Owned By The Cowboy (Silver Creek Ranch #11)

Chapter 1

One

Reggie

We’ve arrived, but I sit in the driveway for another minute, engine running, air conditioning blasting against the heat.

My parents’ home looks exactly the same as it did during our last visit.

The same white farmhouse with the wraparound porch, the same oak tree I used to climb as a child, the same wooden swing hanging from its lowest branch.

But this time is different. This time, I’m not just here for a week or two. This time, I’m staying.

“Mom, are we getting out or what?” my son Jaylen asks from the backseat, his voice carrying that edge of irritation that’s become his default setting since his dad and I’s divorce papers were signed.

“Yeah, Mama, I’m hot,” my daughter Annalise chimes in, her six-year-old patience officially expired.

Only my second oldest, Nia, stays quiet, earbuds in, staring out the window with the same guarded expression she’s worn for months. My fourteen-year-old daughter, who used to tell me everything, now treats me like I’m a stranger who happened to give birth to her.

“Okay, okay,” I say, turning off the engine. “Let’s do this.”

The front door flies open before we’re even out of the car, and there’s Mama, practically bouncing down the porch steps in her yellow sundress. Behind her comes Daddy, moving slower but with the same warm smile that’s gotten me through every crisis of my life.

“My babies!” Mama throws her arms around me first, then immediately starts fussing over the kids. “Look at you, Jaylen. You’re even taller than you were last time. And Nia, sweetheart, you’re so beautiful. And my little Annalise!”

Annalise, thank God, lights up under the attention.

She’s always been the social butterfly of the family, the one who can charm anyone within five minutes of meeting them.

Right now, I need her to work her magic because Jaylen is standing there looking like he’d rather be anywhere else, and Nia has only removed one earbud.

“How was the drive?” Daddy asks, pulling me into one of his bear hugs. He still smells of Old Spice and the workshop behind the house.

“Long,” I reply, which is an understatement. Hours in a car with three kids who are processing their parents’ divorce in three completely different ways is its own special kind of hell.

“Well, you’re home now,” Mama states, and something in my chest unclenches a little. “Come on, let’s get you inside. I’ve got lunch ready.”

The house smells like cornbread and whatever magic Mama’s been working in the kitchen.

It’s the smell of my childhood, but also the smell of every holiday visit, and summer vacation when I’d bring the kids to stay for a while.

My children have their routine. Annalise heads straight for the toy box Mama keeps in the living room for her, Jaylen claims the couch, Nia finds a corner where she can pretend the rest of us don’t exist.

But this time, their suitcases aren’t going back to the city in a few days.

“Sit,” my mom orders, pointing to the kitchen table. “You look tired.”

“I am tired, Mama.” More tired than I’ve ever been in my life, but I don’t want to get into all that right now. I just want to sit in my mother’s kitchen and figure out how to start over.

“The cottage is all ready for you,” Daddy says, settling into his chair across from me. “Fresh sheets, groceries in the fridge, everything you need.”

Through the window, I can see the little house where he said we could stay for as long as we need. It’s been empty since Mrs. Henderson, their former tenant, moved to a nursing home, but it looks like someone’s been taking care of it. New shutters, fresh paint on the porch.

“Who’s been keeping it up?” I ask, though I have a feeling I know the answer.

“Blayne’s been working on it,” my dad replies. “New roof, updated the plumbing, made sure it was perfect for you and the kids.”

My stomach does something weird at the mention of his name. Blayne Madison. The man who’s managed to disappear whenever I’ve visited over the years. Oh, he’d be polite enough if we ran into each other. A nod, a brief hello, but he always seemed to have somewhere else to be whenever I was around.

“That’s nice of him,” I say, aiming for casual.

“He’s a good man,” Mama chimes in, bustling around the kitchen. “Took real good care of everything after your daddy started stepping back. The business is doing better than ever.”

“And he’s still single,” my father adds with a grin that makes me want to hide under the table.

“Daddy.”

“What? I’m just saying. You’ve been divorced for months. Might be time to start thinking about…”

“I’m not thinking about anything except getting my kids settled,” I interrupt. “And figuring out what I’m going to do with my life.”

“Course not,” Mama says, but she’s got that look in her eyes. The matchmaking one.

The back door opens, and I hear heavy footsteps on the porch. Work boots. A male voice. My stomach does something weird, and I tell myself it’s just nerves.

“Mel, you in there?” The voice is deeper than I remember, rougher around the edges.

“Kitchen,” Daddy calls back.

And then Blayne Madison walks into my parents’ kitchen, and I forget how to breathe.

I haven’t seen much of him over the years. He usually found reasons to be somewhere else when Richard and I were in town.

He’s even bigger, broader, more solid. He’s wearing his dark hair shorter than the last time I caught a glimpse of him, and there are more lines around his eyes.

Today he’s wearing his signature cowboy hat, a work shirt that’s seen better days, and his jeans are dusty from whatever job site he’s been working.

Total cowboy book boyfriend come to life.

And his eyes are the same pale blue I remember.

“Hi.” His deep voice sounds surprised, like he didn’t expect to see me here even though he must have known I was coming home permanently this time.

“Hi, Blayne.”

We stare at each other for a beat too long, and I feel heat crawling up my neck. This is different from those brief, polite hellos where he barely made eye contact.

“You remember our Reggie,” Mama says, like he needs the reminder.

“I remember,” he replies, and there’s that low, gravely voice again. Good God.

“Blayne finished up the work on the cottage this morning,” my dad adds. “Should be all set for you and the kids.”

“Thank you,” I manage. “That’s… you didn’t have to do all that.”

He shrugs his massive shoulders, and he’s still looking at me…

“Wanted to make sure it was right. It’s good to have you home,” he adds after another beat. “For good this time.”

“It’s good to be home,” I answer, and for the first time since I made the decision to leave San Francisco, I think I might actually mean it.

“Well,” Blayne starts again, “I should let you get settled. If you need anything with the cottage, just holler.” He touches the tip of his hat.

“We will,” Mama jumps in when I don’t respond fast enough.

He nods, tips his head to me one last time, and heads back to the door. I watch him go, unable to stop myself from appreciating how his broad shoulders fill out his shirt, how his battered jeans fit just right…

The door closes behind Blayne, and I realize I’ve been staring.

“Well,” Mama says, setting a glass of sweet tea in front of me. “That was interesting.”

“What was interesting?” I ask, but my voice comes out higher than normal.

“Blayne didn’t disappear the minute he saw you in the room,” Daddy responds for both of them with a smirk. “First time he’s stuck around when you’re here.”

I take a sip of tea and try to ignore the way my hands are a bit unsteady. Blayne Madison looks like he’s going to be a problem. A big, complicated, blue-eyed problem.

But right now, I’ve got bigger things to worry about. Like getting my kids set and figuring out what the hell I’m going to do with my life.