Page 132 of Promised to the Cowboy

His surprise is small but unmistakable. “If I’m invited.”

“You’ve been here since six.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

I understand then—heisasking, not assuming or taking the invitation for granted.

He’s… learning how to be my father. And I’m learning how to be his son.

“You’re invited,” I say.

His shoulders loosen. “Then yes.”

We both fall quiet. Outside, a hammer strikes somewhere near the house, followed by Kitty’s voice telling Tom that crooked is not a design choice. Wedding preparations. Three days away.

Evie has spent the last week insisting she doesn’t need a fuss while Delaney produces lists, Shay bakes enough food for a military deployment, and Maggie orders everybody around with the calm authority of a field marshal.

Three days until Evie becomes my wife. The thought still catches inside me, but not with fear. With wonder.

I hear an engine, followed by gravel popping beneath tires, before a truck pulls into view. Caleb’s truck comes around theside of the house and pulls up near the stacked lumber. He climbs out, favoring his right leg for the first few steps before his stride evens out.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Heard you had work.”

Dad looks toward the lumber. “You any good with stall partitions?”

“I raised three younger siblings. I’m good with anything that can kick, bite, or ignore simple instructions.”

“Then you’re overqualified,” Dad says.

Caleb reaches for the board I was holding earlier.

I glance at his knee. “You supposed to be lifting that?”

His eyes narrow. “You really want to start comparing medical restrictions?”

I chuckle. “No.”

“Smart.”

He shoulders the board and carries it toward the new stall with only the slightest hitch in his step.

“And you’re staying for lunch.”

He looks toward the house again. “Maggie know?”

“Maggie knows everything, Caleb. You should know that by now.”

As if summoned by the sound of her name, Maggie appears in the barn doorway with her hands on her hips and her aprondusted with flour. “Gabriel Sutton, why are you standing around drinking coffee when there are tables to be moved?”

“I told him not to lift anything,” Dad says.

Maggie’s eyes narrow. “And did he listen?”

“No.”

“Then stop wasting breath and take the other end.”