Page 5 of Claimed by the Cowboy (Havenstone: Mail Order Brides #3)

Tom

I wake up thinking about the wrong woman.

Not Delaney—though she’s everything the contract promised. Strong, capable, built for ranch life. The smart choice for a man with twenty-nine days to save his family’s legacy.

No, I wake up hard and aching, thinking about honey-blonde hair and eyes like warm whiskey. About a musical laugh that hit me like lightning. About the way Kitty looked at me across the dinner table, as if she were already mine.

Mine.

The word slams through me, primal and absolute.

Every possessive instinct bred into Sutton men for five generations roars to life, demanding I claim what’s clearly meant to be mine.

Except she’s not.

She can’t be.

Dangerous territory, Tom.

I roll out of bed before dawn, pull on yesterday's jeans and a clean flannel, and head downstairs for coffee. The house is quiet except for ranch morning sounds—cattle in the distance, wind through pine trees, the faint creak of old floorboards like the house is stretching awake.

Dad is already moving around in the kitchen.“Morning,” he says without looking up from the coffee pot. “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby.” The lie comes easily. No point admitting I spent half the night staring at the ceiling thinking about a woman who’s off-limits.

Dad slides a mug across the counter. “Delaney seems nice. Organized. Practical.”

“Yeah. She’ll do well here.” Delaney will make an excellent ranch wife. She’s hardworking and unafraid of challenges.

“And the sister?”

I take a long sip of coffee, buying time while my pulse kicks up. “What about her?”

“Don't play dumb, son. You couldn’t take your eyes off her last night.”

My jaw tightens. “Don’t know what you mean.”

Dad looks at me with that knowing expression he’s perfected over the years. He sees straight through whatever bullshit I’m trying to sell.

“Tom.” His voice carries weight. “I’ve watched you and your brothers your whole lives. Watched Henry fight his feelings for Shay, and Angus try to convince himself that Luna was just business. And now I’m watching you pretend you don’t want something you can’t have.”

My hands tighten around the mug. “The ranch?—”

“Will survive whatever choice you make. Your mother’s will had conditions, but it didn’t say you had to marry the wrong woman.”

The words hit like a physical blow. “Delaney’s not the wrong woman. She's exactly what I agreed to.”

“Maybe. But is she what you want?”

The question hangs between us. Because the truth is sitting in my chest like a brand. What I want is upstairs, sleeping in the guest room opposite mine, probably curled up small under one of Mom’s quilts.

“Doesn’t matter what I want,” I say finally. “What matters is keeping my promise. I made a commitment to Delaney. I can’t go back on that.”

Dad studies me for a long moment, then nods slowly. “Your mom used to say the heart sees clearer than the mind. Might be worth listening to yours before you end up with a future you can’t live with.”

His words are still sinking in when the back door swings open. Angus and Henry stomp into the kitchen, bringing a summer breeze and the smell of hay with them.

“Mornin’, lover boy,” Angus says, heading straight for the coffee pot. “What’s got you looking like you swallowed a fence post?”

Henry smirks as Angus hands him a mug. “Maybe his mouth is still frozen.”

Angus leans against the counter and takes a slow sip of his coffee. “Still can’t believe you introduced your future sister-in-law with a name that could headline at a Vegas gentlemen’s club.”

“I was waiting for a spotlight, a glitter curtain, and the bow-chicka-bow-wow music,” Henry adds.

Angus points his mug at me. “Don’t forget the dollar bills. Could’ve passed a hat around.”

Henry tilts his head as if he’s replaying the scene. “You know my favorite part? That shade of red you turned, Tom. I swear, you looked like a ripe tomato in cowboy boots. Thought you were gonna spontaneously combust right there in front of her.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Jackass.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Angus says. “Slippery tongue… Sutton family curse, but the rest of us save it for the bedroom. ”

I shoot him a look over my coffee. “Yeah? Well, the walls in this house aren’t as thick as you think. I’ve heard the Sutton family curse in action multiple times.”

Henry shrugs. “Can’t help it if Angus and I have wives who can’t keep their hands off us.”

“Now, now, boys. Let’s keep this PG,” Dad cuts in, stealing a biscuit from the counter. “Tom will have his own wife soon enough… and then we can all invest in noise-canceling headphones. Or soundproofing.”

Henry and Angus laugh again, and I seriously consider moving into the barn.

“Question is,” Henry says with a knowing smile, “which woman will Tom be making his wife?”

“Jesus, not you too,” I grumble. “I’m marrying Delaney. End of.”

Angus raises an eyebrow. “Right. That’s why you couldn’t take your eyes off Klitty all night.”

“Kitty. K-I-T-T-Y.” I spell her name clearly.

They snicker like the annoying bastards they are.

I drop my forehead onto the table with a groan. “You’re never letting this go, are you?”

Henry grins. “Oh, no, baby brother. This one’s going on a t-shirt.”

Angus’s face lights up. “In big block letters: TEAM KLITTY.”

I throw a piece of toast at him. He catches it midair and takes a bite.

Henry claps me on the back. “Relax. We’re just saying… for a guy who’s supposed to be marrying Delaney, you seem mighty interested in her sister.”

“Right. Let me just add ‘run off with my fiancée’s sister’ to today’s to-do list, right after ‘milk the cows’ and ‘deal with my idiot brothers,’” I say sarcastically.

Angus lifts his mug, unfazed. “Say what you want, but I’m pretty sure your subconscious already eloped with Klitty.”

“Haven’t you two got work to do?” Usually, I’d have a smartass comeback, but the truth in their remarks stings, and my trademark humor is nowhere to be found .

Angus sets his empty mug in the sink. “Lucky for you, we’ve got fences to check.”

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 my brain 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 humming while 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 .

She sees beauty where others see function. Magic where others see work.

She sees the ranch the way I do—like it’s something sacred.

Something primal and absolute settles deeper in my chest with every comment she makes, every question she asks, every time she stops to examine a plant or watch a bird.

Mine. She’s mine.

Not because of some damn contract or thirty-day deadline. Because she gets it. Gets this place. Gets me.

“That’s quite an operation,” Delaney says as we wrap up the cattle tour. “Very impressive.”

“Dad and I have put a lot of work into building the herd.” I lean against the fence post, automatically checking the horizon for anything out of place. “Fifteen years of careful breeding, expanding the grazing rotation.”

Delaney nods, all business. “And the timeline for adding a partner to the operation?”

The blunt question hits like a slap. I stiffen, the romantic haze from watching Kitty discover my world evaporating instantly. Delaney’s voice holds no warmth, no pretense that this is anything but a transaction.

Which should be a relief.Instead, it carves something hollow in my chest.

“Soon as you’re ready,” I say carefully. “The will deadline is?—”

“Three weeks. I know.” She crosses her arms. “Marlie explained the situation.”

Beside me, Kitty goes statue-still. Her face reveals nothing, but tension radiates from her small frame like heat from a branding iron.

“Kitty,” I say suddenly, needing to break the suffocating talk of marriage contracts, “want to see the new barn? Could use a woman's eye on paint colors.”

It's a transparent excuse, but she nods likeI’ve offered her the world. “I’d love to help.”

“I’ll leave you both to it.” Delaney’s gaze cuts between Kitty and me, sharp and assessing, before settling somewhere past my shoulder. “I should finish unpacking and get my things in order.”

Without waiting for a reply, she turns toward the house, her stride all business and barely contained frustration.

I should feel guilty watching her retreat with relief flooding my chest and Kitty’s warmth at my side.

But all I feel is right.