Chapter Nine
Marina
I kneel in front of Ryder and straighten the little knot of his tie as he squirms.
“Hold still.”
“I am holding still,” he says.
I raise an eyebrow. “You’re wiggling.”
He giggles.
He looks so grown up. His white shirt is crisp beneath a black paisley-patterned vest. Dark jeans disappear into his black cowboy boots, and his pale blond hair falls just past his chin.
The large cream-colored cowboy hat sitting on his head is almost comical, but somehow, he makes it work.
I tuck his little tie neatly beneath the collar. “There you go.”
He turns toward the mirror in the corner of the room, and I smooth one hand down his back as he grins at his reflection.
“Perfect,” I whisper in his ear.
He looks down at himself. “Do I look like a cowboy?”
“Sure do. And I bet you’re gonna be the handsomest cowboy at the whole wedding.”
His face lights up. “Even handsomer than Mr. Bryce?”
I pretend to think about it. “Well … almost. We shouldn’t outshine the groom. It’s his big day.”
He nods, apparently satisfied.
I rise and glance in the mirror above him as I put on my earrings.
For a moment, I barely recognize myself.
The soft sage-green dress falls all the way to the floor, the pleated fabric moving like water when I shift.
The fitted bodice gathers beneath my bust before loosening into a flowing skirt, and the neckline is low without exposing too much.
Layered necklaces rest against my chest, and my brown cowboy boots peek out from beneath the hem.
I haven’t had an occasion to wear something so feminine in a long time. It feels good to dress up.
I glance at Ryder through the mirror. “Okay, one more thing.”
He looks up.
“What’s the most important rule today?”
His little brow furrows. “We have to be good.”
“That’s right.” I crouch in front of him again. “When the ceremony starts, we have to be very, very quiet.”
He puts a finger to his lips.
“Exactly like that.” I smile. “We have to sit real still and listen to the preacher. No talking. No standing. No climbing under the chairs.”
“Okay, Mommy.”
“And if you’re very good and behave, we get to go to the big party afterward.”
His eyes widen. “A party?”
I nod. “Yep. A party. With cake and music and dancing.”
“Dancing? With the pretty girls?”
I laugh. “With the pretty girls.”
He thinks about this very seriously. “I promise I’ll behave.”
“Good,” I say as I hold out my hands. “Come here.”
He wraps his arms around my neck, and I hug him close.
My eyes close for a second.
He still smells like the little boy he is—shampoo and soap and that sweet, warm scent that belongs only to him.
“My handsome cowboy,” I whisper.
He squeezes my neck. “I love you, Mommy.”
“I love you too. Thanks for being my date.” When I finally pull back, I reach for his hand. “Okay. Come on.”
He follows me toward the door, his little boots making soft thuds against the floor.
We head downstairs, and I can already hear voices drifting through the house.
Then laughter and the faint clink of glass.
Ryder’s head snaps toward the sound. “Grandma Evelyn!”
“Ryder—”
He slips his hand from mine.
“Ryder!”
He’s gone.
I hurry after him, trying not to trip over the hem of my dress as his little boots pound down the hallway. “Come back here!”
He disappears around the corner.
I catch up just as he bursts through the doorway.
“Grandma Evelyn!”
I stop in the doorway, slightly breathless. “Oh my goodness. I’m sorry.”
Evelyn turns, and her face immediately brightens. “Oh my, look at you!” she gasps as Ryder runs straight to her.
She bends to scoop him into her arms, and he wraps himself around her waist.
Evelyn looks beautiful in a champagne-colored dress, her silver hair swept into an elegant chignon at the back of her head.
“You look so dapper,” she tells him.
“What’s dapper?”
The women around the room laugh.
“It means you’re one good-lookin’ cowboy,” Shelby says.
“Yep,” he says, his hat falling into his eyes as he nods.
I shake my head. “Sorry. I told him we had to be quiet.”
Charli waves me off. “Don’t worry about it.”
She’s seated in front of a large mirror while a brunette I don’t recognize works a curling iron through her hair. Charli’s in a white silk robe, as are the other women. Champagne flutes and empty bottles are scattered about the room.
Judging by the giggles and flushed cheeks, they’ve been enjoying them for a while.
Charli catches my eye in the mirror. “Come in. Join us.”
I step farther into the room.
“Marina, this here is my friend Elise.”
The brunette smiles at me. “Nice to meet you.”
Charli turns her attention back to me. “Marina and her little cowboy are old friends of Bryce’s and new friends of mine.
” She pauses. “And hopefully, she’s going to be our new barrel racing instructor at the rodeo academy.
” Her eyes meet mine in the mirror. “So, we all have to be extra nice to them so they’ll want to stay. ”
Ryder gasps, and my eyes snap to him.
“Can we, Mommy?”
“Um …”
“Oops,” Charli says, and I glance back at her. She mouths, I’m sorry.
“It’s okay.”
I look back at Ryder and see the hope on his face, and something warm spreads through my chest.
“We’ll talk about it later, baby.”
Matty clears her throat and reaches for the champagne bottle. “Let’s get the woman a glass.”
She fills an empty flute and hands it to me.
I laugh as I take it. “Thank you.”
Harleigh steps toward Evelyn and Ryder. “Well, Ryder, that is a very serious cowboy hat,” she says, attempting to distract him.
He touches the brim. “It’s a real cowboy one.”
Harleigh nods. “I love his boots too.”
“Me too,” Matty says. “I bet you ride horses?”
Ryder nods enthusiastically. “I can ride a big one like Rowdy. My mommy taught me how.”
“Rowdy is my barrel horse,” I explain.
“In that case, you’re gonna have to show us how good you are,” Shelby tells him.
Within minutes, every woman in the room has complimented his hat, his boots, his vest, or his tie.
Ryder loves every second of it. He stands in the middle of the room, beaming at all the attention.
The door opens, and a woman comes in, carrying a large platter of tiny finger sandwiches.
“All right, girls,” she announces, “you need to get something in your stomachs, or you’re all going to be stumbling down the aisle.”
“Oh, thank God. I’m starving!” Charli calls.
Charli gestures toward me. “Marina, this is Imma Jean. She’s an old family friend and basically a second mom to all of us.”
Imma Jean smiles.
“And she’s the best baker in the county,” Matty says.
“And Daddy’s sweetheart,” Harleigh adds as she reaches around and snatches one of the sandwiches from the platter.
Imma Jean blushes. “What can I say? Albert’s a charmer,” she says.
Then her eyes fall to Ryder, who is eyeing the platter.
Then he looks at Imma Jean. “Do you make chocolate cakes?”
Imma Jean bends toward him. “I sure do.”
Ryder’s eyes widen.
Charli points at him. “And you’re going to get to try some later.”
“I am?”
“Yep. She made my wedding cake.”
His mouth falls open. “A chocolate one?”
Charli laughs. “You’ll have to wait and see.”
Imma Jean places the tray on a table, and the sandwiches disappear quickly after that. Apparently, champagne and excited nerves have made everyone ravenous.
Evelyn checks her watch. “Oh my girls, you have to start getting dressed. It’s almost time.”
Suddenly, everyone is moving. Dresses are pulled from garment bags. Imma Jean calls out shoe sizes and passes out boxes while Shelby searches for lipstick to complete Charli’s makeup.
I take Ryder’s hand. “Come on, handsome. We need to go.”
He looks up at Evelyn. “Bye.”
“Bye, cowboy,” she says before kissing the top of his hat. “See you at the wedding.”
I wave toward everyone. “We’ll see you soon.”
I lead Ryder out of the room.
The noise and laughter fade behind us as we make our way down the hallway and outside.
When we reach the front entrance of the rodeo school, I stop.
Ryder bumps into my leg. “Mommy?”
I stare ahead.
A gorgeous flower arch frames the gate, overflowing with white blossoms and sage foliage. Soft ribbons flutter in the warm breeze, and little wooden signs point guests toward the indoor arena.
Ryder looks up at me. “Wow. That’s pretty.”
I smile. “Wow is right.”
We follow the signs toward the arena.
The closer we get, the more my anticipation builds.
The outdoor arena looks nothing like the place I saw when I arrived yesterday morning.
It’s been converted into something magical.
Pale woven rugs cover the packed dirt, running beneath rows of rustic wooden benches that frame a wide center aisle.
Each bench is accented with small bundles of wildflowers.
At the far end, a simple wooden arch, made of thick woven branches, stands beneath the open sky, draped in greenery and heavy with white, cream, and soft green blooms. Glass lanterns at its base hold flickering candles, whose light shifts gently with the evening breeze.
To one side, a small platform holds a harpist and a guitarist. As guests begin to take their seats, their music rises—delicate harp notes threaded through the easy strum of the guitar. Soft and beautiful.
Quiet conversation and scattered laughter drift through the air as Ryder slips his hand more firmly into mine, and we walk together through the entrance, find a seat at the end of an empty bench, and settle in.