Page 41 of A Nice Day for a Cowboy Wedding

Micah looked out into the distance, where the sun was flirting with the peaks of the mountains. He watched, his face tense as Cora’s car approached. Then he flicked another glance at Shane before his gaze drifted toward the stables.

“Well, thanks.”

“For what?” Shane asked, his own gaze on the now stopped car and Cora stepping out, the early evening light making her hair look more gold than its usual reddish hue. His chest kicked something strange as her mouth curved when her blue gaze met his.

“The horses and stuff. I like it a lot. I like it here,” Micah said it all in a rush, likely embarrassed to admit he liked something.

“You’re always welcome here, Micah. Promise.”

Micah nodded jerkily as Cora reached the stairs.

“Hey, guys. All horsed out?”

“I think if he had his way he’d still be on one, but our stomachs got the better of us, didn’t they?”

Micah nodded. He didn’t exactly lean into his mother when she slid her arm around him, but there was something Shane could see in the slight movement of his shoulders. A relaxation. A comfort.

Shane opened the door and stepped inside, gesturing for them to follow. “I think I smell meatloaf. Anyone not a fan?”

“Anything is better than my own cooking,” Cora said with a chuckle. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

Micah groaned, probably at the endearment, but he gave Shane a meaningful glance as they stepped inside. As if to saysee, she is a terrible cook.

Shane closed the door and then walked behind them as Cora led Micah toward the dining room. If his gaze dropped to the way her pants skimmed her—

He jerked his eyes back up to the back of her head, except she’d glanced back at him and caught him in the act of checking out her ass.

She, however, didn’t frown or narrow her eyes or so much as look flustered. Instead, she winked at him.

He was toast.

Chapter Eleven

Dinner was amazing. Not just the food, though partially that. Also, the company. Cora had never seen anything like it. Though she’d had some dinners with the Mile High crew, and those could get a little loud, it was just three men and three women plus her and Micah. Sometimes with the addition of Skeet. It was very adult and friendly.

This was like watching a fireworks display. Bursts of color and noise, some bigger and brighter and louder than the rest. The occasional whistle of a fizzle, a tense silent moment as everyone waited for that next thunderous boom, and then all light and dazzle again. An engaging, otherworldly display she couldn’t look away from.

On the occasions when she could tear her gaze away from Shane and the way he all but led the table in their circuitous teasing and boisterous conversation, she looked at Micah, who watched as if he was as in awe as she was.

It was strange to be able to watch her son be engaged and happy and not feel that stab of guilt. Usually Micah’s being happy only reminded her how terribly she’d failed him up to this point. But there was something about the warmth of the Tyler dining room, even with the occasional tense moment when Ben added something and everything in the room seemed to pause, hold its breath, and wait.

No explosions ever came. It was a careful dance, mostly made up of laughter and love, and no one ever acted as though she and Micah shouldn’t be there or didn’t belong, which was its own wonder.

Especially as Shane easily maneuvered the conversation into the suggestion of starting up the fire pit and roasting marshmallows, while everyone jumped onto the idea, easily including Cora and Micah in the plans.

“You men go get the fire started. I want to show this boy my sword collection,” Grandma Maisey said, pushing back from the table.

Cora looked frantically around as everyone acted like that was a completely normal sentence and kept clearing dishes.

“Cool,” Micah said, practically leaping from his chair.

“Grandma,” Shane said, nodding toward Cora, who was still sitting there like a landed fish. Gaping. Speechless.

Maisey waved a hand. “Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart. There’s no touching. Most stuff ’s behind glass or hung up. Only time anyone ever got hurt was when a bird flew into the room and I stabbed it. And birds hardly count as anyones.”

“Sure,” Cora said. “That’s totally normal. Swords. My child. Dead birds.” Micah trailed happily after Maisey while Molly and Deb cleared the table. Gavin and Boone had disappeared, arguing over how to best roast a marshmallow, and Cora was left sitting at the dining room table feeling a bit like she’d been hit like a gong.

“He’ll be fine. I promise,” Shane said, pushing back from the table himself. He gathered the last of the plates and handed them to Molly when she came back into the room.

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