Page 8 of Claimed by the Cowboy (Havenstone: Mail Order Brides #3)

Tom nods slowly. “He was lucky to make it out at all. Spent months in a military hospital. We didn’t know if he’d walk again, let alone come home.” His voice cracks a little on those last two words .

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

He shrugs, but it’s not casual—it’s a deflection, a way of hiding what still hurts. “He made it back. Married Luna. Now he’s building a life with her. But it changed all of us, you know? Having your brother nearly die… It puts a lot in perspective.”

I knew the three brothers followed in Ben’s footsteps by joining the Navy, but it seems that each of them had very different experiences. Henry returned home to find his first wife in bed with another man. Angus barely made it home in one piece. And Tom…

“I get it now,” I say softly.

He frowns. “Get what?”

“Why you joke so much.”

Tom turns to look at me, eyes shadowed but soft. “If I don’t, the memories get too heavy.”

I reach out and lay my hand on his. “You don’t always have to carry it alone.”

Tom glances at our joined hands, then gives me a lopsided smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He shifts, shaking off the moment like a dog shaking off water. The grin returns, brighter than before, but I’ve seen the shadows now, and I know they’re still there beneath the charm.

He bumps my knee with his. “What about you and Delaney? You two close?”

I draw in a breath, the question tugging me back through a tangle of memories. “We used to be. I mean, we still are, I guess. It’s just… different now.”

He waits, patient, quiet.

“When our parents died in a car wreck, everything changed. I was thirteen. Delaney was eighteen. One minute, we were just sisters, and the next, she was signing papers and trying to act like a parent. She gave up everything—college, friends, her future—to keep us together.” I swallow hard.

“She worked two jobs, juggled bills, dealt with landlords who gave her grief. She never let me see how hard it was, but I knew. Our last apartment was the worst,” I say quietly.

“Cheap place in a rough area. The landlord got… handsy. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. ”

Tom’s jaw tightens, and his hands curl into fists in the grass.

I shake my head. “That was the last straw. Delaney heard about Marlie’s Angels through a friend of a friend. Figured marrying someone decent was safer than staying.”

“And that’s how you ended up here.” His voice is low, unreadable.

I glance at him, heart squeezing. “She did it for me, Tom. Everything she’s ever done was to protect me. Even when it meant giving up her dreams.”

His gaze holds mine. “What do you want, though?”

I blink. “I… haven’t really thought about it.”

“You should.”

Something in his voice makes heat coil in my belly. What I want is right here—this man who sees me, really sees me.

What I want is to stop thinking and start feeling. To taste the danger in his kiss and let him catch me when I fall.

“Maybe you’re right,” I admit.

“You and Delaney, you’re solid together,” he says after a moment.

“Delaney is. Me?” I shrug. “Not so much.”

He shifts closer, those blue eyes burning into mine. “I see you, Kitty. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.” His voice goes rough. “Hell of a lot stronger than most.”

His words hit me square in the chest, slipping past my walls and nestling somewhere soft and breakable. The way he sees me—strong, unshakeable, worth noticing—is everything I’ve never dared believe about myself.

My throat burns as I swallow back tears. God, I want to believe him. Want to believe I’m more than a burden my sister has carried out of duty.

A fierce ache rises in my chest, sharp and sudden, as I realize how badly I want to kiss him again.

But he’s marrying my sister. The woman who sacrificed her dreams so I could survive. The guilt tastes bitter on my tongue.

I need to cool down—literally. Before I do something stupid like lean into him and forget every reason this is wrong.

I plunge my feet into the stream and immediately shriek as the icy water hits like a lightning bolt.

Tom’s laughter rumbles through the air. “Should’ve warned you it’s snowmelt.”

“It’s arctic!” I gasp, yanking my feet up and hugging my knees to my chest.

“That’s what we call character-building.” He tugs off his boots with easy confidence. “City girl like you probably thinks water should come heated and treated, right?”

“I’m tougher than I look,” I shoot back, then yelp as he kicks water in my direction.

“Could’ve fooled me. You jumped like you’d been electrocuted.”

“Because I just lost feeling in my toes!”

“Nah, you’re just soft.” His gaze holds a hint of sin. “Bet you can’t keep your feet in for more than thirty seconds.”

The challenge in his voice makes me straighten. “Is that a dare?”

“Maybe. You up for it?”

I stick my feet back in the water with determination, immediately regretting it as the cold bites into my skin. I wait for what feels like an eternity before asking, “How long has it been?”

“About five seconds.”

“That’s it?” I grit my teeth, stubbornly keeping my feet submerged. “This is nothing. I once walked six blocks in January with holes in my shoes.”

Tom frowns. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

“It’s fine. Builds character.” I force a smile, trying to deflect from the pity in his voice.

“Like hell it does.” His voice holds a hard edge I haven’t heard before. “Pretty girl like you should never have to walk anywhere with holes in her shoes.”

Heat creeps up my neck at the compliment, but I try to keep things light. “How long now?”

“Fifteen seconds. You’re right about being tough.”

I yelp when something brushes against my foot. “What was that?”

“Probably a trout. Harmless little?—”

I jerk my feet out of the water so fast I lose my balance, windmilling my arms as I slide off the boulder.

Tom lunges forward to catch me but overcompensates. Instead of steadying me, his momentum carries us both sideways.

We hit the creek with a tremendous splash.

The water is even colder than I expected—shocking, breath-stealing cold that makes me gasp and inhale creek water. I come up sputtering, hair plastered to my head, clothes soaked through.

Tom surfaces beside me, shaking water from his hair like a dog, his hat bobbing beside him in the stream.

For a moment, we stare at each other.

Then I laugh.Genuine laughter, the kind I’ve only let loose with him since I’ve been here. Soon, I’m laughing so hard I can barely breathe. Tom joins in, his deep chuckles mixing with my giggles.

I wipe water from my eyes. “What is it with us? Every time we’re alone, something ridiculous happens.”

Like delicious kisses.

Tom grins, wading toward me. “Paint showers, rogue goats, surprise swims… I’m starting to think we’re cursed.”

“Or really accident-prone.”

He shrugs, unbothered. “Could be fate’s way of keeping things interesting.”

I arch a brow. “You think nearly drowning in a creek is interesting ?”

“I think you make everything interesting.”

Tension pulses between us. His words steal the breath I just got back. My smile falters, heart thudding as the playfulness shifts into something deeper.

Water laps around us, cool and insistent, but I barely feel it. All I can feel is him—those eyes locked on mine like they see too much, like they know too much.

Tom clears his throat. “Twenty-three seconds.”

I give him a blank look. “Huh?”

“That’s how long you kept your feet in the water.” His mouth twitches in a sexy half-smirk. “Practically a record for city folk."

“Twenty-three seconds? That’s it?”

“Hey, I’m impressed. Most tourists don’t make it past ten before they’re running for hot coffee and dry socks.”

I splash him, sending water flying in his direction. “Tourists? I’ll show you tourist!”

What follows is an epic water fight that would make children proud. Tom has reach and military training, but I have desperation and the righteous fury of someone who’s been underestimated her whole life.

By the time we call a truce, we’re thoroughly soaked and breathless with laughter.

“Okay, okay!” Tom calls, hands raised in surrender. “You win!”

“Damn right I do.” I push wet hair out of my eyes, grinning triumphantly.

We clamber out of the water and sit on our backs on the grassy bank as we catch our breath, the summer sun hot on our chilled bodies and wet clothes.

“I love it here,” I murmur.

His head turns toward me. “Yeah?”

I nod, eyes on the sky. “It’s the space. The quiet. The way everything smells like pine and sun and possibility.”

Tom hums in agreement. “There’s nothing like it. Open land clears your head, gives you room to breathe.”

“It really does,” I whisper. “Feels like the first time I’ve had room in years.”

His eyes hold mine for a few pulsing seconds before they drop to my chest, where my nipples strain against my wet sweater. When they snap back to mine, those azure depths are swirling with something primal and needy.

He clears his throat. “You should, uh, get out of those wet clothes.”

I shouldn’t say it. I shouldn’t even think it. But he’s sitting so close, wet and glorious and grinning like the devil himself.

“Are you trying to get me naked, Tom Sutton?”