Her Cowboy Cousins: A Reverse Harem Romance

by Veronica Wade

  I laugh. “Come on now, no kid thinks horses are gross.” I step toward her. “Horses are amazing creatures, majestic beings. They’re some of the most beautiful animals on God’s green earth and they allow us to ride them.”

  Hayley shrugs again. “My mom says that the country is dirty, that’s why she moved away from it. She says she’d never ride a horse.”

  Now I see where Hayley’s disdain for the ranch comes from.

  “Well, I’ve got it on good authority your mom has ridden a lot of horses,” I tell her.

  Her eyes widen. “Really?”

  I nod. “I knew your mama way back when, in high school. I’ve seen her ride. She didn’t think it was dirty back then.”

  Hayley seems to think on this. It’s sad actually how easy it is to change her mind. It’s clear the only thing this poor girl cares about is being like her mother.

  “Would you like to go sometime? I’ll teach you,” I tell her.

  “It seems scary.” She doesn’t sound so bratty now, just genuinely nervous.

  “It’s not scary at all, trust me. You’ve got to trust me on that. Come on, I’ll take you later this week. It’ll be fun.”

  A smile peeks out. “Okay,” she answers.

  “All right. But you better get to bed now, it’s dark out. I’ll walk to you to the bunkhouse.”

  Well, I don’t find my cousins, but at least I have a moment to bond with Hayley. Someone’s got to act like they care about this little girl, as bad as her attitude may be.

  Maybe, if her mom isn’t going to, I can be the one to teach her some manners.

  Sarah

  I don’t even realize that I’m pushing the scrambled eggs around on my plate without actually bringing any to my mouth until they’re nothing but cold, hard lumps.

  My thoughts are heavy, full of Marshall, Spencer, and Morgan. Morgan’s words have been swirling around my head ever since our last conversation. I should go after what I want, he said… but what do I want?

  This is dumb. I know what I want… all three of them. And no matter how badly I might want it, that’s never going to happen. That’s not how relationships work.

  “What’s up with you?” my mom asks me from across the table.

  “Nothing.” I try to sound casual but my voice just comes out fake. My mom knows me better than anyone. I’ve never been able to lie to her successfully, no matter how I try.

  “You have been so off lately. What is going on in that head of yours?” she insists.

  “Seriously, Mom, it’s nothing. Just getting adjusted to the new job and everything.”

  “Ahh… I knew that was it,” she says in an almost spiteful, accusatory tone.

  “What?” I ask, unsure at what she’s hinting at.

  “One of them boys has been bothering you.” Her tone is judgmental. “I knew it was no good, you working for them. Is it Spencer? I told you, he has a reputation.”

  “What? What exactly are you accusing my bosses of?” I ask.

  “Harassing a young girl!” She shakes her head.

  “A young girl? Mom, I’m a grown adult woman and I don’t need you worrying about what is going on at my job. It’s my business, not yours.” I hear Morgan’s voice in my head as I speak my truth.

  “You are my daughter, Sarah. And if those men are harassing you, I want to know. They are a lot older than you, and they certainly know how to coerce a young woman into—”

  I slam my fork down on my plate without even letting her finish her statement. “No, Mother, they’re not harassing me. There is not a bit of coercion involved because, guess what? I like them! I like them of my own volition! I am capable of having an interest in a man without him manipulating me, you do know that?”

  Her jaw drops. “Are you telling me… Are you fooling around with those boys?”

  “So what if I am?” I snap. “I’m a twenty-one-year-old woman, Mom! I don’t need your permission to date!”

  I’ve never seen her scowl so hard. “You will quit. You will give your notice today. In fact…” She stands up and walks over to the phone. “I will call and quit for you right now.”

  I race over to the phone, take it from her hands, and slam it down. “No, you damn well will not. Because I’m not quitting, and you don’t speak for me. You may be my mother, but you do not make decisions for me anymore. You haven’t had that responsibility since I turned eighteen. And clearly I have messed up by letting you have so much power over my life these past few years. It ends now! You will not control me any longer.”

  Her scowl has faded, and though she’s still clearly livid, she’s got more of a look of surprise. She clearly wasn’t expecting this kind of reaction from me. And, really, why would she? Up until now, I’ve been her perfect, well-behaved daughter. I’ve never given her a reason to punish me before. I’ve never talked back. This is a side to me she has never seen.

  Morgan’s words resonated with me deeply. I can’t live my life for other people. I won’t be what everyone wants me to be. I will live this one life I have for myself, no matter how that conflicts with my mom’s plans for me.

  “You will mess up with those boys, Sarah,” she continues. “You will make a mistake you can’t take back. You cannot be with them.”

  “I can!” I insist. “And if ever I make a mistake, it’s mine to make, not yours!”

  I can see she’s furious that she’s losing her hold on me. She isn’t going to back down. But neither am I, and there’s nothing she can do about it. She can’t force me to quit.

  I think at first that she’s going to get over it in a few days… that it will be hard for her to accept I’m moving on with my life but eventually she will acknowledge it and respect my decisions.

  So my heart sinks at what she says next.

  “Pack your bags,” she says to me.

  Her words are as clear as day, but I feel confused.

  “What?” I ask.

  “This is not the woman you will be under my roof. This is not how I raised you. If you won’t quit, you can pack your bags and leave.”

  “You’re kicking me out?” There’s a desperation in my voice.

  “Unless you quit this job right now, yes.” She seems serious, handing me the phone.

  But I tell myself this is her last effort to manipulate me into doing what she wants. As soon as she sees her attempts to manipulate me are not going to work, she isn’t going to really kick me out. She is going to get over it. So I’ll call her bluff.

  “Fine! I’ll pack a bag right now!”

  I storm off into my room and do just that, pulling two suitcases out from my closet and filling them. I don’t really have much—I’m not one for material things—but I’ve got a fair amount of clothes and some little trinkets, plus my electronics.

  I figure as I pack that she’s going to walk in any minute, see my full bags, and insist I stay. She’ll say that fighting is ridiculous, and we’ll work this all out for real.

  But the longer I’m in my room packing, the less it seems like she’s going to come in after me. And when I finish and roll my two suitcases out of my room and into the living room, she’s still in the kitchen eating her breakfast.

  I’m waiting for her to stop me, to say anything to show that this isn’t what she wants. But she seems content, like this isn’t a problem for her in the slightest.

  Her reaction breaks my heart.

  I grab my keys and I head out the door. She doesn’t follow me, doesn’t come to my car. I drive away and she doesn’t call my phone.

  When I arrive at work and still haven’t heard from her, I’m downright frantic. My anger is replaced with fear and anxiety.

  What am I going to do? I’ve never lived on my own. I don’t have a big enough savings account to make it all by myself. How can I survive without my mom’s help?

  And how can she do this to me? All because I won’t do exactly what she tells me to do? Does she not want me to grow up at all?

  Well, that’s what I wanted…
to have room to grow. And now she’s giving me a ton of it. It’s absolutely frightening, but I kept telling her I’m an adult. So now I’ve got to be one.

  I try to put on my brave face to walk into work. I can do this; I can be an adult. I’ll just find somewhere to sleep tonight, a hotel or something. I can look into cheap lodging in town. I’ll be able to do something. This isn’t impossible. People move out all the time.

  But my anxiety goes far beyond simply moving out. I’m wrecked that my mother is even capable of doing this to me. I thought we were close, that we had a great relationship, but apparently that relationship is only contingent on her being able to have full control of me.

  I take in a deep breath before I walk in. At first, I think I’m doing a good job of keeping my emotions concealed and staying calm, despite how afraid I am internally.

  But when Marshall walks in and sees me, I realize I must not be doing as stellar of a job as I think I am. “What’s wrong?” he asks immediately.

  “Nothing.” I force a smile and try to keep my composure.

  But he isn’t buying it. “Come with me,” he instructs.

  Part of me hates that he’s dragging me elsewhere to talk about this because I don’t want to have a breakdown at work, but another part of me really needs to get this off my chest. This is one of the more stressful things I’ve had to experience in my life, and trying to keep myself together when I feel desperately like falling apart is maddening.

  He takes me upstairs and into the parlor. We both take a seat and just a moment later, before we can even start talking, Spencer and Morgan are in here too.

  I think Marshall must have texted them or something. He did have his phone out as we walked up here. I don’t know if I’m relieved or even more stressed that they’re here.

  “What’s going on, seriously?” Marshall asks me. “You can tell us.”

  “I… got kicked out.” I try not to tear up as I say it.

  “What?” Morgan gasped.

  “Yeah. I mean, I did exactly as you said. I tried to assert myself, tried to prove to my mom that I’m an independent adult and she can’t continue to control me the way she does. But she became so livid. She wanted me to quit my job here and I refused, so she just told me to pack a bag.”

  “Fuck,” Spencer mutters, and both he and Marshall have a look of worry on their face.

  Morgan steps in and gives me a hug, offering me comfort once again.

  I’m shocked by how good it feels to be in his arms. I feel warmth spread out from within me. His hand on the small of my back makes me feel supported and calm, something I didn’t even think was possible.

  When Morgan steps back, Marshall says, “So, where do you plan to go?”

  “A hotel? I don’t really have much of a plan in place, honestly. I’m still reeling.”

  “Well, you’ll stay here, of course,” Marshall says definitively. “Right, guys?”

  “Of course!” Morgan says, an empathetic smile on his face.

  “Yup, sounds good,” Spencer adds. “I mean, seems like this shit is kind of our fault anyway.”

  “It’s not your fault,” I say immediately. “It’s my mom’s fault! It’s her inability to let me grow as an adult. I always knew it would be hard for her to let go of her control of me, but I really never thought she’d take it this far.”

  “Maybe she’ll change her mind?” Morgan suggests.

  “Even if she does, I don’t know if I can ever live with her again. I told her I’m an adult and now that I’ve drawn this line in the sand, I don’t see how I can go back to living under her roof.”

  “Well, either way, you have a place here,” Marshall tells me.

  “In the bunkhouse? With Eva?” I ask.

  I don’t want to be picky. I should be grateful for a roof anywhere, but Eva has been driving me absolutely insane. I’ve cleaned nearly every room since I started working here. I don’t even know what she does all day. I barely even see her with Hayley.

  “No,” Spencer answers for Marshall. “She can stay in that small bedroom above our living quarters.”

  “Right.” Marshall nods. “That’s perfect. I mean, it’s not a huge room, but it’s separated from the rest of us, so you’ll have privacy. Would that work for you?”

  “Yeah, I don’t mind that at all,” I say with relief. “But… I can’t just live there for free, right? How much would you charge me in rent?”

  “Please.” Spencer rolls his eyes. “Of course you’re staying for free.”

  “He’s right,” Marshall agrees. “You can stay as long as you want. You owe us nothing, of course. No strings attached.”

  “No strings attached. Good.” I smile.

  But for some reason I don’t like that phrase. No strings attached. But what if I want strings attached?

  Not that I want to trade sex for room and board. I’m not a prostitute. But no strings attached sounds so… distant. I don’t want to be distant with any of them.

  So I guess it’s good I’m now going to be living with them.

  “We can show you it now,” Morgan says. “Did you bring anything with you or do you need to go get your stuff? Because you just take the day off if you need to pack.”

  It’s insane to me how understanding they all are. I haven’t been working with them too long, and so far, I’ve been mostly trouble. It’s so sweet that they’re this kind to me. Especially Morgan. He’s got such a nurturing way about him. But Spencer and Marshall are very kind too, although in a more stoic way.

  “No, I packed before I left. I’ve got suitcases in my car.”

  Marshall asks for the keys to my car to grab my bags, and I give them to him. He and Spencer go down to it while Morgan takes me to the living quarters they stayed in.

  “Hey, I’m really sorry,” he begins to tell me on the walk over there.

  “Sorry?” I ask, confused. “Sorry for what? You’re kind of doing me a really big favor here.”

  “Sorry that I gave you the advice that led to you being kicked out,” he says sheepishly.

  Oh, right. I hadn’t even pieced it together or thought of it that way at all.

  “Don’t be,” I tell him. “I appreciated hearing your advice. And it was the right move. I can’t sit there and be a slave to my mother’s will all my life. At some point, I had to confront her. And if this is how she’s going to react to me being an adult… well, I’d rather know now. If anything, you did me a favor.”

  I truly am starting to believe that. Now that the shock of it all is wearing off and I have a place to stay, I’m starting to feel a little bit independent. I’m making choices for myself. I feel the seeds of a completely different person inside me.

  Marshall and Spencer catch up with us just as we enter the living quarters. While a lot smaller than the main building with all the guest suites, it has the same comforting, country feel that the parlor does. It’s got a woodstove with a bucket of logs ready to burn beside it, a small kitchen with pots and pans hanging from the ceiling, and a gleaming wood floor with a large, red area rug. I could totally make a home in a place like this. It’s quaint.

  “Come on upstairs. This is where your room is going to be,” Morgan says, as he leads the way.

  “This room used to belong to Uncle Gary’s partner,” Marshall explains. “He moved out completely after his passing.”

  “Oh, his business partner?” I ask.

  “Uh…” Marshall stumbles on his words, but Spencer laughs.

  “Yeah, he was his business manager, and then some.”

  “He really was his business manager, but he was his partner too,” Marshall elaborates. “As in, his lover.”

  “Oh!” I suddenly understand. “I didn’t even realize that your Uncle Gary was gay.”

  “Yeah things were different. It was his best-kept secret,” Spencer says. “Even growing up, he used to tell us his partner, Jeff, was his roommate. Not that anyone in our family would’ve judged him, but, y’know, this is still a conservativ
e town. And when he was growing up, being gay was shit you just didn’t cop to.”

  “He went to his grave without ever really coming out,” Morgan adds, “even though I think on some level most people must have realized Jeff was more than his business manager.”

  The thought breaks my heart. “So he lived his entire life without ever being able to be truly open about who he loves?” I can’t even imagine that.

  “No…” Marshall says, more sadly than I’ve ever seen him. “But at least they got to be happy together.”

  That’s true, I guess, but it still seems horribly sad. If ever I’m lucky enough to be in a relationship with someone I truly love, I’m going to want to shout it from the rooftops. I’ll tell anyone and everyone about the love of my life. We’ll get married, have a big wedding, the whole shebang.

  Though that’s pretty far off from the point I’m at in my life now.

  “It really is sad when people have to hide their love just because it’s unconventional and society hasn’t caught up,” Morgan says, with a tone that suggests this issue is very near and dear to his heart. Not because he himself is gay. I know he isn’t from experience. Perhaps it’s just his empathy for his uncle. I can understand; I have empathy for him too and I’ve never even met him.

  We step into the bedroom and it’s quaint too. A small bed, not a twin size but only one step up, with a red and blue quilt on top. There’s a wooden armoire on the side of the room in lieu of a closet and a matching bedside table with a white lamp.

  “It’s pretty empty, I know,” Marshall says. “But you can add all your own stuff into it. Make it your own space.”

  “It’s perfect,” I say as I look around to all of them. “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. You have no idea what this means to me. It’s everything. You guys have been so much kinder than you ever needed to be.”

  “It’s really no problem at all,” Marshall assures me. “We have an empty room, and you need one.”

  “And like I said before, pretty sure we’re the reason you’re in this mess anyway,” Spencer shrugs. “Least we can do is fix what we can.”

  “I really, truly don’t want any of you guys to feel that way at all,” I say seriously. “I’m grateful for this job. I think it’s been the best thing to happen to me in a really, really long time. No matter what’s happened as a consequence of it, I’m grateful.”