Shared by the Cowboys: Chapter 20

Over breakfast, Wade hands me the keys to the truck and nods toward Joelle.

“Take her into town. Let her pick out what she wants. And take the list.”

He sets a folded slip of paper beside her bowl as if this is something we do every day, as if sending her off with one of us is the most natural thing in the world.

Joelle blinks at it, cheeks going pink. “I don’t need anything,” she says softly. “And I have to make lunch.”

Wade arches a brow, his voice serious even though his mouth twitches with a half-smile. “You’re wearin’ my shirt.”

Her hands fly to the hem like she forgot she didn’t put on her own clothes this morning. And hell, she looks good in that shirt. Too good. My stomach drops at the memory of pulling a shirt like that over her head last night, her sultry smile, and the way she curled between us afterward.

“Not that I mind,” Wade adds, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms and settling in to watch her reaction. “You look hot as fuck wrapped in my shirt. But get some dresses. Some comfortable day things. I don’t know what women wear, or what they’ve got in the general store, but there’s gotta be clothes that are more form-fitting than my giant old t-shirt.”

Joelle looks at him like he’s speaking a foreign language. Like she can’t believe he wants her to have nice things that are hers alone. Then her gaze shifts to me, brown eyes unsure. And damn, it shoots straight through my chest. She’s asking a silent question. Is this okay?

My throat works around a swallow. “Yeah,” I say, clearing it lightly. “We’ll find you what you need.”

Wade stretches his legs out under the table, the picture of a man who knows exactly what he’s doing. “You two head out as soon as you finish eatin’. I’ll get started in the south pasture.”

There’s a generosity in the act that most wouldn’t catch. But I do. He’s giving me time with Joelle and considering what we both want—that selflessness is important.

I nod at him, a silent thank-you my twin brother will understand.

Joelle tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t even know what I’d get,” she murmurs. “I haven’t bought myself clothes in a long time.”

How long has she gone without? How many years has she spent putting herself last?

“If you want help, I’ll be right there.”

She gives me a shy, hesitant smile that lights up the kitchen like the sunrise, and I swear I’d drive her to the ends of the damn earth if she asked.

Wade stands and grabs his hat from the hook. “Whatever she wants,” he says. “Don’t let her talk you out of gettin’ it.”

He’s trying to sound casual, but the undertone is clear. He wants her cared for. He wants her settled. He wants her to feel like she belongs here, and understand what being ours means.

When the screen door shuts behind him and it’s just Joelle and me, the quiet stretches warm and charged. She fiddles with the list on the table, folding and unfolding the corner.

“Caleb,” she says softly, “you don’t have to do this. I know how busy you both are… leaving Wade…”

I stand, sliding the keys into my pocket, and hold out a hand to her.

“I know,” I murmur. “But it’s what we want. And I want to take you.”

Her breath catches, and she places her hand in mine. Even though shopping’s an everyday activity, I know it’s bigger for Joelle than most. It’ll change things. Show her the kind of life we want to build with her.

After tidying up, I grab her hand, and we walk out to the truck. The heat hasn’t settled yet, so the air is still cool with dawn, carrying the dusty sweetness of hay. I open the passenger door for her, and her cheeks pink in that way they always do when someone does something gentle for her, like kindness is still a language she needs to learn.

Wade usually barrels down the roads into town, but I take it slowly, wanting to stretch the morning out, and let Joelle breathe. I want to appreciate this small pocket of time that belongs only to us.

Joelle sits angled toward the window at first, watching the fields roll by, her hair in a messy bun, her hands folded in her lap. But after a few minutes, she glances sideways at me, like she’s trying to figure out what to say and how to be.

“You don’t have to make this a big deal,” she murmurs.

I rest my hand on the bench seat between us, close to her thigh. “It is a big deal to me,” I say quietly. “And it should be to you. You deserve good things.”

She lets out a shaky exhale, turning her gaze back to the windshield like the compliment is too heavy to hold. “No one’s ever said that to me before, Caleb. I don’t know what to do with care like this. Even my momma used to begrudge buying me what I needed.”

“Your momma never deserved you, Joelle.”

She wraps her fingers around mine. “I didn’t come to Grayswood expecting this. You have to know that.”

“We know, sweetie.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of gold-digger like my momma. I’m not afraid of working for what I need. All I wanted was a job, but…”

“It’s becoming more than you know how to handle?” I guess.

“I don’t need handouts, Caleb. I need security for my boy and a place I can earn my keep.”

“Not two men who want to treat you like a queen?”

She squeezes my hand. “I don’t know how to be a person who can accept that.”

I squeeze her hand back. “It’s okay if it takes some time. You gotta understand that we’re men who do what we want, and what we want is to take care of all your needs while you take care of ours. Understand?”

She makes a quiet huffing sound. “You’re different from how you used to be,” she says.

“I’ve grown since you left, Joelle. That’s all.”

“I’ve grown too.” Her voice seems tinged with sadness, and I wish I could look at her without risking killing us both.

“You have. Into a beautiful woman.”

She snorts. “There’s more of me now than when I left, that’s for sure.”

“And I’m grateful for every inch, darlin’”

When I sneak a look at her out of the corner of my eye, I find her smiling softly, and I know I’ve achieved my goal.

***

The general store sits at the edge of the tiny town we rely on to service our basic needs. It’s squat and old and full of a random selection of items. When we walk inside, Joelle hesitates just past the threshold, fingers gripping her elbows, eyes scanning the narrow aisles with dread.

“You good?” I ask softly.

She nods, but her voice betrays her. “I haven’t bought new clothes since before Caleb was born. What I’ve been wearing I got from the thrift store when I was pregnant. I don’t know my size. And dresses…” She trails off, swallowing hard. “Sometimes they don’t fit right.”

It hits me then. She isn’t just worried about how much the clothes will cost, but what she’ll look like in them.

“Joelle,” I say, stepping close enough that my voice stays between us, “I like the way you look in everything you wear. And I mean everything. Your curves are beautiful. You’re beautiful. There’s nothing in this store that could make you look anything less.”

Her gaze lifts, wide and startled, like she wasn’t ready for that much honesty.

I gesture toward the rack. “Pick whatever you feel good in. And if you’re not sure, I’ll tell you the truth. You have my word.”

She nods slowly, then reaches for a dress—soft cotton, dusty blue with a tie at the waist—and presses it to her body like she’s testing the idea of herself in it.

“You wanna try it on?” I ask.

Her lips part, uncertainty flickering. “You’ll wait?”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” I promise.

She steps into the makeshift dressing corner— a curtain hung on a rod—and I sit on the bench outside, listening to the soft rustle of fabric, the faint exhale of her breath.

Then the curtain pulls back.

And my heart damn near stops.

The dress hugs every curve of her body in the most perfect way, the soft fabric gliding over her wide hips. A cinched waist highlights her curves, and the neckline tat frames her collarbones and the tantalizing swell of her breasts without showing too much. She stands, shifting on her feet, biting her lip, eyes down, like she’s bracing for harsh words.

“Jo,” I whisper, finally finding my voice. “Come here.”

She steps forward, uncertain.

“You look…” I shake my head, not even embarrassed when the words catch. “You look stunning.”

Her breath shivers out, her cheeks flushing deep. “It’s not too tight?”

“It better be tight,” I murmur, letting my hand hover near her waist without touching. “That’s the point. I want to see your shape. You deserve to wear clothes that show how beautiful you are, not hide it.”

She meets my eyes then, and warmth and brightness moves through her like she’s letting herself believe me.

“It’s perfect,” I say simply. “You’re perfect.”

She blinks fast, like she might cry, then steps back behind the curtain to remove the dress. While she’s in the changing room, I gather up a few other items and take them to her. “Try these,” I say. “If you like them, we can get them.”

“It’s too much,” she whispers.

“Try them or Wade’ll give us both shit for not shopping enough.”

She shrugs, taking the plaid blouse, blue and white tank tops, and a pair of pale blue pants with a simple tie at the waist—the best garments available from the small selection. I wait close to the curtain, watching other customers browse the aisles. After a few minutes, Joelle whispers my name around the curtain.

“What is it, sugar?” I ask.

She glances side to side, finding no one near. “I’m leaking, Caleb. Can you—can you help?”

I look around, confirming no one is heading our way, and slip into the changing room beside her.

She’s wearing only her bra and panties, clutching herself. For a moment, I’m frozen at the sight of all her creamy skin and wild, out-of-control curves.

She trembles, pain and longing mixed in the flush across her cheeks.

Without hesitation, I undo her bra, cup her breast, and my mouth finds her nipple. She gasps. I hold her gently, cupping the underside, and relishing her warmth. If I’m quick, I can handle this and make her comfortable before anyone notices.

Her hand comes up, sliding over my cheek, and the taste of her, all warm and sweet, makes my heart thunder. I switch to the other side, knowing I’ve only taken the edge off rather than drained her completely. It’ll have to be enough.

When the other side softens, I close her bra back up, “You’re beautiful,” I whisper.

She gives me a soft, breathy thanks. I tap her ass. “Now, get dressed and let’s pay for these clothes.”

By the time she comes out with everything draped over her arm, her breathing has evened, her shoulders are looser, and she seems calm and relaxed.

While the cashier folds the dress, Joelle runs her fingers along the edge of the counter, then glances up at me with a look I haven’t seen from her yet.

“Caleb,” she says, voice small, “I never asked the other night how you feel about my son’s name.”

My body goes still.

She stares at the counter like she regrets asking. “I know it probably felt strange. I didn’t mean to make things weird. I just… I wanted him named after someone good. Someone who was kind when everything else in my life was so uncertain.”

My throat works around a tight swallow. “It means so much to me, Jo. More than I can say without soundin’ like a fool.” I step closer, handing over the cash. “You named your boy after me because you felt safe. Because I mattered to you when you were young and scared. And I’ve spent every day since that time wishin’ I’d done more. I didn’t trust your momma. I shouldn’t have let her leave with you without a fight.”

Her breath hitches, her eyes going glossy. “There was nothing you could do, Caleb. Not about that. You did enough while you could,” she says.

“I didn’t. I should have checked up on you when you left. I knew your momma was unreliable, and for that, I’ll always be sorry. Maybe if I had, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself into such a damn pickle.”

She slides her hand into mine, fingers curling tight. “I can’t ever regret having my son. But it means a lot that you thought of me over the years.”

“I’ll never stop thinkin’ about you, Joelle,” I admit.

Outside, the air is warm, the sun high in the sky. I carry the bag of clothes as we head back to the truck. I shut her door slowly, my palm lingering against the metal longer than necessary as I breathe through the sudden realization of how deeply I want this woman woven into every corner of my life.

By the time I slide behind the wheel, Joelle’s turned toward the window again, the breeze tousling her hair, her fingers tracing the hem of Wade’s shirt still tied at her waist.

I start the engine and pull out of the lot, the tires crunching over gravel as we roll back toward the long ribbon of road that leads home. For a while, Joelle watches the golden fields, the sky stretching vast and endless above us, but I can feel her tension.

A few miles down, I clear my throat. “Joelle?”

“Yeah?”

“I need you to know somethin’,” I say. “Somethin’ I haven’t said out loud yet.”

She shifts in her seat, her hands coming together in her lap. “Okay.”

I keep my eyes on the road because if I look at her, I’m in danger of stumbling over my words. “When you bring your boy home… things’ll change. Not in a bad way. I know what kids mean. Responsibility. Tired nights. Less freedom than most folks can handle.” I let out a slow breath. “But I’m not scared of that. Neither’s Wade.”

Her brows knit, soft and tight, like she’s bracing herself.

I keep going. “When I imagine you living with us, Jo… I don’t just think about the work you’d do, or the meals you’d cook, or the way the house already feels different because you’re in it. I imagine your boy running across the porch barefoot. I picture you holding him at the kitchen table while we eat. I think about you not having to do any of it alone ever again and us getting to show him what it means to have a father and be a man.”

The breath she releases is shaky and thin.

“Caleb…” she whispers, swiping at her cheek. “That sounds like a dream.”

I smile. “Don’t you know you’re a dream come true for us?”

She turns toward me fully then, her eyes bright and full of heartbreak and hope woven together so tightly you couldn’t separate them if you tried.

I rest my forearm on the back of her seat, letting my hand brush the fall of her hair. “And maybe,” I add gently, “one day your boy’ll have a little brother. Or sister. Or three”

Her breath stops in her chest.

The truck feels too small for how much that truth takes up between us.

She swallows hard. “Caleb… you can’t say things like that.”

“I ain’t sayin’ it to scare you.” I let my thumb graze the back of her shoulder. “I’m sayin’ it because when I look at you, I see a life. A future. And I want it. With you, my brother, your boy and whatever babies come next.”

Her hand slips into mine, feeling familiar and sweet. We fall back into silence as the ranch rises in the distance. She holds my hand all the way down the long road, her thumb brushing mine like she’s daring to make peace with a future she never thought she’d have.

And somewhere in the back of my mind a picture forms so clear it nearly stops my heart.

Joelle on our porch, belly round with our child, her son toddling in the yard, chasing a dog or a chicken. Wade’s leaning against the rail with that quiet, satisfied look he gets when something in his world finally makes sense. And me beside them all, as our land stretches out before us.

It’s not a storybook future, but it’s picture-perfect in my eyes.