Page 32 of Cowboy Elite 2: Mike

She turned and left, but not before Liv caught the smile she was trying to hide.

Mike paused at the door, looked back. "You're good for this place, Liv." His voice dropped. "You're good for me."

And then he was gone.

Leaving behind warm peach filling and a woman trembling not with fear, but with something dangerously close to wanting.

Later that afternoon, a delivery truck rolled up to the west gate, tires crunching gravel. Charlotte, chasing Pudge across the yard, stopped mid-leap to watch. Heather came around from the barn, hands on her hips, eyes narrowing as a young driver stepped out, long white box in hand.

"Delivery?" she called.

"Flowers," the kid said, checking his clipboard. "For a Miss Olivia Langford?"

Heather frowned, discretely glanced around, noting where her people were. Lyle was in the barn assessing a mare Kenny had brought home. Charlotte, after a brief pause, had skipped off to join him. She looked back at the delivery kid. "There's no Olivia here."

He double-checked the slip. "Says so right here."

Heather reached out slowly and took the box. "I'll make sure it gets to the right person."

The kid tipped his hat and left, oblivious.

Heather stared down at the box for a long moment. Then, with deliberate calm, she carried it straight to the kitchen.

Liv had just slid her cobbler into the second oven when Heather came through the side door.

“I’m pretty sure this is for you,” Heather said gently, handing her the box.

Liv reached out, then stopped dead.

The name printed cleanly across the top wasn't "Liv Ramsey."

It was Olivia Langford.

The box slipped from Liv's hands.

Heather caught it. Set it on the table between them.

Liv backed up a step. Then another. Her hip hit the counter. The room tilted.

"No sender's name," Heather said quietly, watching her. "Just yours." She paused. "I'm guessing by your reaction that Olivia Langford is the real you?"

Liv's hands were shaking. She pressed them flat against the counter, but it didn't help.

"This can't—" Her voice broke. "No one knew. No one could know."

"Sit down," Heather said gently, reaching for her.

But Liv stumbled back, knocking into a chair, sitting down hard. "It's him." The words came out strangled. "He found me."

"Who?" Heather's voice stayed soft, but her eyes had gone sharp.

Liv shook her head, throat closing.

The door banged open and Mike walked in, sweat-slicked from checking the smokers.

He took one look between them and his easy expression vanished.

"What's going on?" Then he saw the box. "Liv?"