Page 72 of 11 Cowboys

I smile at the ceiling, contented that this is turning out how I hoped. “I sing in the barn.”

“We can duet,” she laughs. “Who’s your favorite?”

“Garth Brooks or John Denver.”

“Country Roads. That’s a good one. I was thinking Taylor Swift.”

I poke her in the ribs, mortified. “No Swifty shit in this house.”

“Way to make me feel welcome, dude.”

Nash searches out her closest hand and brings it to his lips. “Ignore my brother. All your terrible music taste will be welcome if you stay.”

“He’s such a softie,” I say, fixing him with an amused grin.

“It’s the freckles.” He rubs the tip of his nose up Grace’s cheek, making her laugh.

“He’s not a softie when it counts.”

“No, he isn’t.” I press my lips to her temples and close my eyes, sinking into a deep, contented, relaxed state. I sigh, settling back on the pillow to stare up at the dark ceiling beams.

Brody might think this is going to fail before it starts, but I’m not a doubter. Pop always told me that thinking positive is the easiest way to get through life, so that’s what I’m going to do.

There’s no way I’m leaving this bed until morning.

24

DYLAN

I lie in bed, staring at the warped knot of wood in the ceiling above me. It’s familiar. Been staring at it for years. It usually grounds me, but tonight, it’s useless.

The faint sounds of Beau’s claws on the wooden floor downstairs and the wind rattling the side of the house have kept me awake. And earlier it was voices; hers, Nash’s and Cody’s. I didn’t have to hear much to know what was happening.

Four of us now.

I close my eyes, trying to block out the wave of anxiety I hate myself for feeling. It shouldn’t mean anything. We’ve been here before. We’ve had women laugh, love, touch, and promise to stay, then run at the first real challenge or the realization that we’retoo much.

They always leave, and she will, too.

But the idea of Grace going is a rock I can’t push off my chest. This article is supposed to bring us lots of candidates to choose from, but the idea of rooting through pages of more women, only to be disappointed, fills me with dread.Wanting Grace is an idiot move, and it’s one I can’t forgive myself for. I’ve already made plenty of mistakes when it comes to women. Shouldn’t I have learned my lesson by now?

We might be too much—this ranch, eleven cowboys, six kids, and a dog—but Grace is, too. She’s too clever, too bubbly, too independent, too classy, too sassy, too high-powered… just too much, and yet, right in so many ways.

I shift onto my side, careful I don’t wake Eli, who’s snuggled under the blanket on the pull-out bed across the room. She has nightmares sometimes and crawls in to find me.

I tighten my jaw. That’s what keeps me here. The kids. The land. The brothers and cousins I’d bleed for.

Not the dream the rest have of love despite all odds. Nora took any hope I had of love with her.

I reach over to the nightstand and trail my fingers across the boot box still tucked under the lamp.

I ordered them after that night in the barn, and when Grace laughed with Junie in the yard, twirling her like she was the only girl in the whole damn world. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. I told myself I wouldn’t get involved, but even the most barren heart can experience a spark of hope, it seems.

Lennon collected them from the store, and still, I haven’t had the courage to give them to Grace. At the time, I thought she’d think they meant more than they did. Now I’m worried they mean more than I wanted them to mean only days ago.

I blow out a sharp breath, roll back onto my back, and glare at the ceiling again.

Tomorrow, I tell myself. Tomorrow, I’ll take the kids out, get my head on straight. Get back to what I know: my family, the cattle, fences and dirt, and the hard graft that keeps my churning thoughts quiet.