Maybe it is, but it’s a tasty one.”

He nodded. “Fair enough. Now, why don’t we go look at the horses.”

* * *

Joshua didn’t know what to expect by taking Danielle outside to see the horses. He had been irritated that she had eaten his preferred afternoon snack, and then, perversely, even more irritated that she had questioned the fact that it was his preferred afternoon snack. Irritated that he was put in the position of explaining to someone what he did with his time and what he put into his body.

He didn’t like explaining himself.

But then she saw the horses. And all his irritation faded as he took in the look on her face. She was filled with...wonder. Absolute wonder over this thing he took for granted.

The fact that he owned horses at all, that he had felt compelled to acquire some once he had moved into this place, was a source of consternation. He had hated doing farm chores when he was a kid. Hadn’t been able to get away from home and to the city fast enough. But in recent years, those feelings had started to change. And he’d found himself seeking out roots. Seeking out home.

For better or worse, this was home. Not just the misty Oregon coast, not just the town of Copper Ridge. But a ranch. Horses. A morning spent riding until the sun rose over the mountains, washing everything in a pale gold.

Yeah, that was home.

He could tell this ranch he loved was something beyond a temporary home for Danielle, who was looking at the horses and the barn like they were magical things.

She wasn’t wearing her beanie today. Her dark brown hair hung limply around her face. She was pale, her chin pointed, her nose slightly pointed, as well. She was elfin, and he wasn’t tempted to call her beautiful, but there was something captivating about her. Something fascinating. Watching her with the large animals was somehow just as entertaining as watching football and he couldn’t quite figure out why.