A Nice Day for a Cowboy Wedding

by Nicole Helm

  But as Shane watched, Cora didn’t get into her car. She started across the yard, walking straight for them.

  “What’s she coming over here for?” Gavin demanded.

  “How would I know?” But she’d come to talk to him after her last meeting with Mom. “She told me last time Mom wants . . .” Well, he didn’t need to be specific. “Wants us involved.”

  Gavin snorted. “And you told her to go to hell, right?”

  “Politely, yes.”

  “I’m done being polite.”

  “When did you start?” Shane asked good-naturedly, but any levity he felt at razzing his brother died as Cora crossed the drive and was now marching toward them over the grass around the barn.

  She wasn’t hard to look at. She wore a dress with unfurling pink flowers all over it that swished a little too enticingly along her legs as she moved at a steady clip. Her long reddish-blondish hair was swirling around her face as the gentle breeze played with it. She had dark blue eyes and a heart-shaped face, and Shane was more than a little irritated at himself for being attracted to her.

  Didn’t matter. They were at cross-purposes right now. Besides, delicate pretty was not his type. Mostly.

  “Hello,” she greeted once she approached. She was a hint out of breath, and her cheeks were slightly flushed. There was something different about her today. She wasn’t really smiling. Not scowling either. Some firm, in-between expression Shane couldn’t read and didn’t trust.

  “’Lo,” Gavin returned suspiciously.

  Shane nodded at her. He’d like to be curt, but it wouldn’t be fair, so he smiled politely. “Good afternoon,” he offered.

  “I’ve just come from a meeting with your mother. If all goes according to plan, we’ll have the wedding here at the end of September.”

  Shane couldn’t help himself. He had to disabuse her of that notion right quick. “And if all goes according to our plan, we won’t have a wedding at all.”

  She frowned, a little line appearing in the middle of her forehead and across the bridge of her nose. “What’s your plan?”

  Shane exchanged a look with his brother. They didn’t exactly have a plan yet, but they would.

  Cora chuckled. “Oh, good, I thought for a second you had some horrible idea to sabotage your mother’s wedding and that my first impression of you had been all wrong.” She smiled at both of them, all dazzling positivity. “Whatever differences are between you and the groom-to-be, we can work those out. Can’t we?”

  “No,” Shane and Gavin said in unison.

  Her smile died. “I was afraid you’d say that,” she muttered.

  “Look, I got somewhere to be,” Gavin said. He turned to Shane and explained under his breath, “A few things to do for Lou’s barn. Be back after lunch.”

  “Yeah. She doing okay?”

  “Okay.” Gavin tipped his hat at Cora, then cringed a little bit as if he was irritated with his own ingrained manners.

  Even though Gavin left, the wedding planner didn’t. Shane struggled between the urge to shoo her off and the urge to at least try and sway her to their point of view about this ridiculous wedding.

  But she spoke first.

  “Are you busy tonight?”

  His jaw dropped. She wasn’t actually . . .

  “Oh, I’m not asking you out,” she said, leaning forward and touching his arm, something like a quick poke. She laughed a little too hard at the idea, but then her gaze traveled the length of him and back up again, before she flashed him a flirtatious smile. If he had been less of a man, he might have blushed.

  “I know you love your mother. I can tell, and she’s infinitely worthy of that devotion. I can tell that too. I just want to try and prove to you that you’ve got it all wrong about Ben.”

  “How would you know?”

  She opened her mouth and then closed it. She seemed to ponder something for a moment and then shook her head. “Do you know where the VFW Hall in Benson is?”

  He did not trust this at all, but he nodded in assent.

  “Meet me there at eight tonight.”

  “I thought you weren’t asking me out on a date,” he returned.

  She grinned at him, a dimple winking in her cheek. Why he wanted to grin back was beyond him. Probably just because she was pretty. Who didn’t want to smile at a pretty woman?

  “I’m not.” Again her eyes took a little tour of his body, and he damn well had to fight the urge to fidget.

  Seriously. Who was this woman?

  “Bring your dancing shoes, though.”

  “My what?”

  But she’d turned away at that, waving over her shoulder as she walked back to her car. Shane scowled after her.

  He was not going to meet her or go dancing or whatever-on-earth crazy scheme she was up to. He was going to stay home like he always did, have dinner with his family, and then go over ranch paperwork while Grandma polished her sword collection.

  Definitely not going to Benson. Definitely not meeting the wedding planner.

  Probably not anyway.

  Chapter Four

  It was difficult picking out what to wear when you weren’t going out on a date, but you also wouldn’t mind a guy looking at you twice, but you were also employed by his mother and trying to convince him her wedding was legit.

  Life was full of complications.

  In the end, Cora had decided to wear the same cute floral dress she’d been wearing all day, but exchanged her flats for cowboy boots she was ninety-nine percent sure no cowboy would ever be caught dead in.

  She wondered absently if Shane knew how to square dance. He didn’t seem like the type, but when Deb had mentioned that she and Ben belonged to a local square dancing club, Cora had been surprised. Deb didn’t seem like the type either, but Deb’s face had just lit up when she’d talked about it.

  So, Cora had devised her plan right then and there. She needed to prove to the Tyler children that Ben was worthy of their mother. She would start with Shane because he was the oldest and so clearly the de facto leader.

  It had nothing to do with the fact that he was hot. Especially with the boots and the cowboy hat and that stoic politeness he always employed.

  Okay, it had something to do with that. What could she say? She liked men. A lot. It was her great downfall that she liked going on dates, flirting, and all that dazzling anticipation. And sex. Oh, she really liked sex.

  She’d sworn it off in her grand effort to get her life together, to focus on her career and on being a mom. Much as she liked them, men were far too much trouble. One preteen was all the trouble she could handle.

  But surely that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy a little harmless flirting here and there.

  Micah was going to hang out at Will and Tori’s under the guise of walking their German shepherd, Sarge, and doing a few other jobs around their place to earn some extra money, and then they were going to ply him with pizza and ice cream till she got back.

  She thought absently of how nice it would be to have a dog of their own, except she couldn’t afford the time or the money or the investment in another living creature. Maybe when Micah was a little older and could really be counted on to be responsible.

  She shook her head and grabbed her purse. Tonight, she had to focus on work. Tomorrow would be about regrouping and trying to get through to Micah, since Dr. Grove always suggested giving him some space between a session and then trying to talk with him about the takeaways.

  She stepped outside into the slowly falling evening. The houses around them had started to fill up after its being a nearly empty street when she’d originally moved here with Lilly. Brandon’s starting a chamber of commerce dedicated to drawing business owners and customers to Gracely proper was starting to have an effect.

  There was a pizza parlor now, and the man who ran it lived across the street. A young couple who were teachers in Benson had bought a house a few doors down to live in the more “quaint and picturesque” Gracely. It was things
like that that would bring Gracely back from the brink of a ghost town.

  Cora had to believe it was possible. Her brother-in-law believed it was possible because he’d grown up here and had seen the town at its best, and because he felt responsible for its worst. But Cora had to believe because she’d once lived her life like little more than a ghost town herself, and she wanted to believe she could rebuild and be whole and vibrant.

  And that was what spurred her on. Even though trying to convince the Tyler siblings to support their mother’s wedding wasn’t her job, it felt like something she had to do. It felt like being someone she wanted to be.

  She drove through town, then over ranch land-adjacent highway to the much larger town of Benson. She turned into the VFW Hall parking lot and immediately saw Shane. He leaned against the bed of a gleaming red truck, cowboy hat pulled low as it always seemed to be, while the sun set behind him in a riot of colors painting the mountains like watercolors.

  There were no empty parking spots next to him, so she pulled past and then into the first empty one. She wasn’t surprised Shane was here. He didn’t strike her as the kind of man who could resist showing up, especially in an attempt to prove a point. She was a little surprised he’d beaten her here.

  And not at all surprised by the sparking anticipation beating like butterflies low in her stomach. If hot men were her weakness, she was pretty sure hot cowboys would be her downfall.

  She gave herself a hasty glance in the rearview mirror, caught herself grinning. “Business only,” she said sternly into the mirror. “No flirting. Tonight is all about his mother. No. Flirting.”

  She jumped a foot when someone tapped on her window. She hadn’t realized he’d seen her, considering he’d had that hat down so low, but Shane was standing there, a puzzled frown on his face.

  She grabbed her purse, fixed her most businesslike smile on her face, and nudged the driver’s side door open.

  “I’m sorry, were you on the phone or something?”

  “No.” She could’ve lied, but maybe the best thing for her would be to act completely herself. She wouldn’t want to flirt with a guy who knew she was a little screwy, and she couldn’t want to flirt with Shane, so she’d just go for the bald truth. She stood and closed the door, offering him an arch look. “I talk to myself. Doesn’t everyone?”

  She sailed past him, not paying attention to the way the flannel shirt he was wearing stretched across broad shoulders or to that mysterious shadow the ever-present cowboy hat gave his face.

  Mysterious hot cowboy might be even more of a weakness, but she was stronger than all that. She would be.

  “So, what exactly did you want to show me at the VFW Hall?” He glanced around the parking lot as people moved past them, most of them dressed in pressed plaid and poofy skirts. There was even a guy with matching pants and a vest patterned with horses.

  “Follow me,” Cora replied, and she was a little too pleased when he did so instead of questioning her further.

  She went through the front doors and followed the throng of people, mostly older, though there were a few more middle-aged couples, and one or two young couples more her and Shane’s age.

  She snuck a look at him. He’d slipped his hat off on entering the building, and his face was a maze of clear confusion. He had no idea his mother was in a square dancing club. She wondered if Deb kept it from him, or if he just didn’t pay attention.

  Much as Cora believed he was the dutiful son Deb described, Cora had a feeling Shane also didn’t pry too deeply into his mother’s personal life—aside from passing judgment on her choice of partners of course.

  There was a reception area of sorts, but the crowd ambled through a door down the hall, so Cora did too, Shane at her heels. Then she found a corner for them to hide in.

  “I’m not sure what watching people square-dance is supposed to prove.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “Patience.”

  “I don’t even know why I came,” he grumbled.

  “I assume because my charm is irresistible,” Cora returned. She grinned up at him, only remembering she wasn’t supposed to flirt when his gaze dropped to her mouth.

  Crap.

  She whipped her head back toward the crowd, searching the small sea of faces for Deb. She finally found the sturdy brunette over in the corner, a handsome man with his arms slung across her shoulders. That must be Ben. Cora could certainly see the attraction.

  Cora pointed. “I want you to watch them and then tell me you really think Ben is such an awful guy.”

  She could all but feel the man standing next to her stiffen. When she glanced over at him, his jaw was tight, his dark eyes flat. He didn’t appear angry, and yet she thought for a second she’d seen a flash of something close.

  But he smoothed it away so tense stoicism was the only thing on his face, with the slightest hint of disapproval.

  But Cora knew, she knew, what the Tyler siblings needed to see was their mother as a woman, as a person, not just a dutiful matriarch of a complex family.

  So Shane was darn well going to watch his mother square-dance with her fiancé, and then he’d have to see.

  * * *

  His mother was dressed in the most ridiculous getup he’d ever seen. Her skirt had ruffles on it. Ruffles. His mother, who only wore dresses to funerals, was in some flouncy getup, wearing makeup.

  Makeup. Bright red lipstick and sparkly shit on her face. His mother. Ben stood next to her, grinning like the tool that he was, and Shane thought Ben must know they both looked like utter fools.

  Someone came onto the stage, talking into a microphone about something Shane didn’t understand, but people filed onto the dance floor, a riot of colors and ruffles and too colorful cowboy boots.

  “What am I supposed to see? My mother act like . . .” He couldn’t say the words he was thinking. Partially because he was pretty sure his mother would hear him no matter how softly he uttered it and all but fly across the room to smack him upside the head.

  Partially, though, because his mother wasn’t a fool. No matter how much Shane didn’t understand this version of his mother, smiling and laughing with Ben and another couple as they stepped and twirled and moved about a small square of space on the floor, he also couldn’t quite bring the judgmental hammer down on it, so to speak.

  “She’s happy, and she’s having fun,” Cora said, her voice soothing some of these uncomfortable edges inside of him. “I know you want that for her.”

  He glanced down, the crown of Cora’s head only just coming up to his nose. A riot of reddish curls that made no more sense to him than the woman who’d given birth to him square dancing.

  Shane sighed heavily. “How do you know I want that?”

  Blue eyes met his, something like consideration on her face. Her mouth curved, but he noted the dimple that had appeared in her cheek yesterday didn’t with this smaller, softer smile.

  “You know, yesterday your mom told me you hadn’t given her an ounce of trouble since you were twelve.”

  Shane stiffened. Couldn’t help it. Because twelve had been a grave turning point in his life, and he’d been very sure not to be trouble, just like he was almost certain his brother Boone had determined to be nothing but.

  He could feel Cora’s curious stare and wished he was better at hiding the way tension had crept into his body, the way everything about the age of twelve still stuck to him like flypaper.

  “Did something happen when you were twelve?” she asked.

  “Maybe I just decided my hellion days were behind me,” he said, his voice sounding strained even in the midst of music and revelry.

  “In my experience, twelve is when hellion is just beginning.”

  “You have a lot of experience with twelve-year-olds?” he asked gruffly, hoping this conversation would go anywhere else.

  “Not a lot, though mine’s almost thirteen, so certainly enough.”

  That jolted him enough to knock some of the tension out of him. He did
n’t think Cora was a day over twenty-five. “You can’t have a twelve-year-old.” He could barely picture her as a mother, let alone one of an almost teenager.

  “Afraid so.”

  He opened his mouth to ask how old she was, then clamped it shut. None of his business and rude besides, but he couldn’t help studying her out of the corner of his eye.

  “Oh, just ask,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “Ask what?”

  She grinned up at him then, that dimple winking to life. “I know what you want to ask. I’ve been down this road a few times in my life.”

  “What road?” he asked as innocently as he could manage.

  She shrugged, still grinning, though her gaze went back out to Mom and Ben on the dance floor. “You never know the answers to the questions you won’t ask.”

  “Guess I’ll never know then,” he replied.

  “Suit yourself.”

  He clamped his mouth shut. He wouldn’t be tricked into asking a sensitive question. It wouldn’t be polite.

  She had an almost-thirteen-year-old. This pretty little thing, smiling at his mother dancing some ridiculous dance with a man who would do nothing but ruin everything.

  His mother was smiling, happily flushed, clearly having a hell of a time, and Shane felt conflicted for the first time. Because Cora was right, he did want his mother’s happiness. He just knew this wasn’t it.

  “Maybe she is happy,” Shane offered as concession. He’d been happy himself once upon a time, and what had happened? “Maybe she wants nothing more in this life than to marry Ben Donahue, but I can’t let her do that when I am certain that man is nothing but trouble. I won’t . . .” He didn’t feel right bringing Molly up, how he’d failed that particular time. Not totally his fault since Molly was stubborn as a mule, but this time . . .

  He couldn’t let it happen to Mom. Because she might not be able to bounce back. She’d loved and lost Dad. What would being embarrassed do to her?

  “I have to protect my family.”