Page 4 of His Texas Claim

TWO

Bryn

I wasn’t what most people would describe as sociable.

Yes, I was friendly. I could carry a conversation. The issue was what the conversation was about.

The topic was usually frogs.

Since I was a little girl in Ireland, I’d been odd. My parents knew it. My whole extended family knew it. I was the girl who felt compelled at all times to reach out and grab anything that moved: mice, rabbits, lizards. When I was seven, my mother had screamed to high heaven when I brought in a lizard and insisted that his name was George and that he was going to live with us now. After a great deal of fuss, she’d finally relented.

George—who I later learned was a girl—ended up having her babies in a terrarium in my room. George’s progeny still lived with my younger sister in Dublin.

Meanwhile, I’d gotten myself to Florida as quickly as possible for my undergraduate degree in Biology, because that was where I understood there to be the most dangerous and grabbable animals. A research job between undergrad and graduate school miraculously resulted in only one dangerous snake bite. After that, I’d decided that maybe frogs were more my speed.

Specifically, the cliff chirping frog.

The frog currently held in a container in my lap, now that my pack was in the back of Stetson’s truck.

“So your family—” I started, looking over at him. “You all live on this land?”

Stetson shook his head. “Too much family for that, but…me and two of my cousins, plus two other on and off. My cousin Forrest and his wife Willa used to live on the property, but they recently got their own place in town with their daughter.”

“And the other cousins?”

“Gage and Millie live in the main house with their three kids; Wyatt and Haven have been adding onto a house near the barn. My cousin Sawyer lives in town with his wife Daniela when they’re not workin’ on movies, and my little cousin Dakota when he’s not doin’ rodeo⁠—”

“You can’t be real,” I cut him off.

Stetson snorted. “What?”

“You’re an actual cowboy,” I said. “With…” I looked out the window, then, and my jaw dropped. “You actually raise longhorns here?”

“You didn’t notice when you were trespassing?”

“I was looking at frogs,” I said. “Not cattle.”

“Fair.”

“How many?”

“Hundred eighty head, give or take.”

I twisted around to look through the back window, past Buck in the back seat. Longhorns stood scattered across the pasture, horns catching the light.

“I”ve never seen one up close,” I said. “Only Bevo at the football games. They’re beautiful, but…scary.”

“They’re for show, mostly. Longhorns are tough. Handle the heat and the scrub better than most breeds.”

“You know all their names?”

“Not a one.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “None of them?”

“Cattle aren’t pets.” Stetson glanced down at my frog. “What’s the frog’s name?”

“I haven’t named it,” I replied. “Naming it implies I’m keeping it.”