Page 48 of Cowboy Don't Go

“Since you asked,” she said, grinning. “There is a myth about those two. The story goes that Cepheus and Cassiopeia were married—a king and queen. They had a daughter Andromeda.”

“I’m intrigued, and I’ve heard of that one,” he admitted. “Go on.”

“So apparently, Cassiopeia, the king’s wife, thought she was all that. Sort of inadvertently, insulted the sea god, Poseidon, by claiming she was more beautiful than all the sea nymphs, of which his wife happened to be one. Which got Cepheus in big trouble with Poseidon, who sent a giant sea monster to avenge his wife and destroy Cepheus’s kingdom. An oracle told Cepheus the only way to prevent complete disaster to his kingdom was to sacrifice his only child, Andromeda. Which they did. Horrible. They left her chained to some rock in the sea to await the tide. But before she could drown, she was saved by Perseus, who heroically rescued Andromeda. Then he defeated the big, bad sea monster and got to marry the princess.”

“The end?” He was really enjoying her story and didn’t want it to be over.

“Not quite. After the sea monster debacle, there was a big fight at the wedding over who got to keep Andromeda. See, her uncle claimed she should belong to him—all very incestuous with those gods—and after a brief tiff, Perseus, who was greatly outnumbered, managed to get everyone turned to stone with”—she cringed—“Medussa’s head, including Andromeda’s awful parents who forgot to look away and also turned to stone. The only survivors were the two of them. And off they went. The end.”

“And they lived happily ever after?”

She shrugged. “There they are. Still up in the night sky.”

“Hard to argue with that logic. But her parents . . . they deserved it, chaining her to that rock.”

“Sacrifice for the greater good, I guess they thought. Didn’t really work out for them.”

He gazed up at the cluster of stars, picking out the constellation. “Maybe that’s why the constellation’s shaped like a house. Maybe that was the payoff for surviving sacrifice. A home that would never disappear?”

She smiled slowly. “I like that. See? Deep thoughts.”

He grinned as she pushed away from the fence. The look she sent him held a thousand unspoken things. One word from her and this detente between them would end and he would have dragged her to the nearest hayloft. Made her his.

But she said, “’Night, Cooper.”

He nodded to her. “’Night, Shay.” He watched her walk away until she disappeared into the house. Then he turned to the sky again, only vaguely unsettled by the idea that love and sacrifice were so inextricably bound together.

Chapter Nine

The Creighton wedding happened that next weekend. There was a lot of frantic, last-minute setup that happened the morning of. But in the end, Shay surveyed the reception that was in full swing under the pretty lights Cooper and his father had untangled and strung up and breathed a contented sigh of relief. The happy couple were dancing under the stars on the wooden dance floor, the weather was holding and still balmy enough in the evening to require only a few gas heaters dotted around. The barn—she had to admit—looked beautiful, the guests, delighted. Even the affable minister, Mr. Gleason, who’d driven down from Billings to perform the ceremony, had gushed about the locale and how lovely everything was.

The bride had cream-colored roses and lilies everywhere. The whole night seemed scented with them. The local four-piece band they’d hired to play during the reception had a bluesy-country sound with a slide guitar player who gave her chills. Shay made a note to recommend them again in the future.

Cami wove through the crowd, making sure everyone had everything they needed. Liam made sure the bartender, parked under the barn’s eaves, had plenty of ice and alcohol. The bussers they’d hired were busy cleaning up after the meal. At this point, the hard work was done. All that was left was to watch the guests enjoy the night.

Sarah and Ryan had disappeared around nine along with Will and Izzy, who’d shown up for any last-minute glitches. Ray and Cooper made themselves scarce. She hadn’t seen them all evening—which she’d expected. Weddings weren’t part of Cooper’s job description. In fact, Ray had taken charge of the puppies, who had come back from the vet with a clean bill of health.

“It will be good for Ray to have something to focus on besides his health,” Sarah had said, when she’d turned the pups over to Cooper. For the past few days, that was exactly what happened. The pups were a handful, but despite his initial reluctance, Ray was smitten. He even named them Pippa and Poppy.

Shay smiled at the four-year-old flower girl and the ring bearer, dressed to the nines and dancing amidst the older couples. At nearly ten p.m., they were still going strong; the current subject of the wedding photographer who happened to be the groom’s sister. Shay was thinking how it seemed like yesterday that Ryan was that little when Cooper walked up behind her.

“Looks like you pulled this one off without a hitch,” he murmured out of the hearing of the guests. “If those two are any indication, looks like the wedding was a success.”

In response, she couldn’t help but laugh at the little ones. “Aren’t they adorable?”

He grinned. “Siblings?”

“I don’t think they knew each other before tonight.”

“Ah. That explains why he’s been putting his best moves on her for the last few minutes.”

The little blond boy, who’d been dancing up a storm, wrapped his arms around the flower girl right at that moment, as if to prove Cooper’s point.

Shay laughed. “I expect one or both of them to fall dead asleep any minute. At that age, they go until they drop.”

Cooper folded his arms across his chest, enjoying the music and the dancing. He wasn’t dressed up, but he’d definitely upscaled from his work clothes. His long legs were sheathed in dark blue denims—not the kind cowboys wore, but city denims, and a plain white shirt rolled up at the sleeves. She rarely saw him without his hat, but his dark hair was short, sexy, and edged with strands of gray that made her want to run her fingers through it.

She blinked back the impulse.

---