Page 12 of Owned By The Cowboy

“I didn’t stare at my phone.”

“You did,” Jake says. “It was painful to watch.”

My lips twitch, these assholes.

“Fine. Maybe I am really interested. More than I want to be. But that doesn’t mean I should do anything about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I could hurt her. Or her kids. And I’m not gonna do that.”

“You’re not gonna hurt anyone,” Tommy says. “You’re too decent for that.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. We all do.” He turns, looking around the room, and gets nods of agreement. “The question is, do you?”

I don’t answer because I honestly don’t know. I’ve spent so many years thinking of myself as the guy who came from nothing, the guy who got lucky, the guy who doesn’t deserve the good things that happened to him.

But maybe that’s not who I am anymore. Maybe it’s time to stop defining myself by my past and start thinking about my future.

“The game’s back on,” I say, nodding toward the TV.

Tommy looks like he wants to argue, but after a beat he unmutes the volume. The guys go back to yelling at the screen, but I can feel them glancing at me every few minutes.

They’re right, and I know it. I can’t keep pretending I don’t want Reggie. I can’t keep making excuses for why I shouldn’t pursue her.

But wanting something and being brave enough to go after it are two different things.

And right now, I’m not sure which one wins.

Five

Reggie

I’ve been staring at this sewing machine for twenty minutes, and it’s staring right back at me like we’re in some kind of standoff. The manual is spread across the kitchen table, written in what might as well be ancient Greek, and I’m starting to think this whole “seamstress studio” idea was a terrible mistake.

“Mama, what’s that noise?” Annalise asks, appearing in the doorway with her hair in pigtails that are already coming loose.

The sight of my baby girl brings a smile to my lips.

“That’s the sound of Mama losing her mind, baby.”

I give her a tickle and she giggles.

“Why?”

“Because this machine is possessed by demons.”

She laughs again and climbs on the chair next to me. “Can I help?”

My sweet baby girl.

“Do you know how to thread a sewing machine?”

“No.” She shakes her head, grinning.

I laugh again. “Then we’re in the same boat, sweetie.”