make their own mark in life. Waiting for a handout is a sign of weakness.”
“I knew you’d understand,” Tempest said. “I admire you for being a self-made man.”
He wasn’t certain how admirable he really was. “So I take it no one knows your deep, dark secret.”
“Not a soul. Well, Bud’s lawyer does. But no one else, not even Shinny and Blanche.” She dug into the fajitas she’d ordered. “There was no point in telling anyone. Bud wouldn’t have wanted anything named after him. I didn’t know him very well, but I figure he wasn’t that kind of man. And anyway, I don’t necessarily believe the rumors are true about him being my dad. I had a father.” She stopped, looking faraway for a moment. “I didn’t really know him, either. Mom didn’t talk about him much.”
The salad was delicious, as were the quesadillas, but Shaman suddenly had another topic on his mind. “So, I heard Cat was hinting around about me marrying you.”
Tempest blinked and put her fajita down. “She didn’t say anything like that to me.”
“Oh, boy.” Shaman shook his head, realizing his niece had pulled yet another fast one on him. “That little devil.”
“Why?” Tempest gazed at him. “Did she tell you she’d talked to me about getting married?”
He nodded, suddenly wishing he’d kept his yap shut. “Cat strikes again.”
Tempest laughed and patted his hand, then took a bite of her fajita, unbothered. “I’m leaving tomorrow for New York,” she said, stunning him. “Cat’s a great girl and I love her, but she isn’t the wily meddler she fancies herself to be.”
Shaman put his fork down, studying the beautiful blonde across from him. “Were you going to tell me?”
“I...” She looked at him. “I think so.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. “Cupertino. You make me crazy.”
Her big eyes were round in her face. “I’m not your kind of girl.”
He felt as if his fork was lodged in his throat. “No. You’re really not.”
“You see?” Relief crossed her face. “I was planning to call from New York.”
He knew she wouldn’t have. “Okay,” he said, determined not to make her feel awkward. She had a different life, one that would never include Tempest, New Mexico. “Eat up, since it’s your last hometown meal.”
He ate as if his stomach wasn’t in knots, just to keep the twisting emotions at bay. But the food suddenly tasted like dry crackers and the beer plain water, and he knew he’d fallen a little bit further than he’d meant to.
But he’d always known that in her world, she was the beauty. He was the beast. There really was no bridge between them.
He’d just gotten too caught up in the fantasy.
He was so busy feeling miserable that even though he saw the man exit the booth behind Tempest, his cap tugged low on his face, his gray wool coat pulled up to his neck, Shaman didn’t register that Bobby Taylor had been sitting there. Shaman didn’t think about it until that night, long after he’d dropped Tempest off at home and he lay sleepless in bed. When he did, his eyes snapped open.
That had been Bobby Taylor. And Bobby might have overheard her story.
He might not have.
Chills ran up Shaman’s arms.
He should tell her. Then he realized he still didn’t have Tempest’s cell number. “This is ridiculous,” he said, and got up, pulling on his jeans and shoving his feet into his boots. “He probably didn’t hear anything. He’s a thickheaded moose,” Shaman muttered, “and dumb as a rock.”
He was trying to comfort himself. Yet worry stabbed at him. He jumped in his truck, driving over to Tempest’s almost breaking the speed limit. Her house was dark and her car was gone. Fear snaked through him.
“Looking for Tempest?” a voice asked, and Shaman whirled around.
“Hi, Blanche.” He took in a deep, relieved breath, his heartbeat jumping madly. “Yeah, I was.”
“She decided to take a flight out to New York tonight.” The older woman pulled her shawl more tightly around her. “She said she’d probably stayed here too long.”
“Oh.” The revelation was painful, more painful than he could have ever imagined. “Okay. Thanks.”
“No problem. See you around, Shaman.” Blanche unlocked the door to the B and B, going inside.
Shaman drove back to Dark Diablo, his mind whirling with a mad kaleidoscope of images of Cupertino. He replayed their last conversation over and over, trying to make sense of it. Clearly, she’d left because of him. Yet he wondered why. He hadn’t even kissed her good-night, preferring to keep everything on a casual basis, the way he knew she wanted it.
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