His to Claim (The Rowdy Johnson Brothers Book 4), page 1
HIS TO CLAIM
THE ROWDY JOHNSON BROTHERS
BOOK 4
TORY BAKER
CONTENTS
Playlist
Blurb
Prologue
1. JW
2. Maeve
3. JW
4. Maeve
5. JW
6. Maeve
7. JW
8. Maeve
9. JW
10. Maeve
11. JW
12. Maeve
13. JW
14. Maeve
15. JW
16. Maeve
17. JW
18. Maeve
19. JW
20. Maeve
21. Fletch
22. JW
23. Maeve
24. JW
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Tory Baker
Acknowledgments
Copyright © 2024 by Tory Baker
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. No part of this book may be used to create, feed, or refine artificial intelligence models for any purpose without written permission from the author.
Please respect the author and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials that would violate the author’s rights.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Design: LJ with Mayhem Cover Creations
Editor: Julia Goda with Diamond in the Rough Editing
Created with Vellum
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BLURB
JW Johnson thought he was doing the right thing, keeping to himself and away from the pretty little baker in town.
She’s younger, a hell of a lot more innocent for the likes of him. He should leave her alone and keep his distance like he has been all along. She’s too good and too pure. Try telling that to the hunger he’s got buried deep inside of him.
Everything changes when someone starts messing with Maeve and her livelihood, Whisked Away. He’s stepping in, taking care of Maeve, and claiming what’s his. Forever.
This over-the-top, protective cowboy is ready to have his woman any way he can. Especially on her knees, calling him daddy and loving her with everything he’s got.
PROLOGUE
MAEVE
One Month Earlier
“What did I get myself into now?” I mumble the words under my breath as the hostess leads me to the table. I’m on a date. I can’t believe I pulled the trigger. An online dating app lured me in late one night after I heard what JW told his brothers. Yeah, let’s just say it set tonight in motion. I never thought dropping off cinnamon rolls to the big lug along with a few other sweet treats for the Johnson ladies would result in me leaving the ranch as fast as my feet could take me.
“Here’s your table. Can I get you a drink while you wait?” I pull my chair out and take my seat. The palms of my hands are slick with sweat, so I rub them down the fabric of my high-waisted wide-leg turquoise pants. I paired the outfit with woven straw wedges and a floral thin-strapped blouse. The best part of these pants is you can dress them up or down. A band tee with a pair of Chucks, and you’re good to go.
“Yes, an Aperol Spritz. Please and thank you.” The steakhouse here in Arrowleaf is excellent. They have great food and great drinks. They also have amazing desserts, if I do say so myself. Whisked Away supplies them with desserts on a daily basis. Yesterday, it was chocolate cake, chocolate on chocolate and stored in the fridge because there is nothing better than a cold piece of cake on a hot summer day. Today’s special is cheesecake in three flavors—cherry, chocolate marble, and of course plain.
“You’re welcome. Would you like a water as well?” I nod in response, my thoughts a million miles away from where they should be, replaying the reason I’m here in the first place. His words settled in my stomach like a lead weight, making me feel like all his random orders, slight touches, or looks that had me flushing from my cheeks to my chest were nothing but lies. One sentence took it all away. “She’s pretty, makes great cinnamon rolls, but she’s too innocent for me.” All my hopes and dreams of being JW Johnson’s went out like a light. I left the cinnamon rolls and other pastries on the counter and quietly left the ranch. That was two weeks ago. It was also when I took the plunge to create an online dating profile.
You see, Tully, Birdie, and Juni may know how I feel about him, but they don’t know how JW feels about me. I didn’t say a word about what I’d heard. Girl code is one thing, but family is another entirely. Believe me, I understand the concept all too well.
I’m close to my parents and siblings. We eat Sunday dinners together and have a massive group text where we all check in daily. My two older sisters worry more about me than our mom and dad do. They’re currently tracking my location and made sure I knew to text them right away if the vibe was off. I’m what you’d call an ‘oops’ baby. Madison is thirteen years older than me, and Michelle fifteen years. They know what’s going on. Our parents do not. My sisters may be protective, but Dad can be next level, and Mom has no problem showing her claws when necessary.
“Hello there, you must be Maeve. I’m Clayton,” my date says, drawing me out of my stupor. I stand up to greet him, pushing my chair back, and only by sheer luck does it not slide into another table. While I once thought it was a cool deal to have chairs on rollers, I’m now second-guessing the idea entirely with my almost mishap.
“Hi, I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Blond hair, brown eyes, a clean-shaven face, and a smile. Clayton is the exact opposite of JW in every way possible. Polo shirt to JW’s usual cotton shirt, khakis compared to jeans, and loafers whereas the object of my unwanted affection wears boots. I’m already re-thinking this whole date thing while shaking his hand.
No spark.
No tingling.
No clinching my thighs together to relieve an ache.
Nothing.
I take my hand back, slyly rubbing my hand on my pants yet again. Clayton isn’t giving off creep vibes. He’s just not doing anything for me.
“Hi, I’m Debbie, and I’ll be your server tonight,” the waitress says as she places my water and Aperol Spritz on the table. Thankfully breaking the awkward silence between Clayton and me.
“Thank you,” I say.
“What can I get for you?” She’s looking at Clayton, giving me ample time to drink some liquid courage. Michelle and Madison gave me a few pointers to keep the conversation flowing, each of them married with kids and yet living vicariously through their baby sister. All their advice has gone out the window now that we were face to face.
“A cosmo.” My eyes meet Debbie’s. She has a straight poker face, whereas I have to swallow a sip of my drink as fast as possible in fear I’ll choke with laughter. JW would never order a fruity drink. He’s a beer drinker through and through. The Johnson brothers have the same taste when it comes to alcohol. Beer in the form of Snake River Pale Ale. Only Trey likes to dabble in the hard liquor though he could pull the others in with a bet.
“Of course. I’ll be right back with your order. The menus are on the table. Today’s chef specials are mini crab cakes, cowboy lobster bisque, and bison flank steak.” My mouth waters just thinking of that cowboy lobster bisque along with their wedge salad. I could also eat my weight in their warm bread lathered in butter.
“So, Maeve, tell me about yourself.” Clayton picks up the conversation once Debbie leaves the table. The only problem is we’ve done the small talk via the dating app. He knows I’m a baker. I know he’s a real estate agent, lives a few towns over, and is looking for a wife to settle down with. Yep, the app is nothing if not thorough.
“You already know I’m a baker. I own a bakery and enjoy coming up with new desserts. I have two older sisters, and I’ve grown up here in Arrowleaf.” Small talk is not my forte. I’m more of a sit-back-and-observe type of person. A lot can be said with little to no words. It’s others who feel they need to disturb the comfortable quiet with talking.
“Any chance you’d be willing to move away?” I slide my drink toward me. Something tells me I’m going to need more than one to get through this dinner.
“Nope, I’ll never leave Arrowleaf. This is my home. My business is here, and so is my family.” My lips wrap around the cute straw Prime Cuts uses with their drinks. Their attention to detail, good food, and excellent service makes the restaurant one of the busiest in our town.
“Interesting,” Clayton says, moving on to something else. I nod my head at appropriate times. Then my gaze catches the man who just walked through the door. Is Mercury in Gatorade or something? He’s tall and built from his time working on the ranch and farriering horses. His arm muscles are literal porn, and my god, his back… I’ve only seen him in a tightly fitted cotton shirt. I can’t even imagine him without one. Okay, fine, I can and I have though I’m sure it didn’t do him any justice.
Tonight, JW is wearing a pearl snap button-down shirt, jeans, boots, and a black cowboy hat. A far cry from the man who’s currently yammering about real estate booming around our state and how he’s selling more property than ever. Clayton doesn’t have my attention at all. My eyes are solely focused on a certain cowboy, and when our gazes clash, it’s not me who shies away this time; it’s JW. I lose his deep sky-blue eyes. While I’ve tried to shut down what I’ve felt for the big jerk, the task seems impossible. It’s clear Clayton won’t be the one to help keep my mind off JW. I’m not sure anyone can.
“Excuse me, Clayton, I’ll be right back. I’ve got to use the restroom.” I stand up, and Clayton does too. He has manners and seems like a nice guy, minus the fact he’s not JW. He’d be perfect for someone who isn’t me.
“Of course.”
I grab my purse, knowing I’ll be making a phone call to my sisters. I’m going to need them to help me escape this farce of a date and these damn feelings I have for JW Johnson.
ONE
JW
Present Day
“Look what I have!” Juniper’s voice carries through the house, the clatter of the back door sounding behind her. Everyone uses the back door off the kitchen. Not even sure the front door is ever unlocked anymore.
“Stay out of that box. You know who that’s for.” My ears perk up. No damn way Mae sent over cinnamon rolls for me.
“Damn, what does a guy have to do to get his own box of cookies?” Trey says. I can hear the smack as someone slaps his hand away. Case, Ryland’s boy, is sitting up on the floor beside me playing. When he takes ahold of your finger to pull you down, you do what he wants. In today’s case, it’s playing with Lincoln logs. Every time I’m over, there’s a new addition to his toy box. This one has Mom written all over it. She’ll hit up a thrift store, a garage sale, or head into the bigger city and wreak havoc on their credit card. Secretly, I think she is a little peeved that her first grandchild no longer lives with her anymore.
“You wanna go see what kind of treats Aunt Juni brought this time?” Case is over a year old now. He says a few words, mainly dada and nana. He doesn't give me an answer, but his nodding is answer enough. Ryland is worried he’s not talking nearly enough, but the pediatrician keeps telling him he’s doing fine. I stand up first. He lifts his arms up, bouncing up and down on his feet impatiently while waiting on his uncle to get with the program.
“I hear ya buddy, loud and clear.” I scoop him up in my arms, settle him on my hip, and make our way from the living room into the kitchen. He’s taken a few steps before plopping his little butt on the floor and giving up. He’s a speedster with crawling, getting from point A to point B. Can’t say that I blame him. I always say work smarter, not harder. Case makes a humming noise, hand going out with his pointer finger at his daddy once we round the corner into the kitchen.
“Da, da, da, da.” Ryland looks up at Case and me, an éclair stuffed in his mouth. He knows his luck has run out. His boy has a sweet tooth exactly like him, and there is no way in hell we can say no to the little rascal. Though we do make sure his diet doesn’t consist of just sweets.
“Looks like you gotta share this time, brother.”
Ryland nods and breaks a small piece of dough off his éclair, making sure not to give him any chocolate and I appreciate that. The first thing Case will do is take it back out of his mouth, wrap his fingers around the dessert, and then proceed to chew on it. The lasting effect will be on his fingers, which he’ll then rub anywhere he can without a care in the world.
“Let me take him from you.” Ry tips his head over his shoulder, telling me telepathically to get my shit together and keep Trey out of my cinnamon rolls. The damn fool doesn’t even like them. He lives to raise hell, baiting everyone with something or the other. He’ll bet you anything at any time, especially when there’s a chore he doesn’t want to do. Currently, he’s been giving me hell when it comes to Maeve Oliver. There’s only so much I’ll take. A phone call to Amos Ellison will put him firmly in his place. I’ve yet to do that and I’d like not to, but if my brother keeps trying my motherfucking hand, I’ll throw his ass to the wolves. After all, turnabout is fair play.
My eyes lock on the three boxes on the kitchen table, one of them is still closed. They're sage in color with pink cursive font spelling out Whisked Away over a faded white whisk in the background. Soft and sweet, exactly like the woman herself.
I keep my lips zipped, jaw clenched, and my eyes diverted from the others in the room. Much like I have for the past month. My hunger for Maeve is barely controllable. The reasons I’m holding myself back are plentiful. The list is probably as long as my fucking arm.
She’s ten years younger than me.
She radiates innocence.
And my cravings would send her running. I want to watch Maeve drop to her knees and crawl toward me, naked. And the need to hear her call me daddy while her cunt is choking my cock is almost overwhelming.
But now she’s dating some damn businessman, who wears pressed pants for god’s sake. When I saw her at Prime Cuts, it took everything in my power to turn and walk away. The only reason I could is because she deserves better than me. She needs a man who is better for her.
“JW, those are for you. Maeve wanted me to let you know those will probably be the last. She’s discontinuing them once this batch is gone. Apparently, they’re not big sellers, and you haven’t been around in a few weeks...” Juniper leaves the sentence open. I’ve stayed away, allowing her the chance to live her life without invading her space.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
“JW.” Mom comes up beside me, pinching behind my upper arm and saying my name in that stern manner of hers. “Case’s vocabulary does not need the four-letter word variety. You’ll curb your mouth or find yourself banished to the porch.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I should have known her ears would hear me.
“Hey, if it helps you feel any better, JW,” Tully says around a mouthful, “she’s discontinuing croissants too. Luckily not my favorite chocolate-filled ones. Though, that’s probably because I stop by any day I can to pick one up. Even if no one else places an order here at the ranch.”
I mull over what Tully says, it seems everyone and their brother has appeared inside the house since I’ve been here. Two plus two is not equaling four. At first, I figured this had something to do with me keeping away from Maeve. Now that Tallulah told me about the croissants, which I’ve had for lunch when Mom served her famous chicken salad on them enough times to know they’re damn good. I’d say there’s a whole lot more to Maeve than I’m being led to believe.
“Is she having a hard time with the bakery?” I direct my question to Tully and Juni seeing as how they seem to know more about her than anyone else in this damn house.
“Not that I’m aware. As far as I know she wants to push other desserts that sell well so she needs the space in her cases,” Tallulah says with a shrug of her shoulders. I pick up the box that houses my cinnamon rolls, holding them in my hands and away from anyone else’s grubby fingers.
“Gotcha. Well, I’m outta here. I’m gonna drop these off at my house then get to working on the horses.” I’m a farrier for our ranch, working on the horses, cows, goats, and whatever other four-legged animals Mom and the girls bring home.
“Oh, that reminds me. There’s a new donkey in the spare stall. Will you and Tully check him out?” Mom just dropping bombs out here, not surprising in the least.
“Where’d you find this one, Donkey’s R Us?” Trey inserts. He’s on a roll today, and it won’t be me who knocks him on his ass. It’ll be Mom.
“No, smart aleck.” Mom grabs him by the ear and continues, “Someone was selling the poor thing out of the back of a pick-up truck. He was the last one and needed a home. You don’t take care of my animals, so zip your lips. I swear my boys are trying to age me well before my time today.”
“Text me whenever Tallulah is done, then I’ll come look at your new baby.” I bend down and drop a kiss to Mom’s cheek. “See the rest of you later.” I give them all a two-finger wave. Before I get my day started, I’m going to enjoy a cinnamon roll and mull over what I’m going to do about Maeve discontinuing a couple of desserts all of a sudden.
