Cat wanted Tempest to come home. She thought my wife’s writing creativity would get a boost if she met Tempest. Cat had other reasons for choosing her for pen pal status, but that’s the main idea. So don’t tell me the internet doesn’t work. It’s what brought her all the way from Italy.”
“Doesn’t matter. She’ll go to her gig when she’s ready. In the meantime, she doesn’t look like she’s suffering, does she?” Shaman asked, crossing his arms. “I mean, if you’re trying to infer that she can do better than me, I’ll be the first to admit I’m no prince, bro.”
Gage shook his head. There probably would have been more discussion of the wonders of the woman who seemed to want nothing more than nights in Shaman’s arms, but two walls collapsed on the barn, and workers started yelling and running around, ending the debate.
Thankfully. Because if he heard any more about what a goddess she was, he was going to have to tell her to take her picnic basket and hit the road. Shaman knew that, like the beast in the fairy tale, you should just appreciate the pretty things in life—while in the back of your mind you heard your mother saying, “Don’t touch anything in the store! You might break it.” You heard your father say, “A woman only wants a man with money and power.”
One day it’ll be over.
Right now, I just try to make her happy.
Chapter Two
“We’re going to have to quit meeting like this.” Shaman got out of bed, glancing back at the beautiful blonde gracing his sheets.
Tempest rose, too, dragging the sheet with her. If he had more time, he’d consider snatching it off her and tumbling them both back into bed.
“Shaman,” she said, “it’s not forever.”
He wondered what was happening about her negotiations for the Broadway show, but wasn’t about to ask. She’d never mentioned her career, so presumably it was something she didn’t care to discuss, at least not with him. “Yeah,” he said. “Forever’s a tough thing to plan.”
She smiled. “I’m going to get dressed.”
He turned away. “Be my guest. The workers arrived about ten minutes ago, so I’m going to head out.”
“Thanks.” She took her sheet into the bathroom with her, wrapped toga-style, goddesslike. He stared at the door for a long moment, briefly pondering taking her in the shower, then decided maybe she wouldn’t welcome that. These “visitations” of hers were strictly on her terms.
He finished dressing and took off for the barn, snagging a bagel from the stash Tempest had put on the counter.
Then again, one never knew which visit would be the last. He was not a man to look at destiny without a measure of appreciation—and she had mentioned “not forever,” though they’d never talked about the future before. A warning sensation shifted inside him, a prickling of unease. Intuition was a powerful thing, whether in looking out for mines and roadside bombs, or knowing that eventually a woman like her was ready to move on.
“What the hell,” Shaman said, and went back inside to appreciate the best thing that had happened to him in years.
* * *
IT HAD BEEN TWO DAYS since she’d seen Shaman. Tempest was trying to figure out why spending time with him was beginning to matter so much to her. He was kind and strong, qualities that really called to her.
But she needed distance. Deeply felt the need for some space. So today she was renewing a special friendship instead of concentrating on hunky cowboys. She’d brought Cat Phillips, Shaman’s niece, to share a Shinny “special” with her. The change in the teen from sullen to happy heartened Tempest, made her yearn for the same sort of carefree joy in her own life.
“My dad says,” Cat Phillips began, settling into the red-lipstick-colored booth, “that you’re a short-timer.”
She smiled at the teen. “A short-timer here in Tempest?”
Cat nodded, slurping the chocolate milkshake Shinny had made. “Dad says this is too much of a backwater for you. He says that even if you do like Uncle Shaman, you won’t stay because there’s nothing here.” The teen shrugged. “I thought that once, too. Now I think there’s lots here.”
“It’s good that your father talks to you so much,” Tempest said, not really wanting to speak about the short-timer tag that had been hung on her.
“He didn’t talk to me about you and Uncle Shaman,” Cat said. “I heard him telling Chelsea that he doesn’t expect you to be around much longer, which is a good thing, because he doesn’t want Shaman to break your heart.”
Tempest blinked. “Really.”
“Mmm.” The girl nodded, her freshly bobbed black hair moving as she eagerly reached for the cookies Shinny’s wife, Blanche, placed in front of them before heading away from their booth. “Dad says Uncle Shaman is damaged goods, for one thing, now that he’s been in the military so long. He also says my uncle’s stubborn as hell, and he won’t do anything but hide out at Dark Diablo.”
“I’m a little reclusive at times myself,” Tempest said. “It’s not always a bad thing.”
“Yeah, but Dad says Aunt Kendall and Uncle Xav are bugging him to get Shaman home. They say he refuses to even discuss it while you’re in town.”
Tempest hesitated. “Where is Shaman’s home?”
“In Texas. Hell’s Colony.” Cat squinted, obviously thinking. “It’s kind of a palace.”
“A palace?” Tempest couldn’t envision Shaman in a palace. He seemed as one with the outdoors, fully connected to ranch life.
“Kind of.” She shrugged, fumbling for a description. “But anyway, Dad says the pressure’s on for Shaman to go home, though when he brings it up, Uncle Shaman tells him to get bent. I’m not supposed to say get bent.” Cat shrugged. “But it’s what Dad said.”
Tempest hated to be part of any discord in Shaman’s life. He was kind to her, and she enjoyed their time together. She didn’t want Cat upset, either. She was fond of the girl, and if it hadn’t been for her, Tempest knew she might not ever have returned to the small town where she’d grown up—and had such an unhappy childhood.
Yet it was best to face things one had ignored too long. “I feel badly that your father thinks I’m keeping your uncle from his family.”
“No,” Cat said. “Chelsea said Uncle Shaman wouldn’t go home anyway, and that Dad had been plenty hard to rope back into the fold himself, so he needed to butt out of Shaman’s life. And then I think Dad must have agreed, because I heard a lot of snacking going on after that.” She looked at Tempest wisely. “Snacking is what I call it when Daddy’s smooching on Chelsea. Lots of little snacking noises.”
Tempest smiled. “I’m glad they’re happy.”
“They are. We all are. I love Rancho Diablo!” Cat grinned, her pert little face shining with delight. “I like Dark Diablo, too, but there’s no kids. Dad says Uncle Shaman needs some ankle-biters to tie him to one place, and Chelsea
