Page 47 of The Cowboy's Best Friend

“Believe you me,” Zeke said when the laughter receded a little bit, “my marriage is so honest it hurts. Don’t you worry about me on that score.”

“You’re just happy to lie to your kids, is that it?”

Zeke walked over, as if he couldn’t see that Boone was vibrating with tension and clapped him on the shoulder.

“I told you Santa Claus was real too,” the old man said, his eyes gleaming. “I think you’ll survive.”

And then he ambled on out of his shop, actually whistling under his breath.

While Boone stood there for far too long, trying to piece together what had just happened.

And why he felt like he’d just been laid out flat.

Chapter Eleven

It was themiddle of August before Sierra finally went back to her parents’ house for their usual monthly dinner.

She had claimed that she was too busy working both July 1 and August 1—not a lie, really—but her mother’s messages were relentless. And Sierra knew that Mary Catherine was only going to keep escalating until she got what she wanted.

So on a hot Friday night, instead of going on one of the dates that Boone still insisted upon—and that Sierra still found unfathomably delightful—she drove down to her sterile and unwelcoming childhood home with her parents instead.

It didn’t feel like a fair trade.

She thought about inviting Boone to come with her, but common sense prevailed. They would no doubt feel the need to vent their spleen and there was no need for Boone to witness that. He’d been the target of entirely too many snide comments from them over the years as it was.

Instead, they agreed to meet at Grey’s Saloon later down in the middle of historic Marietta, and Sierra figured that was a good enough carrot to get her through the slog of a dinner that waited for her.

She also realized, halfway down Copper Mountain, that she hadn’t dressed for her mother’s approval. The realization felt like a seismic shift. She’d been running around her apartment, throwing things together with only moments to spare because Boone had made her late. And he had continued to kiss her silly—until she was actually laughing at him as she climbed in her Jeep.

You’re going make me too dizzy to drive, she’d told him.

Baby, he’d replied.That’s the idea.

She’d been grinning about that, and just dizzy enough, right up until the moment she’d realized she was dressed in a manner her mother was absolutely not going to care for.

Not that it was outrageous. Jeans, nice shoes, a cute top. Perfectly fine for a Friday night.

But she knew perfectly well what her mother expected.

Sierra wished that she could have felt nothing but a calm sense of purpose and pride, but as she pulled up in front of the gleaming old Victorian she felt a lot more nerves than anything else. There was a part of her that would always want to live up to her mother’s demands. Maybe that was normal.

“But that doesn’t mean you have to actuallydoit,” she reminded herself firmly.

When she got out of the Jeep she walked up the front door and let herself in. No doorbell. No waiting on the porch like a traveling salesman.

Maybe it wasn’t much, but it felt like a revolution.

When she came upon her parents, already sitting in the study, they both looked at her as if she’d coming crashing in through the nearest window.

“I let myself in,” she said breezily as she went and sat down in her usual seat. “No need to make a fuss.”

For a moment, everything was silent. She had managed to shock them into speechlessness, and she was determined to enjoy it. Because it wouldn’t last long. Sierra was fully aware that explosion was coming.

“What on earth has gotten into you?” Mary Catherine asked, right on schedule. She soundedappalled. When Sierra only smiled, her mother drew herself up, looking as if she was trembling with outrage. Literallytrembling. “First, to run out on poor Matty like that. Without so much as a backward glance. Then to up and quit your job and move to the back of beyond. I’ll be honest with you, Sierra. Your father and I have been discussing whether or not you’re having some kind of mental health crisis.”

“I was,” Sierra said, and suddenly it was easy to sound calm. Because she actually felt remarkably calm. Particularly when it came to this topic. “I was married to a cheater for ten years. Not a great mental health space to be in, I’m sure we can all agree. But I’m all better now.”

“That’s hardly something you can complain about, is it?” Her mother retorted, crisply. “Given the way you’ve been carrying on with that Boone Carey.”

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