Page 21 of 11 Cowboys

“She did all right today,” McCartney throws in. “Kept the kids from mutiny and tangles.”

“Pretty hair,” Junie says, patting her already fraying braids.

“Still time for mutiny and tangles,” Dylan mutters, but there’s laughter behind it.

“Still bedtime to go,” Corbin adds, handing Caleb another slice of bread.

It’s loud, warm and overwhelming, but it feels like being pulled into a new orbit. Like I’m not just watching the story. I’m already sitting inside it.

***

When the bowls and plates are cleared, coffee is poured for the adults, hot chocolates are prepared for the kids, and Corbin returns to the table with a tray covered in a dish towel. He sets it in the center of the table with all the reverence of a pirate presenting treasure, or a magician revealing the flourishing culmination of his trick.

“Warm brownies,” he announces. “Courtesy of our newest recruit.”

The kids practically levitate in their seats. Hannah gasps like she’s discovered unicorns are real, and I contemplate what it means to be a recruit in this household.

“They have chocolate chips,” I say, a little self-consciously. “And salt on top. That’s a thing now.”

“She’s fancy,” Levi says, already reaching.

“She’s dangerous,” Jaxon murmurs from somewhere down the table, but he takes one too. “To our waistlines.”

There isn’t a man in the place with a waistline issue, but maybe that’s because there’s been a lack of brownies in this place.

They dig in with the enthusiasm of people who’ve never tasted sugar before. I blink, watching the expressions morph into pure joy, like the brownies are laced with more than basic ingredients.

“Oh, hell yeah,” Brody says, halfway through his.

His brothers turn to him, surprised. I guess his exclamation is out of character.

“We’re definitely letting down your tires,” Cody says.

“Excuse me?”

He grins. “So you can’t leave. You’re ours now.”

“You want to kidnap me over baked goods?”

“Sure,” Levi says, mouth full. “And for other reasons.”

Across the table, Conway’s watching me. His brownie remains beside him on a plate as he cradles his coffee cup like he can read the future in its depths. When our eyes meet, something shifts. A flicker of heat in his gaze, or maybe something thoughtful. I can’t tell. But it lands in my chest and stays there, taking root.

We eat. We laugh. Baby Rory is passed around like a hot potato, ending up in Levi’s lap and looking happier for it. Junie ends up in my lap, sticky fingers and all. Dylan nods at me like I’ve earned something I didn’t know I was working for, and even though my back hurts and I smell like sweat, butter, and onions, I feel… included.

As a guest, but also as part of this home.

By the time we finish and start clearing dishes, I overhear Corbin mutter to McCartney, “We should let her sleep in tomorrow to be nice.”

“Nope,” McCartney says. “Tomorrow, we will show her the true meaning of hard work.” Like he doesn’t believe I know it already.

And yet, somehow, I’m smiling because, as crazy as it seems, I don’t mind the idea at all.

Feeling at home is another matter.

Manure, I can deal with. Attachment, not so much.

8