A Nice Day for a Cowboy Wedding Page 2

  Shane sighed. Maybe moving the dirt would give him a few minutes of thinking to figure out how to nip this in the bud.

  His siblings weren’t too keen on the wedding either, but Gavin’s solutions were all too violent and illegal. Lindsay and Molly had both insisted that, even if they didn’t approve, they should mind their own business, and Boone wasn’t around to voice an opinion at all.

  Shane was the oldest, though, and, after Dad had died, the reins of this family had fallen to him. Not that he’d ever say that in front of Mom or Grandma. Still, he couldn’t wait around, twiddling his thumbs, hoping his mother didn’t make the biggest mistake of her life. He had to act—without getting thrown in jail, as Gavin’s plans would surely get them.

  Shane walked out the back and around the house to the garage and keyed in the code. He hung his hat on the hook, then went over to Mom’s truck. He hefted two sacks of dirt out of the trunk and over his shoulder, relaxing as his body got into manual-labor mode.

  Maybe he could tell the wedding planner they didn’t have any money. That every last cent was tied up in the ranch and any checks written to her would inevitably bounce. Stall this nonsense.

  He walked passed MacGregor with the bags of dirt on his shoulder. The horse eyed him.

  “Don’t judge me,” Shane muttered. Sometimes the ends justified the slightly sketchy means.

  He’d given up swaying Grandma to his side, and he knew telling his siblings they needed to interfere would only ensure they thought otherwise. They never cared for his telling them what to do.

  A Tyler family trait, which made it a good thing they ran their own ranch. None of them could probably stay gainfully employed somewhere else without thumbing their noses at the boss.

  Well, except Boone. But since his job was trying to stay a few seconds on an angry bull, Shane didn’t count that much for listening to a boss.

  Shane unloaded all the bags of dirt, then arranged it around Mom’s garden plot in a way that it would be easy for her to put the dirt where it needed to go. On an oath, he pulled his Swiss army knife out of his pocket.

  He knew exactly where Mom would want all the dirt, and it’d take him less time to do it. So, he went about cutting bags open and dumping the extra dirt in the newly turned plot she’d start planting in soon.

  Once that was done, he figured he might as well go ahead and get some fertilizer from the stables while he was at it. It would give Mom the time to plant rather than fiddle with the hefting and hauling part of the garden.

  He headed back for the garage. Better ride over to Gavin and tell him he was fooling with the garden at Mom’s request so Gavin could get on with things with the cattle.

  He grabbed his hat, but before he could walk over to MacGregor, a female voice interrupted him.

  “Oh, hi. Excuse me?”

  When he turned, the wedding planner was making a beeline for him. Shane scowled, but manners had been drummed into him too hard for that to last. It wasn’t her fault his mother was falling for a lying piece of trash. He forced himself to smile. Well, not scowl anyway.

  “Hello, again,” she greeted, peering up at him. “May I have a moment? Real quick. I promise.” She smiled broadly. What had she said her name was? Cora?

  “Sure,” he muttered, slightly taken off guard by the way the sun glinted off her hair, showing off every possible shade from golden blond to reddish brown. He’d never seen a hair color like it.

  “I do hope you’ll be cooperative,” she began as he chastised himself for thinking about someone’s hair color. “Your mother is hoping you’ll walk her down the aisle, and she thinks you’ll refuse and—”

  “Damn right I’ll refuse,” he interrupted. He was not giving his mother away to a lying son of a bitch. Not even to spare her feelings.

  “But surely . . .” She opened her mouth, then closed it. There was some kind of calculation going on in that head of hers.

  “Nice to meet you and all, but I’ve got work to do.” He took a step toward his horse, but she jumped in front of him, blocking his way. He didn’t worry about manners now. He glared down at her.

  “You love your mother, don’t you?” she asked, clearly unaffected by his glare.

  “You think I don’t approve because I don’t? That woman raised three boys, two girls, and ran a ranch with only my grandma for help for the past twenty years. She deserves all the happiness in the world, and I’d be jumping up and down for joy and offering to carry her down the aisle in a . . . whatever those things are they carried Cleopatra around in. I’d do anything for her.”

  Cora blinked up at him, dark blue eyes wide. She had the lightest freckles dusted across her nose, and her pretty pink mouth twisted in confusion. She wasn’t short by any means, but something about her gave off an aura of smallness. Not frail exactly, but not exactly hardy. He was used to hardy.

  “I disapprove,” he continued, because what did it matter what this woman looked like? “Because that sleazeball she’s marrying is after this ranch and this ranch alone, and I won’t let her be swindled out of this spread because she’s blinded by lust.”

  “Lust,” Cora echoed, a faint pink blotching across her cheeks.

  “He’s forty-two. My mother is fifty-two. You’ll have to pardon my skepticism.”

  Cora blinked, then smiled at him, much the way his mother smiled at him when she thought he was being unreasonable. “I think maybe, just maybe, you might be letting your protective instincts as a son blind you to your mother’s feelings. It’s even noble, I think,” she said gently. Almost sympathetically. “If you’d only—”

  “This wedding can’t happen. I’m going to make sure of it.” Maybe that was too blunt, but he wasn’t going to pretend he felt any differently to some stranger planning a wedding.

  “Over my dead body,” the woman muttered, then blushed when she seemed to realize she’d said it out loud.

  Shane held her blue gaze that seemed to match the sky above them. Regardless. “We’ll see about that,” he returned. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He didn’t wait for her response. He slipped the hat on his head and marched for MacGregor.

  One way or another, this wedding would not happen. Even if he had to fight the determined, pretty wedding planner on top of his mother and grandmother and Ben Donahue.

  Shane would do anything to protect his family. And that was that.

  Chapter Two

  Cora pulled her car into the carport next to her pretty little house on the corner of Hope and Aspen in the middle of Gracely. Lilly had picked it out a few years ago when she’d decided to move them away from Denver, and Stephen, to a place with legends about healing.

  Maybe someday Cora would want to pick out a place herself, but Lilly had good taste, and it had been the perfect house for Cora and Micah to heal in, and then plant some roots in. It suited them, even after Lilly had gone and gotten married and moved up to the mountains with Brandon.

  Cora sighed. Micah wasn’t happy, and she couldn’t figure out why. Last summer had been great, and this school year had gone well, Cora had thought. His grades had improved, he’d helped out at Mile High on the weekends, and she’d thought it had been giving him confidence.

  But as the school year had ended, Micah had clammed up. Turned sullen again. He complained about going to Mile High. He complained about the basketball camp he’d all but begged her to sign him up for a few months ago.

  Cora’s stomach twisted painfully at the thought of forcing him to tell her what was wrong. She’d failed him when he’d first come into this world, and, even with loads of family counseling and a little bit of therapy for herself, it was hard to get over that guilt. For the first seven years of his life, she’d let him see what no child should have to see, and then she’d spent two years in that wishy-washy space of stay or leave, be alone or hurt, accept this warped love or have no love at all.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. She was here now, and Micah was here now, and she would do right by him, even if she hadn’t
in the past.

  So, she had to push. No matter how much the coward inside of her didn’t want to.

  She opened her eyes and stared at the house, then realized her neighbor and friend was standing on the porch next door staring thoughtfully at her. Thoughtfully, not like she was watching a woman who’d lost her mind and was sitting in her idling car in her driveway having a mental argument with herself.

  Cora pulled the key out of the ignition and slid out of the car, forcing herself to smile brightly at Tori. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Tori crossed the narrow yard between their houses. “You okay?”

  “Sure I am.” Because Cora had spent a little too much of her life the past few years brooding and wallowing, and she’d made a New Year’s resolution all those months ago. No more self-pity. No more guilt. New Cora. New life. She’d been doing a damn fine job.

  “Wedding thing went good?”

  Cora tensed at the careful way Tori was beating around the bush. Tori never beat around the bush. “Yes, it did. Well, mostly.” She thought of Shane Tyler and his we’ll see about that.

  It was kind of sweet, all in all. After his little speech about how he’d do anything for his mother, and about the age difference between Deb and Ben, Cora understood why Deb’s children were reticent to be supportive. It wasn’t because they were being babies about the whole thing. It was because they wanted to protect their mother.

  But it was her job to make sure Deb got the wedding she’d always dreamed of, and Cora would find a way to get through to the Tyler kids. She would.

  But first, she had to deal with her own kid.

  Tori shoved her hands in her pockets and rocked back on her heels. “Listen. . . .”

  Bad news. Definitely bad news. “Whatever it is, just say it,” Cora said, bracing herself. She couldn’t stand Tori of all people being gentle with her.

  “Will went to pick up Micah,” Tori said, referring to her fiancé, Will Evans. Who also happened to be Lilly’s brother-in-law. Things at Mile High Adventures were nothing if not a complicated weaving of relations and relationships.

  And Will was picking up Cora’s son hours before basketball camp was supposed to be over. “Why? Was he hurt? Why didn’t anyone call me?”

  “Micah texted Will. Said he’d ditched basketball camp and needed a ride. He claimed he’d called you and you hadn’t answered, but we didn’t quite buy it.”

  Cora frantically pawed through her purse and grabbed her phone. She scrolled through everything. No, her son hadn’t called her. “Why would he do that? Why would he lie?”

  “I don’t know. Will was going to try to get it out of him.”

  Cora wanted to sink to the ground. She wanted to stomp her foot. She wanted to go upstairs and crawl in her bed and shut out the world. Instead, she smiled thinly at Tori. “I’m sorry Will had to go to the trouble of driving out to Benson.”

  “You know he didn’t mind.”

  “I know, but . . .” Cora heaved out a sigh. God, it was nice, this whole having a family and community thing. So many people to help her and her son out, so many people who loved them.

  But it was also hard. She was used to only having Lilly to lean on, which meant only Lilly seeing her failures. Now she had more people to lean on, but also more people who saw when she screwed up.

  Cora pushed that thought out of her head. Her therapist, Dr. Grove, was forever telling her motherhood was not a series of successes and failures. It was a complex mix of love and responsibility, and she shouldn’t blame herself when Micah had setbacks.

  Blame helped nobody. But Micah’s setbacks shamed her anyway. “I don’t know why he wouldn’t have called me. I don’t know why. . . .”

  “Who knows why kids do anything? Will’s going to try the whole man-to-man approach.”

  Will’s Jeep pulled up in front of Tori’s house, and Cora sucked in a breath. Man-to-man approach or not, she was still Micah’s mother, and she had to have her own approach.

  She saw Micah glance at her through the glass of the passenger-side window. She wished she could read those long, stoic looks. Micah was her son, and she had raised him, along with Lilly, but pretty much by herself. Still, so often Cora looked at him and had no idea what he was thinking or feeling.

  Dr. Grove assured her that was normal for all parents. Cora tried to believe it.

  Micah slunk out of the Jeep, and Will got out as well, following Micah toward her and Tori.

  “Hey, Mom,” Micah mumbled in greeting. Then he tried to walk past her into the house. She stopped him with a gentle hand to his shoulder.

  He sighed heavily. “I just wasn’t feeling good, okay?”

  “You didn’t call me,” she said in the most neutral voice she could manage.

  He shrugged, jerking his shoulder out from under her hand. “I knew you had your meeting or whatever. I didn’t want to bug you. And you told me to call anybody at Mile High if I ever had an emergency.”

  “What about your aunt?”

  “Couldn’t get a hold of her,” Micah mumbled, but his gaze slid away, and she knew he was lying.

  “Go inside. We’ll talk about this more in a minute.”

  “There isn’t anything to talk about,” Micah insisted, his expression going quietly mutinous.

  “Inside,” Cora said firmly without letting any of her simmering frustration show through.

  Micah complained under his breath and stomped inside. Cora tried to smile at Will. “Thank you for bringing him home. I appreciate it.”

  “You know it’s no problem. Look, the kid’s got something going on, and it isn’t not feeling well.”

  “Do you have any idea what it is?”

  “No. I tried to get it out of him, but . . .” Will shrugged apologetically. “I deal with tight-lipped, don’t-want-to-talk-about-it people on the regular.” He snuck a little glance at Tori, who glared at him. “Kid’s a rock.”

  “Yes.” One Cora wanted to beat her head against. “Well, thanks, guys. I better go talk to him.”

  “Good luck,” Tori offered with a smile.

  “Thanks.”

  “Wine if you need it later.”

  On impulse, Cora pulled Tori into a hug. “Thank you.”

  “You know I hate it when you hug me,” Tori said as she awkwardly patted Cora’s back.

  “I know,” Cora replied, smiling as she pulled away. “That’s half the fun of it.” It bolstered her, this having friends who would step in and help, who’d offer wine and let her hug them even when they hated it.

  She murmured her good-byes and stepped into the house. She already heard the beeps and irritating music of a video game. She stepped into the kitchen to gather her thoughts and roll her eyes. Hard.

  She hated the video games Micah lost himself in, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to take them away. There’d always been basketball to balance it out.

  She marched over to where Micah was slumped into the couch, face so close to the screen of his handheld system she wanted to snap at him to pull it away. But she didn’t.

  “Is it the other kids?”

  “Is what the other kids?”

  Since she knew he wouldn’t dare look away from his precious game, she allowed herself to make a face at him.

  “Why you don’t want to do camp?” she asked, adopting a pleasant and curious tone, instead of the accusatory one that wanted to slip out.

  He shrugged. “The other kids are fine.”

  “The coaches then?”

  “They’re okay.”

  “So,” she said, breathing through the frustration, “what’s the problem?”

  He shrugged again as if it were the only language he had.

  “Micah, I need a reason.”

  “It’s dumb.”

  “You asked me to go to this.”

  “Yeah, because you said I had to do something this summer.” He infuriatingly kept playing the game, not once looking at her as his fingers flew over the buttons. “All my friends get to hang out
at home. They get to sleep in and chill out, and I have to go to stupid camp and sweat and shit.”

  “Did you just say shit to me, young man?”

  Micah rolled his eyes, all disdain and teenage sullenness, and it wasn’t fair since he was only twelve. She was supposed to have a few more years before this.

  “Whatever, Mom.” He slid off the couch, his eyes never leaving the screen of his game. He started walking for the stairs.

  Because she wanted to yell and demand, she let him go. She’d cool off first, then try again. Not a failure, just a regrouping. Giving him space, keeping the line of communication open, no yelling that might shut him down.

  He was going to his next appointment with Dr. Grove no matter how much of a fuss he put up, that was for damn sure.

  And she . . . She was definitely going to need that glass of wine.

  * * *

  Shane dried his hands on the towel in the bathroom and hesitated before heading out.

  Mom had called a family dinner. Which she usually only did when she wanted to make some horrible announcement. Especially given that she’d summoned Lindsay home from school in Denver. The only person who would be missing was Boone, who was off rodeoing here, there, and everywhere, and was usually missing.

  But worse than missing his youngest brother, or impending doom-filled announcements, was the fact that “family” dinners now included Ben Donahue.

  Shane scowled at the door. He had to get it out now, because, while he was no less adamant about making sure his mother did not go through with this wedding, he knew he couldn’t keep sniping with Ben.

  Shane had to find some well of calm politeness. Arguing would only make his mother dig her heels in deeper, and Ben as well. Shane had to adopt an act of friendliness, and he was pretty sure it would kill him.

  But he’d give it his best shot. When he stepped out of the bathroom, Gavin was standing there, leaning against the hallway wall.