Page 11 of Cowboy Elite 2: Mike

"Cowgirl in training," he teased. "No pressure."

As he moved past her, something in Liv's chest shifted. Watching him disappear through the screen door, his laughter mingling with Lyle and Heather's, the world began to feel just a little less foreign.

Liv was elbow-deep in pie dough when Charlotte appeared at the screen door, one boot on, one off, her braid half-undone and decorated with what looked like a small twig.

"Can I come in?" she asked, solemn as a judge.

"Sure, honey." Liv wiped her hands on her apron. "But I think you're missing a boot."

Charlotte looked down at her sock foot like she'd just noticed. "Tiny ate it."

Liv blinked. "The goat?"

"He didn't eat the whole thing. Just the laces. And part of the tongue." She said it like this was a reasonable Tuesday morning occurrence.

"Does Heather know?"

Charlotte climbed up on the stool by the counter, swinging her feet. "Uncle Mike's getting it back. He said a bad word, though. I'm not supposed to repeat it."

Liv pressed her lips together, fighting a smile. "Probably wise."

"Can I have a cookie?"

"It's not even ten in the morning."

Charlotte gave her a look that said mornings and cookies were not mutually exclusive concepts. "Uncle Mike gives me cookies."

"Does he now?"

"For breakfast sometimes. He says cookies are just flat muffins."

Liv laughed. "Well, I can't argue with that logic." She pulled a small oatmeal cookie from the jar by the stove and set it on a napkin. "But just one. And don't tell Heather."

"I won't." Charlotte bit in, chewing thoughtfully. Then she tilted her head, studying Liv with the kind of focus only six-year-olds could manage. "Are you scared of something?"

Liv's hands stilled. "What makes you ask that?"

"'Cause you look like Holly does when there's thunder. Like you're waiting for the loud part."

“Who’s Holly?”

“My dog. Well, one of them. We have a lot.”

Liv crouched down so she was eye-level with Charlotte. "Sometimes grown-ups get worried about things. But I'm okay. Promise."

Charlotte nodded, apparently satisfied. "Uncle Mike worries too. But he smiles a lot so people don't notice."

Liv's throat went tight.

"You should smile more too," Charlotte added. "You're really pretty when you do."

Before Liv could respond, the little girl hopped off the stool and padded toward the door, one boot on, one sock trailing crumbs.

"Thanks for the cookie!" she called over her shoulder.

And then she was gone, leaving Liv standing in the middle of the kitchen with flour on her hands and something warm and achy lodged in her chest.

Heather knocked gently on the doorframe of the walk-in pantry a little after eleven. "Got a few minutes?"