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“Not worried. Trying to give your mother what she wants, what she deserves. Unlike her ungrateful kids.”

“She loves us too, you know. If you’re not careful, you’ll push her too far.”

Ben seemed to consider that, and Shane refused to give him credit for having the sense to do so.

“Well, boss, guess I’ll go shovel your shit then,” Ben said, that flat line of his mouth turning into a cocky smile. He tipped his hat and moseyed himself back to the four-wheeler he’d driven up in.

Shane scowled after him because he had the sneaking suspicion he’d played his hand a little too clearly. If Ben actually started doing the work he was supposed to do around the ranch, without any new information about Ben’s past coming to light, what argument could Shane pose then?

Chapter Six

Cora vacillated between furious and devastated, and just about a hundred emotions in between. Her sweet, obnoxious, pain in the ass, hurt, and confused little boy had thrown a basketball at a coach’s head.

He had gotten himself not just kicked out of basketball camp, butbannedfrom any further activities with the Benson Athletic Association.Banned. Her sweet little baby.

She wanted to cry and yell and pound the steering wheel, and she simply didn’t have the time. She had to focus on driving to the bakery and figuring out what she was going to do with Micah once she got there.

She knew Emily, the woman who ran Piece of Cake, somewhat. Cora had gotten involved in Brandon’s chamber of commerce as a representative of Mile High Weddings, and there were a few women in the group, including Emily. It had been nice to be in a meeting where her voice was considered equal to all the rest.

But having a social life or even just occasional friendly get-togethers with businesswomen in town was nearly impossible these days, and looked to be heading toward totally impossible.

“Why can’t you just drop me off at home?” Micah whined, slapping his feet against the dash.

Cora reached over and pushed his feet back onto the floorboard.

“Other than the fact that you’re clearly not responsible enough to be left on your own, since you threw a basketball at an instructor.”

“It’s basketball camp.”

“Micah Zander Preston.”

“It was an accident. He was being a dick.”

“It can’t be both, and I don’t care! You don’t hurt people. You don’t . . .” She had to stop herself, because her voice was about to break and the tears were about to fall. This couldn’t be the only interaction they had any more. Crying and anger.

She pulled into one of the spaces in front of Piece of Cake. She stared hard at the pretty brick building, the painting on the big storefront window. A giant cupcake with a smile.

Cora breathed, staring at the maniacal cupcake smile, willing herself to find some calm. Micah was acting out, and she needed to be the calm one.

“You will go inside with me. You will sit in the corner. You will not make a noise. You will endure however long this takes, and then, when we get home, we will have a calm, reasonable discussion about your behavior, and the natural consequences of that behavior.”

“Are you going to make me see Dr. Grove again?” he asked, wrinkling his nose, clearly catching on to the fact that she was using some of Dr. Grove’s buzzwords.

“Eventually.” Cora took a second to be proud of herself. Yes, inside she was a wreck, but outside she was doing a fair job of being calm and yet firm with Micah. “How soon and how many times will depend on how that discussion goes.”

He gave a disgusted, patently teenage sigh.

“One wrong move, mister, and we will camp out on her office stairs so you can speak to her first thing in the morning.” And, ugh, now she sounded like her mother. The mother who’d only found fault with her, over and over again.

Though more tears threatened, Cora blinked them back. “I’m so angry with you, Micah, but I love you, baby. That’s why I’m mad. I know you. . . . You’re better than this. I know you are.”

Some of that sullen teenage mulishness turned into something softer, more hurt. Cora didn’t have the first clue if she was doing this right, but she wouldn’t let her kid think she thought he was a bad kid.

“Let’s go.” She pushed out of the car, somewhat gratified when Micah followed without any more complaints. Though his sighs were loud enough to be heard down the block, he did as he was told when they entered the bakery. He went to a little table in the corner, parked himself in a chair, and looked down at his shoes.

“Hi, Cora,” Emily greeted, coming out from behind her prettily decorated counter. The interior looked like a mix between some French bakery and some farm-y Instagram creation—all gingham and wildflowers.

“Hi, Emily. I guess Deb isn’t here yet?”