by Nicole Helm
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.
“Your grandmother collects swords?” Cora said, because maybe if she repeated it, she could wrap her head around it.
“Yes. She has one that dates back all the way to the French and Indian War. She’s quite proud of it,” Shane said seriously.
Cora shook her head, and Shane grinned. She couldn’t help but smile back. He had a handsome smile, with a warmth to it that made her heart give one slow, delicious flip. She thought back to when they’d walked in and she’d caught him checking out her ass.
She’d never been with a good, decent man before. There were a lot of reasons for that, mostly her own insecurities and issues, but there was also this odd assumption that good and decent had to be boring.
The things Shane sparked in her chest were hardly boring, and just because someone was good and decent didn’t mean he couldn’t be a little bad....
Cora jumped a little when someone cleared his throat. Her cheeks heated when she realized Ben was still sitting at the table.
“Guess I’ll go get the fixings and take them outside,” Ben announced, making it somehow sound like a challenge.
All that smiling warmth from Shane had faded, but there wasn’t some of the tension and anger she usually saw in him at just the mention of Ben. There was almost a thoughtfulness in his expression. “That’ll be fine, Ben,” he said.
Which was clearly not the reaction Ben expected, since he blinked at Shane and frowned. Still, instead of explaining himself or anything else, Ben simply stood from the table and walked stiffly into the kitchen.
Leaving Shane and her alone in the dining room. Not alone alone, because she could hear the sounds of Deb and Molly and Ben in the kitchen.
“Let’s take a little walk.”
She nodded, knowing what he really meant. Let’s go spy. If it hadn’t been for this morning and seeing Deb cry, and Cora’s overlong conversation with the lawyer about what they could do to further protect themselves from Stephen, she might have felt a little bad about the idea of spying on Ben.
But she was churned up, and the idea of stepping in and protecting people felt like something she could do. If she could stop Deb from facing even a modicum of the unhappiness Cora’d had with Stephen, she would gladly do some spying.
Shane led Cora out the front door and into the early twilight. The warm summer air smelled like sunlight and something flowery, likely Deb’s garden. Then there was always that faint hint of manure on the breeze. It was oddly appealing as a mixture.
He led them across the yard, but instead of a right toward the stables, he took a left. A part of the ranch she hadn’t seen much of. But his steps were slow and easy, and the silence was comfortable.
Still, Cora wasn’t one to revel in a lot of silence. “Micah was good?”
“Micah was great,” Shane said without hesitation. “He’s got a good understanding that if he does the chores well, he earns more time with the horses, and he takes that seriously. A few more weeks, we’ll be able to give him some unsupervised chores. If he wants. If you want.”
Cora took a deep breath. She’d been accepting help Micah’s whole life, because she hadn’t been in the kind of place to help her child. Now she could, and there was a selfish part of her that wanted to do it alone for once. No help from Lilly, no help from a handsome man she one hundred percent had the biggest crush on.
But that was selfish, and she wanted Micah to have everything. She’d never be able to give him a horse, but she could give him this access. She could take Shane up on his generous offer, especially since it was generous. And Micah would be working to earn something.
“As long as it’s what Micah wants, it’s what I want.”
Shane nodded. He pointed ahead to a large building Cora hadn’t seen before since it was tucked away behind the barns and stables and a cluster of trees that must have been planted a while ago. “This is the bunkhouse. We have a variety of men who work for us. Some seasonal. Ben’s got his own cabin over there. Typically it’d be the foreman’s, but . . .” Shane shook his head. “It’s things like this. I don’t want to hate Ben, but he conned Mom into letting him live there when he should be in the bunk like the other men.”
“Do you have a key? I don’t know if breaking and entering is our best bet for snooping.”
Shane took a deep breath, staring hard at the cabin they were slowly walking toward. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” he muttered.
“It was your idea.”
“I know but . . . between some things Molly said to me, and some things I said to Micah, I’m starting to think I’ve gone about this all wrong.”
She was going to give him a bit of a good-natured hard time about being a goody-two-shoes, afraid of doing something wrong in order to do something right, but he’d said some things to her son.
What did that mean?
Cora stopped in her tracks, and Shane stopped with her, looking at her questioningly. Cora took a deep breath so she didn’t overreact.
“What did you say to Micah?” she asked, trying to sound curious instead of demanding. Interested instead of panicked.
“Boone was telling him stupid bullshit stories about the rodeo, about fighting, and I told him to ignore it. That trouble wasn’t worth it.”
“Oh.” Stupid of her to be worried. To be panicked. Of course Shane had a good head on his shoulders. He didn’t even want to spy on a man he hated and thought was going to hurt his mother.
“Do you think he was being bullied at that camp? Or maybe at school?”
Cora’s en
tire body went cold. A dead, awful cold she’d experienced so many times in her life. Usually at the hands of Stephen, when he used that subtly furious tone of voice, and she’d known . . . she’d always known . . .
“What do you mean?” she whispered.
“I told him violence wasn’t a good answer most of the time, and he asked why not. What else could you do. So, I just wondered if maybe someone was bothering him.”
Cora blinked back the unexpected tears. Yes, her son was being bothered, bullied, and all by his own father.
“I’m sorry. I’m upsetting you.” Shane stepped closer, reached out, and touched her shoulder. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
She looked up at him, at his warm, concerned brown eyes. Regret and just goodness shining in them. “How did you answer?” she managed to ask.
“I told him what my father told me when I was a kid. Actions have consequences, positive and negative, and it’s always best to work toward a positive consequence, because violence leaves a mark no matter what.”
She could only stare for a few minutes. At this beautiful man with the perfect words. Violence leaves a mark no matter what. Yes. It did. Stephen had only physically hurt Micah once, but she knew the violence Stephen had used on her had left a mark on Micah. One she couldn’t fix or erase.
She swallowed at the lump in her throat.
“I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.”
“I know.” Shane would never hurt people just to exert control. Shane would never manipulate or undermine. He wouldn’t tell her she was weak or stupid or that it was all her fault.
Violence leaves a mark no matter what.
She was tired of the mark it had left on her. She’d never get rid of it, but for a moment, just a few moments, she wanted to forget. So, she moved up onto her toes and pressed her mouth to the corner of his.
* * *
Perhaps another man would have been strong enough to allow that kiss to be a friendly brush of lips. But there was so much more than friendly pulsing through him when Cora’s lips touched the corner of his.
Because his mind blanked, there was nothing to do but slide the hand on her shoulder over and onto her back, pulling her closer to him, adjusting their mouths so they really touched, so his head bent to meet hers, so he could kiss her like he’d been trying not to dream of doing for days.
She melted into him, easy and pliant, but the oddest thing was he felt a little like he’d melted too. Into her, into the kiss. He wanted his hands in her hair, his skin on her bare skin, and yet some part of him was content with this kiss in fresh air as the sun fell around them.
Her arms slid around his neck, drawing him closer, as if his arms banded around her weren’t bringing them close enough. He forgot about pretty much everything. All the concerns and confusions and worries of the day melted into pleasure, into Cora.
He was content to learn the taste of her—sweet and bright—with a light brush of tongues. He wanted to exist here where the softness of her skin, of her body pressed to his uncompromising one felt like a new kind of heaven he’d never experienced.
There was a well of want inside of him that no amount of pressure or closeness could seem to fill. It only seemed to go deeper and deeper, like the kiss itself.
Where does wanting ever lead?
It was a thought he wished he could ignore, but there was too much going on right now to remind him of all he’d lost over a simple thing like want. So, he eased away, though his body protested, though Cora’s body moved with him, leaning into him, and he was a man who would always hold a leaning woman up.
Especially her.
Her eyes fluttered open. Her lips curved into a smile he wanted to kiss until smiling was the only thing either of them ever did.
But that was a fantasy, and this was real life.
She sighed dreamily though, eventually putting her weight on her own feet instead of against his body. “Well, I knew it would be good. I’m not sure I knew it would be that good.” Her hands slid off his shoulders, and he had to all but force himself to release her.
He realized his hat had fallen off somewhere in the interaction. Using that as an excuse to collect himself, he bent down and picked it up, hitting it over his knee to knock off the dirt. That good. Yeah, that was for sure.
But he had to control that good. Keep it at a manageable level. Not let want overtake reason. That being said, it didn’t mean it couldn’t happen again....
And again . . .
He cleared his throat. “Not that I’m complaining, because, believe me, I am very much not. Why did this conversation prompt a kiss?”
She stared up at him, that hint of tears and vulnerability he’d seen there before the kiss hidden under something else, something he couldn’t put into words. All of it was still there, but she’d rearranged it so something like strength was the predominant mask she showed.
He had a sinking suspicion it was a mask.
“Well, I guess it’s wrapped up in the fact that I haven’t had a lot of good, nice men in my life.” She let out a huff of breath. “I didn’t think they existed until about a year ago. My sister started working for Mile High Adventures last spring, and the guys there are all really good, solid guys. They’ve always been so kind and encouraging with Micah. I know he looks up to them, and that’s been so important. But they’re not like you. You’re really good at making people feel like . . . I don’t know how to explain it. I just know those were the words Micah needed to hear. And he would’ve never listened to them from me.”
“Cora . . .”
“The point of all that is I’m really glad you could give him that, and so that’s why I kissed you. You helped when you didn’t have to. I know you did it because you thought it was the right thing to do, because you, your whole family, they just step in and help. And care. Plus, you’re really hot, especially in a cowboy hat.”
Shane managed to laugh. “I’m glad I could say something he needed to hear.”
“And I know you mean that.” Cora looked behind him, at the pastel sunset streaking across the sky, clearly thinking something through. “But I shouldn’t have kissed you. I’m sorry.”
“Cora, like I said, I wasn’t complaining. There’s nothing about the kiss you need to apologize for.”
“Except that’s the kind of kiss that leads to other kisses, and I’m not sure . . .” She chewed on her bottom lip as she moved her gaze back to him. “I’m not sure I’m in a place to do this. Because you are nice and good, and I’m still kind of figuring out how to be all that.”
“So it’s that resolution thing again?”
“Kind of. And it’s about me, not you. You’re great.”
“Someone hurt you,” he said gently.
Her expression shuttered and blanked. Shane wondered if part of this wasn’t just the fact that she didn’t want to go into that. The hurt. The scars whatever happened must have left. He knew he had his own that he wouldn’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole, especially with someone he liked.
“What are we going to do about Ben?” she said resolutely.
He could’ve refused the change of subject, but he wasn’t about to push her any more than he would’ve pushed her little boy this morning when they’d talked about violence. “Molly suggested I ask Mom to do a prenup. That way, even if Ben is trouble, the ranch will be safe. If things went sour, Mom would still have the ranch. Her pride.”
“How could her pride be intact if she got treated that way by someone she loves?” Cora asked, all that emotion swirling in her eyes.
“That’s where I’m stuck. I’m starting to wonder if it would even make a difference. If I found evidence he was a murderer, would it change a damn thing? For whatever reason, she loves him. I don’t know how to fight that. It’s all been running around in my head. Talking with Micah about violence and the marks it leaves. Talking with Molly about the way our family is. Nothing is working, so we have to change our approach.”
“How?”
/> “Honesty.” He’d been on the fence before, but kissing Cora, talking to Cora about how good he was, and just the honest way she’d talked about not being ready . . . It was the answer. It had to be. “I knew Ben was a liar almost from the start, and I never gave him a chance to be anything but that. Maybe instead of fighting him and Mom, I need to talk to them. Openly. About my concerns and what we all can do to move forward together. As a team.”
Something moved over her expression. One of those unreadable feelings he wished he could label and fix for her.
“I wasn’t going to tell you this, because I thought it would just make you angry, but maybe . . . maybe you’re absolutely right. This morning your mom was upset. Crying. She’d had a fight with Ben and—”
“What did the thieving, lying, scheming piece of shit do to her?” Shane demanded, white-hot fury sparking through him.
Cora smiled indulgently. She reached out and placed her hand against his chest. They both looked at it for a second. He felt her move as if she were going to take it away, but when he gently placed his own hand over it, she stilled and smiled up at him.
“I like that you’re a good, protective son. It speaks to so much about you and your mother. They fought over Boone. She didn’t give details, and I didn’t press. Maybe I should have. Maybe I should’ve asked her what was wrong and said things related to her. Maybe instead of holding back because I was afraid of opening up to my crap, I should have connected to it and . . .”
He rubbed his hand over hers, and she stepped a little closer, the smell of her perfume infiltrating the smell of summer and ranch.
“I don’t know what happened between them. It could’ve been a simple argument. God knows I’ve seen my sister and her husband argue a million times over. But they love each other wholeheartedly, and they’d do anything for each other. It could be just a fight that people have because people have fights, but if I hadn’t been too afraid of giving something of myself, maybe I would’ve found out.”