Broken In: A Cowboy Reverse Harem Romance

by Cassie Cole

  “Yes ma’am,” he said, and I was so relieved that he believed me that I didn’t even remind him not to call me ma’am.

  We circled the house while they took turns pointing out things that needed fixing. Broken exterior siding meant rotten wood along the right corner. Maybe repairable with wood putty, but probably best to rip and replace it. Shutter hinges broken on six windows. Two additional windows where the shutters had fallen off entirely. Chipped windows, cracked foundation, two support beams around the outer porch that were wobbling.

  Paint. Everywhere, paint touch-ups were needed. Layers upon layers of new paint.

  The interior was even worse. Aside from the damaged wooden floors and the water damage that I’d spotted, Landon suspected there was even more water damage in the attic. “We won’t know until Daniel gets up there and looks, but we suspect it’s not good,” Landon told me. “The gaps in shingles are wide enough for a lot of moisture to seep in. Especially if they’ve been missing longer than a week.”

  I nodded along with all their comments. All I could think about was which items were absolutely necessary to repair before showing the house to potential buyers, and which ones could be ignored. They didn’t need to know that, though.

  “You know, you seem more like repairmen than cowboys.”

  Landon snorted. “Ranching means knowing how to do a little of everything.”

  “And a lot of some things!” Chase added. “Remember that ranch out by Amarillo? With the pipes?”

  “Oh lord, don’t remind me.” He shook off whatever memory that was. “It pays to be diverse. If all we can do is tend a herd, then a rancher has to hire someone else to fix a plumbing leak, or repair a broken window, or any other number of problems. But if we can do most of those for them? We save the rancher a lot of money.”

  “It’s marketable,” Chase said. “The three Hughes brothers. Ranch hands and repairmen extraordinaire.”

  “And to think I got all of this extra skill without even knowing it,” I said. “Where is Daniel, anyway?”

  “There he comes now.”

  I looked out the back window. Another strapping cowboy in a brown hat was leading three saddled horses out of the barn. When we went out to meet him and I got a closer look I could see the resemblance: he was a lot like Landon, but with straight black hair instead of curly and softer eyes rather than sharp. He walked with the smallest hint of a limp, favoring his left leg over the right.

  And based on the way he glanced down at the ground after I shook his hand, he was more shy, too.

  “Pleased to meet ya,” he said. His bashful demeanor was at odds with his physical appearance, which was like a lean football wide receiver. “You are pretty. I mean, pretty young. Landon said you were pretty young.”

  Oh my goodness, he blushed, too! His accent had a little more twang in it than his brothers. I smiled and said, “I can see how you and Landon are brothers, but Chase here…”

  “They used to tell me I was adopted!” Chase blurted out. “All that tormenting is probably why I joined the army.”

  “You mean you’re not adopted?”

  The others roared with laughter while Chase gave me a playful—or not so playful—glare.

  “I like her,” Daniel said. “She’s funny.”

  “City folk always are,” Landon said.

  “So you were in the army?” I asked. “See any action?”

  Landon snickered, and Daniel turned away to hide his expression. Chase rolled his eyes at them. “For about two weeks. Flunked out of boot camp.”

  “I think the exact story I heard was that you told the drill sergeant to stick his dick in a toaster,” Landon pointed out.

  “You didn’t!” I said.

  Chase shrugged his bulky shoulders. “I meant it. He should’ve stuck his dick in a toaster. It would have improved his personality.”

  I laughed, then looked at the three horses Daniel had brought out. Daniel must have noticed my confusion, because he cleared his throat and said, “I saddled a third in case you wanted to join them while they scout the fences. I would go, but, uhh, I don’t feel like riding right now.”

  His brothers looked uncomfortable, but I’d been in my share of awkward situations and took pity on him. “That’s good, because I hear you have the attic to check for water damage.”

  “That’s right, I do.”

  I took the reins. “Thanks for saddling the horse.” I took a deep breath and looked at the animal. Was it my imagination or was it taller than a normal horse? The stirrups looked awfully high.

  “Problem?” Landon asked.

  “Just trying to remember this horse’s name,” I said, squinting as if I were looking for identifying marks. “Buttercup, maybe? I think she’s new since I was last here.”

  “He probably isn’t named Buttercup,” Chase said.

  Now it was my turn to blush.

  “Let me help you.”

  Before I could protest, Chase bent down, wrapped his arms around my thighs, and lifted me like I was trying to change a light bulb. I let out a squeak that was far more girly than I intended as he deposited me onto the horse.

  “I didn’t need your help, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”

  Chase grinned at his brothers. “You’re right. She is funny.”

  8

  Daniel

  Cindy knew.

  She was polite about it. She didn’t jump right into acknowledging it out loud, and she actively tried avoiding the subject. But it was obvious she knew I couldn’t ride a horse.

  The shame was like a cloud. It was bad enough when it was an old rancher judging me for it. It was a thousand times worse when it was a beautiful woman in tight jeans. Why wouldn’t just one person be ignorant of my… problem?

  I groaned as I watched Chase lift her up into the saddle. For some reason, he’d inherited all the gregarious genes in our family. He had no problem joking with girls, complimenting them, or even picking them up without asking. And somehow, it worked. Cindy giggled as he placed her in the saddle, a delightful, carefree sound.

  I wished I could make her giggle.

  Cindy glanced down at me. “It was nice meeting you, Daniel!” she said as they began trotting off. I waved and tried to think of something clever, but by then they were out of sight. I was almost glad for them to be leaving so I didn’t have to feel this way anymore.

  I turned back toward the house.

  I’d been trying every morning on our old ranch. Early, before the others were awake so I’d have some fashion of privacy. Lucy was the tamest horse Mr. Anderson owned, and she remained calm and steady while I tried to climb into the saddle. But the issue wasn’t with the horse: it was with me. The panic attacks hit the moment my boot touched stirrup, sending my heart racing and sweat dribbling down my temple.

  All I could think about was that day, galloping after the herd…

  Cindy’s dog came running up to me, sniffing my hand and then licking it. I would keep trying because shame was more intense than fear. But first I needed to check the attic for water damage.

  I stopped to gaze up at the house. It was a mess, but it had a ton of potential. I hoped Landon was right about this place.

  And I hoped Cindy didn’t figure out why we were really here.

  “Let’s find you a bone to chew on,” I said as I continued inside.

  9

  Cindy

  Riding a horse wasn’t like riding a bike: it didn’t just come back to you the moment you sat down. For one thing, you were far higher off the ground. That made everything just a little bit more disorienting.

  Also? Bikes obeyed your commands.

  I struggled while following Landon out onto the ranch property. The horse kept jerking his head to the side, fighting my reins and doing whatever he pleased. With each step I was growing more frustrated—something I didn’t want the others to see.

  “Psst,” Chase said to my left. He gestured with his boot, digging his heels into the horse’s flank.

/>   Oh, duh. Guide with the feet, not the hands. That’s something my dad used to say. The moment I started using my heels the horse began obeying what I did with the reins, gently turning back to fall in line with the others. Chase gave me a wink.

  I don’t know why I felt so anxious around them. I was the girl who didn’t give a shit what people thought of me so long as they didn’t get in my way. Hell, I usually savored not caring what others thought. It gave me power.

  But here, I felt intensely aware that I was an outsider. Sure, I’d grown up on this ranch, but now I was a city girl. I didn’t know how many heads of cattle we owned. If not for Chase showing off his masculine strength in a childish way, I probably wouldn’t have been able to climb into the saddle on my first try.

  I didn’t like being out of my element. I preferred to show off the things in which I excelled, like predicting a market bubble right before it burst, or setting the right stop-loss sells of a commodity.

  The Jameson Ranch was mostly pasture, 20,000 acres of endlessly flat land in varying shades of brown. We were on the Edwards Plateau, where the tallest hills were scarcely more than 10 foot high goosebumps, but if you drove an hour south the jagged Guadalupe Mountains would start to scrape the sky. The soil was too thin for any crop, but cattle loved the short, brittle grass that rarely grew above the ankle. The horses crunched through the dirt and rock, a familiar and long-ago sound.

  Riding out here brought back a whole slew of memories from my childhood. My father teaching me how to ride, and taking me along when he walked the perimeter. We had some good moments when my interests intersected with his love of the ranch.

  It was enough to make me smile, but not enough to make me emotional.

  “You’re a good rider,” Landon said, falling back to ride alongside me. “For a city girl.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was praising me or being sarcastic, so all I said was, “Nothing to it.”

  “It’s a good piece of land,” Chase said. “There’s enough scrub oak to stop erosion, but not too much to be a hindrance.”

  “There,” Landon said as we crested one of the tiny hills. The land sloped gently away from us toward the river that split our land. River was a generous word: it was more of a stream, barely 10 feet across at its widest point. But all along the water were hundreds of black and brown dots, vibrant against the pale landscape.

  “Red Angus,” Landon said, dark eyes moving quickly across the land. “Looks to be… 800 heads. Maybe closer to 900.”

  “900,” Chase agreed.

  I twisted in my saddle. “You can tell the breed from this far away?”

  “Sure.”

  “Now I know you’re pulling my leg.”

  He grinned at me, which made his hard jaw even more stunning. “Aberdeen Angus cows are a red breed. Not true red, but brown with the slightest tinge of red. They were brought over from Scotland and cross-bred with the native species, which are black. The resulting offspring are mostly black, since that’s the dominant trait, but the recessive gene still produces one red cow out of every four.” He pointed. “Looks to me about a quarter of them are red. Hence, Red Angus.”

  I scanned the distant herd. He was right. “Alright, I’ve gotta say I’m impressed.”

  Chase sputtered as he tried to hold in a laugh. “That, and nearly every ranch from here to El Paso raises Red Angus!”

  Landon confirmed it with a sly smile.

  “You had me fooled,” I said. “So. Now what? Do we need to, uhh, herd them anywhere?”

  “Nope. They’re doing what they’re supposed to do. If they haven’t been checked in a while we should probably ride down there and make sure none are sickly.”

  “How receptive are they to herding?” Chase suddenly asked.

  “How do you mean?”

  He shared a look with his brother, who gave a nod of permission.

  “Hyah!” Chase yelled, digging his heels into his horse and shooting off down to the river, a cloud of dust kicking up behind him. Within seconds he was halfway to the herd, which hadn’t budged.

  “Why…”

  “Just watch,” Landon said.

  Chase galloped directly at the herd, then abruptly changed directions to brush along the edge. This coaxed some of the cows into trotting along, but the majority of the mass remained unfazed.

  “Some herds are stubborn,” Landon explained. “It’s good to find out ahead of time, so when we do need to rustle them up we know what it’ll take to get them moving.”

  “And mine?”

  He sighed. “More stubborn than most, looks like. It might be nothing. If they only just came to water, and thus still thirsty, they might be less inclined to move. And if not? Then we’ve got our work cut out for us if we need to herd them.”

  “I’ll speak to the cows privately,” I said in a manager’s voice. “Let them know their behavior is unacceptable.”

  Landon chuckled, a low rumble deep in his throat. Then he leaned toward me and took my hand, squeezing it gently. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” I asked. His unexpected touch made my hand tingle.

  “For giving us this opportunity. For trusting us.” He paused. “For understanding about Daniel.”

  “Of course,” I said softly.

  “I know this is a tough time for you,” he went on. I didn’t correct him. “So if you need anything from me, anything at all, you only need to ask.”

  Before I could ask what he meant, Chase came trotting back toward us, his butt and thighs bouncing in the saddle. “Hope that fancy riding didn’t make you swoon.”

  I scrunched up my face in confusion, then put my palm over my eyes to scan the horizon. “Oh, fancy riding? Where?”

  Landon’s laughter rolled across the land.

  With the herd checked on, we cut back toward the boundary of my property, which was unceremoniously marked with a barbed wire fence held up with wooden stakes every 20 feet. I’d never given it much thought when I was a little girl, but it seemed woefully inadequate to my adult eyes. If it weren’t my land, I would have made a joke.

  We rode along until we came to one post that was snapped in half, letting the wire droop low. Landon dismounted and approached, hefting the wooden post while taking care not to touch any barbs.

  He returned to his saddle, pulled a notepad out of his pocket, and scribbled something before moving on.

  I watched in silence as he repeated the process for the next three damaged sections of fence: dismount, examine, write a note. Finally I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

  “You know, we have computers these days,” I said. “I could probably write a GPS app to mark broken points.”

  “Why, when paper works just fine?”

  Under my breath I muttered, “Why buy a car when horse drawn carriages work just fine?” Chase snorted, but Landon gave no hint that he had heard.

  “So,” I asked. “How did these get damaged?”

  Landon answered without looking up from his notepad. “Looks like standard wear and tear. Sometimes cows rub up against the posts without realizing it, and it’s like a pickup truck nudging a toddler. We’ll come back and repair these later when we have the right tools.”

  We rode another 20 feet and then he stopped again. “Now that? That’s not normal wear and tear.”

  Chase and I dismounted with him as we approached a section of the fence that was completely open. One of the posts was missing entirely, and the coils of barbed wire were snapped and peeled back from the gap. Landon followed one strand until he reached the end. He held it up.

  “Snipped with wire cutters?” Chase asked.

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  I laughed nervously. “How could a cow cut the wire? With its teeth?”

  Landon dropped the strand and picked up another. “Nope.”

  Chase’s expression darkened as he scanned the distance. “Whose land is that?”

  I glanced at the sky to orient myself with the sun. “That’s north, which means it’s par
t of Harald Honeycomb’s ranch. Why? You think we should notify them?”

  Landon and his brother shared another look. “Let’s move on,” he said.

  It took me three tries to get my foot in the stirrup, but both of them were too lost in thought to notice.

  10

  Cindy

  Riding the property border took the better part of the day. When we were done I was pleasantly surprised to find my thighs weren’t saddle sore. Our easy pace, with lots of pauses to check fence damage, probably kept me from being rubbed too raw.

  Daniel had four steaks thawing on the counter when we came inside, and was busy cleaning the gas stove. Chase went out to their truck and returned with a sack of potatoes and two huge heads of broccoli. I watched with amazement while they set to making supper: Chase peeled potatoes while Landon chopped broccoli, and then Daniel grilled the steaks on a pan over the stove.

  “I ate a frozen pizza last night,” I said when we sat down at the dining room table. I popped another piece of rare steak into my mouth. “This is a lot better.”

  Daniel beamed at the compliment. “Tomorrow I’ll make ya my chicken.”

  “His chicken is really good,” Chase said with his mouth so full his cheeks looked like a chipmunk.

  “Chew before you swallow, big guy,” Landon teased. “Wouldn’t want you to get a tummy ache.” Chase glared across the table.

  “We’ll be back tomorrow bright and early,” Landon went on. “Bright and early means 6:00am. So no screaming this time.”

  I gave a start. “Back? I assumed you’d be staying here. Most ranch hands live on site, right?”

  The brothers all looked at one another. “We figured we’d give ya some space,” Daniel said, running his fingers through his silky black hair. “On account of your loss, and all.”

  “We don’t want to intrude,” Landon said. “We have a camper down the road to Greenville. We’re happy to stay there.”