THE FALCON FINDS HIS MATE

A Nocturne Falls Universe Novel

By

Candace Colt

Dear Reader,

Nocturne Falls has become a magical place for so many people, myself included. Over and over I’ve heard from you that it’s a town you’d love to visit and even live in! I can tell you that writing the books is just as much fun for me.

With your enthusiasm for the series in mind – and your many requests for more books – the Nocturne Falls Universe was born. It’s a project near and dear to my heart, and one I am very excited about.

I hope these new, guest-authored books will entertain and delight you. And best of all, I hope they allow you to discover some great new authors! (And if you like this book, be sure to check out the rest of the Nocturne Falls Universe offerings.)

For more information about the Nocturne Falls Universe, visit http://kristenpainter.com/sugar-skull-books/

In the meantime, happy reading!

Kristen Painter

Dedicated to my wonderful husband who tolerates my writing obsession.

THE FALCON FINDS HIS MATE

A Nocturne Falls Universe Story

Copyright © 2017 by Candace Colt

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author.

This book is a work of fiction and was made possible by a special agreement with Sugar Skull Books, but hasn’t been reviewed or edited by Kristen Painter. All characters, events, scenes, plots and associated elements appearing in the original Nocturne Falls series remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Kristen Painter, Sugar Skull Books and their affiliates or licensors.

Any similarity to real person, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author or Sugar Skull Books.

Published in the United States of America.

Chapter One

Sipping sweet ice tea from a Mason jar, Jessica ‘Jess’ Callahan rocked in the porch swing, watching car after car file past; each one packed with gawking tourists dying for Nocturne Falls to open.

"Morning, precious." Echo Stargazer slipped into the seat next to her granddaughter. "Look at that traffic." With the August Reunion Festival kicking off this weekend, cars would be stacked all over town.

"Stacked cars? What a hoot!" Echo said.

Jess slammed her heels on the ground halting the swing. "Nana, you can’t keep reading people’s thoughts out loud. At least while my friends are here."

"Don’t be such a worry wart. They won’t arrive until tomorrow. " Echo beamed a

crooked grin and waved her knotty-fingered palm. "Decorum, grace, and charm will ooze from my very being."

This would be a supreme challenge for the little lady sitting next to her. "Let’s not overdo it," Jess said.

"Moi? Overdo?" Echo slipped a pearl encrusted cuff bracelet from her pocket and polished it on her thigh.

Barefoot in her faded Boston University sleep shirt, Jess marveled at this seventy-six-year-old wearing marigold yellow culottes, a hand-embroidered over-blouse, and full makeup down to crimson lipstick on her wizened lips. Her grandmother had fashionista style.

Sunrise to nightfall, Jess spent the last three months on repairs to their two-story Victorian and applied more color to the walls than to her cheekbones.

"You look lovely without makeup," Echo said.

"Thank you, Nana, but don’t change the subject. Zoey and Sierra don’t know what goes on in this town and no clue about my dear grandmother."

Echo’s impish eyes sparkled. "What happens when I’m with clients?"

"Could you meet them somewhere else for the week? How about the Hallowed Bean coffee shop?"

"Where someone’s always bellowing orders?"

Echo gestured to the left, and a half-dozen bracelets tinkled down her arm like a wind chime. "A tall Jack O’ Lantern Latte with soy, no whip, for Eliza." When she raised her other arm, another half-dozen bangles followed suit. "Double Enchanted Espresso for Jake. In the corner, a card reading for Maude."

"You made your point." Jess opened a weather app on her phone. "Ninety-five by noon."

"Hot enough to fry green tomatoes on the vine. Outstanding. Tourists will flock inside for our cold air conditioning and stay to buy trinkets."

Forever optimistic, Echo’s freezer was full of lemonade squeezed from a lifetime of lemons. She could find a rainbow in a pig sty.

Starting with only five hundred dollars to her name, Echo had leveraged the first floor into the Carpe Diem, a profitable costume and tchotchke shop. Private card readings in their living quarters on the second floor of their carnation pink Victorian home, iced the cake.

As an orphaned eight-year-old, Jess adapted to Nana’s quirks. But her college roommates would be here for only a week; not nearly time to adjust to anything.

"Are you finished with the stage?" Echo asked.

Jess shook her head and crunched the last ice cube. Weeks ago, tickets sold out for tomorrow’s Ellingham Animal Sanctuary Showcase, the first event of the Reunion Festival. And the Harmswood Academy auditorium stage was far from ready.

Though her stock-and-trade was building elaborate museum displays, she would never again tackle a project like this. Not because she couldn’t handle tools—she could.

Lassoed into chairing the Showcase, her problems started the moment she called the first work meeting to order. Not that order ever reigned. Leading this motley group was a test of wills akin to directing a migrating wildebeest choir.

There’d been more pre-planning, planning-to-plan, and review-the-plan meetings to overflow both claw-footed bathtubs upstairs. Still, they were down to the wire.

Half the volunteers had magical powers; all failed to conjure a break from bad luck. First, the electrical panel blew. The toilets in the women’s bathroom wouldn’t flush. The AC cashed out. Delivered two days early, three dozen white gladiolus intended for the lobby had drooped and turned brown.

What she wouldn’t trade for a day to rest.

"It will go better today, believe me. I talked with the fairies and they agreed to stop their tricks. I told you what would happen if they weren’t on your planning committee," Echo said.

"From your mouth to the Goddess’s ears." All Jess wanted was for the show to be over, and to tame her growling stomach with yogurt and fresh Georgia peaches.

"Sliced in the fridge," Echo said.

Jess dropped her chin. Again? "Nana, I love you to tears, but—"

Echo raised a three-finger scout salute. "On my honor…"

The rest lost as a "meworowow" and crash rattled the front door.

"I’ll get him," Jess said.

Through the threshold sauntered Echo’s beloved cat. Focused like a Mini-Sumo wrestler, he faced his opponent, a half-pulverized scratching post. With one paw smack, the contraption succumbed.

Under the cat’s stony glower, Jess gathered the broken pieces. "How many does that make?"

"Since you came back? Five, counting this one."

Echo grunted as she lifted a cat the size of a small snowman. "Crealde, honey. Are you sneaking food? Calling pizza delivery after we’ve gone to bed?"

His purr grew to a lion’s roar. Jess covered her ears. "He doesn’t like being fat shamed."

"Stop it, Crealde. You’ll wake the dead." Echo hooked a thumb over her shoulder to her neighbor’s shuttered house. "Though it would take more than a catcall to stir that bunch."

The cat went quiet as Echo’s fingers spun over his snow-white fur.

Jess leaned against the wall, arms folded over her chest. "And how do you propose we explain Crealde to houseguests?"

Echo’s wide-rimmed glasses magnified her eyes to hockey pucks. "What’s to explain?"

Jess gave her temples a deep massage. What’s to explain? "Work with me, Nana. Except to us and all supers in Nocturne Falls, your nineteen-pound fur baby with one blue and one green eye is entirely invisible."

"Details. Details. By the way, I’ve arranged for the Ford brothers to come help today," Echo said.

More help meant more novices to herd and Jess didn’t have time to play nursemaid.

Wait. Surely she’d heard that wrong.

"Who did you say was coming to help?" Jess craned her neck at an angle toward her grandmother.

"You heard me. Besides, many hands make the load lighter."

For certain, this was a load of something. But not something nice smelling. Jess had managed to steer clear of Connor Ford the whole time she’d been home. It had taken seven years to get over him and ten seconds to jump-start old feelings.

Calm down. This wasn’t high school. They weren’t kids anymore. He’d probably forgotten all about her as she had him, if only for a minute.

This was so not going to be easy.

While she ate breakfast, Jess couldn’t sidestep worry. A dozen times Sierra Everest and Zoey Houston had pestered to come home with her on college breaks. Each time she came up with a baker’s dozen reasons against it.

Three years after they graduated, she finally caved. Good time as any, Festival week would give them the full Nocturne Falls experience.

She braided her hair and rehearsed ways to explain Nana’s eccentricities to Sierra, the world-traveling child of a UN ambassador, and Zoey, a Senator’s daughter.

Above all else, explanations had to be simple. Brag on Nocturne Falls, the quaint community that celebrated Halloween all year long. Where diversity was embraced and everyone accepted for who they were.

Coincidences. Echo didn’t read thoughts. No magic about it.

Sure. That will work. No problem at all…until the very human Sierra and Zoey saw fangs, fur, or statues that talked, and ran for the hills.

Jess sighed away a long breath. No plausible way around this except the coward’s route.

Sneaky as it was, only one thing would work. She would convince Zoey and Sierra to drink the specially charged Nocturne Falls water. Right from the start and often.

Humans who drank Moonbow Water didn’t sense any supernatural presence or notice magic. Sad, in a way. There were positive things about being a super, though Jess rarely used her gift.

She rinsed her dishes and glanced out the kitchen window. Nana and Master Cheng were practicing Tai Chi; their dance-like moves synchronized poetry.

No telling how old the man was, or where he lived. Like clockwork, he came every Friday morning, shared time with Nana, and left as quickly as he appeared.

People came and went all the time; in the garden, through the store, and upstairs. Even with privacy at a premium, she was grateful to come home after her dream job shattered like Humpty’s shell.

At first, the headhunter called every few days with upbeat prospects. Now Jess’s calls went to voicemail. It seemed there weren’t many jobs for museum archivists at the moment.

She mentally clicked down an unfinished task list. Too little time. The Showcase had to be flawless. No more problems. She could keep Connor and his brother busy in a far corner. Two of the wealthiest men in town helping build a stage? They might not even show up, or be much use if they did.

As she jimmied her work boots over her socks, a sharp thwack heralded brain-searing pain.

What. Just. Happened.

A bent fingernail? She hoped.

She opened one eye at a time. Good news. Not the nail. Bad news. Thumb angled like a U-turn road sign.

Hurts. A lot.

"Noooooo." Crouched on the floor, her head to her knees, she took long slow inhales.

Deep breathing should help. Why didn’t it?

Chapter Two

Footsteps. Closer.

"Nana?"

Echo knelt beside Jess. "We heard you all the way downstairs. What on earth is wrong?"

Without raising her head or saying a word, Jess stuck her hand in the air.

"Gracious. I won’t even ask how," Echo said.

"Don’t." Jess’s voice muffled between her knees.

Soft fingers wrapped around her hand, easing the screaming pain to a distant shout. Someone held the wicked renegade thumb.

"I help, Miss." Not Nana’s voice. Her eyes opened a slit to see Master Cheng on his knees beside her. "Hold breath, Miss."

She filled her lungs to capacity and hiked in one more smidgen. Master Cheng clasped her hand and an electrical cavalcade coursed through her.

"Breathe out." The man’s hands opened like a delicate lotus blossom. "No more pain."

Jess stared unblinkingly at her perfectly straight thumb.

*~*

"No. Not a chance." Ryan Ford’s teeth ground at the image in the mirror. Emblazoned across the front of his black T-shirt, in bright shiny letters: I <heart> falcons.

His brother, Connor, wiped workbench sawdust off his hands. "All in the name of charity."

"I don’t care if it’s for the Queen of Egypt. I wouldn’t use this moronic thing to polish wood, let alone wear it. Does Mother realize we’re grown men?"

"Always better to humor, than argue with her."

Ryan yanked off the shirt and slapped it over his brother’s shoulder. "Fine. You wear it. You walk across the stage in front of two hundred people."

"Sorry, bro." Connor extended the shirt to arms’ length. "Mother volunteered you."

"Don’t remind me."             

Why didn’t he just write a check for his appearance, stay here and finish the Fareed project? It hurt to part with the five-foot tall, carved wooden stallion, but the seventy-thousand-dollar commission eased the ache. With the money, he could afford to move his studio off his mother’s estate. That day couldn’t come soon enough.

"Dude," Connor said. "Mother’s crossing the driveway. ETA forty-five seconds. I’m gone."

"If you’re determined to abandon me, at least do it on foot and not wing."

Elenora Ellingham, an elder in the Nocturne Falls founding family, forbade shape-shifters to turn during the day. Like that would stop his brother.

Connor flashed a devious grin. "I rise to meet the wind. Later, bro." With a finger snap, he shifted into a falcon and took flight out the back door into the woods behind the estate.

"Thanks, bro." Ryan stuffed the obnoxious T-shirt into a cabinet seconds before a shadow crossed the threshold, blocking the morning light.

Solange Ford kicked aside wood shavings and walked further into the workshop. "How can you stand this mess?"

How? For starters, to avoid being hassled by a playboy brother and a sharp-tongued mother. Though today solitude was an illusion.

"This is a working studio, Mother. Not a tea room."

"I hoped for a preview of your outfit," Solange said.

He cut a glance to the hiding place where the outlandish shirt would never again see daylight in this lifetime or the next. "Preview or approval?"

"Was that a nice thing to say to your mother?"

Not in the slightest. Ryan remained tight-lipped.

Solange rubbed a hand over her son’s cheek and gave his hair a slight tug. "You could use a shave, and maybe get your hair trimmed, just a teeny bit."

If he could help it, never. "How about I shave my head like Connor?"

"Do not under any circumstance mimic that horrific butchered haircut." His mother went to the door and stared into the pines. "It would mean the world to me if you won."

He ran a cloth down the stallion’s smooth haunch. "No matter who wins, the money goes to a good cause."

"But it would be wonderful to boast on my good-looking son."

"Or show off to your cronies?"

In mock displeasure, she rolled her eyes. "Connor is acting so childish. As though I can’t see him up there. Has he forgotten who taught you both how to hide? How to wait? And when the moment was right, how to—"

Ryan hammered shut the lid to a tin of wax. "Mother. Don’t go there." Hunting prey was in the Ford DNA, but not something he enjoyed thinking about, nor doing.

After he had mucked up his first, only, and last kill, he became vegetarian.

Solange fluffed her dappled gray hair. "Time to charm your brother from the tree. I believe you’re both due at Harmswood."

Modeling in the Showcase was humiliation enough. Building the stage was like forcing condemned men to build their gallows.

And what use would tag along Connor be? It drove Ryan up a wall any time his brother got near a tool.

"One more thing," Solange said.

Always one more thing and the second was never good.

"I found out Jessica Callahan will be there."

Ryan cocked his head toward his mother. "So what?"

"I don’t want him tempted into rekindling an old romance."

"Are you kidding? Connor can’t remember who he dated last year. You think he remembers high school?"

"We don’t need this now that he’s settled down and about to be married."

"The original runaway groom settled down?" His laugh reverberated through the rafters.

Unmoved, Solange faced him. "I’ve instilled high mating standards in you boys. It doesn’t matter how many women you almost marry. The one you do marry is the one that counts. This union will be an asset. As will yours to Melanie."

Melanie McPherson? That arranged engagement to the highbrow Atlanta shifter had ended a long time ago. Sooner or later, he’d tell his mother, but with the permanent bad mood his she wore like a wetsuit, later worked.

"You never liked Jess or her grandmother because they aren’t shifters. Admit it," he said.

"Pfft. Echo Stargazer is a trickster with cheap parlor card games. Even her name is made up. How can you be Evelyn Putnam one day, and become Echo Stargazer the next? And her biggest trick? Passing off that girl as a psychic to get her into Harmswood. The girl has no supernatural powers."

Ryan’s blood pressure traveled along a fuse that threatened to blow a hole through his skull. If there were awards for intolerance, his mother would have a full trophy case.

"Nobody gets through the selection procedures by trickery," he said.

Everyone in town loved Echo and nobody cared what she called herself. And humans with magical gifts had the same right to attend Harmswood Academy as any other supernatural.

"So I assume you will help me. That girl burned a hot torch for him." Solange waved over her shoulder. "Ciao."

Who else but his mother would have the unthinking audacity to mention burning torches in this town?

*~*

To Ryan’s relief, Connor didn’t make the trip into town. Inside the bloody hot Harmswood Academy auditorium, Ryan followed the sounds of hammering and power saws. In a town founded by a family as wealthy as the Ellinghams, why couldn’t they spring for a new AC unit?

And what chaos. An ant colony had more purpose. Who was in charge?

Stepping over gaffer-taped audio cables and in between a dozen workers, he tapped the shoulder of a man operating a jig-saw.

"Can you direct me to the supervisor?" Ryan asked.

The man pointed to someone on a ladder on the stage. "Since you’re going that way, would you take this?" He handed Ryan a plywood cut-out of some indistinguishable entity.

Turning it in all directions, he couldn’t make heads nor tails out of it. Assuming it was an animal with a head or tail.

When he reached the ladder, his eyes trailed up a woman’s slim blue jean clad legs.

Though he chose to live like a recluse, he still appreciated a nice-looking female, and if this view was any indication, there was much to appreciate.

"Excuse me," he said. But she wore earplugs and didn’t hear him.

Since he apparently held a key piece, he waved at her.

Her leather tool belt gently bounced on her curvy hips as she stepped down to join him. She removed her safety goggles and earplugs and offered a tentative smile.

Was that hammering somewhere, or his heart? Glistening in the sweltering room, her creamy skin glowed. "The guy with the saw asked me to bring this," he said.

"The otter. Thank you." She studied him a moment then broke into an engaging smile that burst like spring across her freckled face. "You don’t recognize me, do you?"

Her shirt splotched with paint and sawdust. A reversed ball cap. Didn’t ring any bells. Wait. Freckles? Scrunched nose when she smiled?

"I’m Jess Callahan."

She had a firm, friendly handshake.

So, this is who his mother assigned him to watch. He made a point of thanking her later. Second thought, he’d keep it to himself.

"I guess you remember me," he said.

"Ryan Ford." She brushed her arms and climbed the ladder, nimbly handling the nail gun to attach the mystery piece.

She rejoined him and crossed her arms under her ample breasts. "It looks a little rough. Paint will make all the difference."

Nothing about her looked rough. But he couldn’t say the same for that mismatched shape conglomeration.

He tilted his head from side-to-side. "I still can’t make out an otter." Or any other natural animal in the universe.

Her back stiffened. Not promising.

He tried another tact. "White clouds and blue sky?"

Was he imagining superheated daggers flying from her half-closed eyelids?

"Excuse me, but the Harmswood art club designed this stage." Her words measured through gritted teeth, she looked like someone about to shift to a very agitated animal.

Chapter Three

Swift move, Ford. The advantage to hibernating in his studio was that wooden sculptures didn’t care what he said or how he said it. But people, on the other hand, did.

"That didn’t come out right," he said.

"The kids worked hard on this design. And I happen to like it."

Anger didn’t look good on many women, but on this redhead, it weaved cute with sexy.

"It was a stupid thing to say from someone who just walked in the door. I came to help, so put me to work," he said.

Her face softened, though her still flushed cheeks matched her ginger hair.

"You can finish the side sections." She unfolded a sketch sheet and smoothed it against the wall.

In seconds, he committed the design to memory. He let her keep talking to listen to her lilting voice. Standing this close, he caught her light fragrance. Roses.

She refolded the paper and put it in her pocket. "You ever use a table saw?"

He swallowed his amusement. His love affair with woodworking started in second grade. This was no challenge.

"I have."

"Holler if you need help," she said.

He chose some sturdy plywood from a pile and set to work. In less than forty-five minutes, he measured, cut, made a few embellishments and assembled the pieces.

Jess came up behind him. "You did all this by yourself?"

"Seems I did." From the moment he started any project, time boundaries vanished. Hours and meals passed when he was in the zone.

While Jess fastened the sections on the stage, he held them for her and stole more than one look at her toned arms and firm full breasts. What had happened to the gawky little kid?

"Could hold still? We could get this done a lot faster if you’d pay attention," she said.

Oh, he was paying attention all right. Not to the boards. "Sorry." But not for staring.

Facepalm moment. Which one was the mind reader? Jess or her grandmother? Damned if he remembered. He kept his mouth shut and his thoughts in check.

The aroma of grilled onions and peppers coming from a food truck outside sent his stomach into a happy dance.

This woman didn’t seem to be a threat, nullifying any obligation to his mother. Nor did he intend to miss a chance to spend time with this fine-looking woman. He just hoped Connor stayed away. Far away. Amazon jungle away.

He cleared a nervous throat tickle. "Join me for lunch? My treat."

Bent over, she ran her fingers through her unbraided hair that streamed like silk. Jess cocked her head toward him and squinched her eyes into a curious stare.

Had he sprouted wings? He flexed his arms and fingers. Fully human.

Still bent upside down, Jess’s face lit up, and to his amazement, she righted herself and accepted his invitation.

Dodging workers installing lights in tree branches over an outdoor patio, they found seats at a picnic table. Though the midday sun was as hot as a convection oven, their shaded spot was still cooler than the auditorium.

"Wonder why we haven’t run into each other before today?" Ryan asked.

She wiped a sweat bead from her cleavage. "Unless you’re a regular shopper at the DIY Depot, you probably wouldn’t."

The Harmswood class change bell reverberated across the campus, bringing small talk to a jarring end.

Jess covered her ears until it stopped. "Guess they don’t turn it off for the summer. Can you believe how many times a day that thing rang? Start class. End class. Lunch break. Go home. We marched around like baby ducks."

The only good things about Harmswood were wood shop and art class. Everything else was a distant blur. Including Jess.

Two classes ahead, Ryan only remembered that she was a nice kid, but not a standout. Nothing like this beauty, who along with the whole Harmswood female teenage population, had a crush on Connor.

"How long are you staying in Nocturne Falls?" He watched the growing onion pile Jess picked off her meatball sub. Excellent to add to his grilled Portobello but how would it look to ask someone he barely knew for her spare onions?

"I was roadkill from a downsized museum. My headhunter thinks I’ll have a job by October." She pushed her plate toward him. "Help yourself."

"Oh, no. I’m sorry. I couldn’t." Perhaps this was the mind reader.

"Go ahead. You’re eyeing them like a hawk." She covered her mouth. "I didn’t just say hawk."

Ryan shrugged as he scooped the onions. "Common mistake. Most people can’t tell a hawk from a falcon."

"Well, I can." She wiped away laughter tears. "It was a slip of the tongue."

A sense of humor after all. Keeping tabs on this woman might be easier than he thought. His day had just brightened like a second sunrise.

Jess looked around again, at least the fifth time in the last twenty minutes. "Everything okay?" He asked.

"I thought Connor was supposed to be here."

Exit sunrise; enter sunset.

Chapter Four

"Wait." "Don’t lock us in."

Swathed in a high-end perfume cloud, three women raced downstairs and sped past as Jess told the part-time sales clerks goodnight and started to set the Carpe Diem night alarm.

Another of her grandmother’s group rate sessions. Echo’s talent for marketing matched her knack with the cards.

Upstairs, Jess took a seat at a large table draped with a fringed floral cloth. Clients either left this table in tears or overjoyed. The little ensemble that had scurried out fit the latter. "It went well; I take it."

"I shouldn’t do so many readings in a row. I’m exhausted," Echo said.

Jess took off her work boots and massaged her feet. "I can relate to that."

Next to Echo’s wooden card box, smoky sage wisps rose from an abalone shell, slipping into every crevice of Jess’s memory.

The world was right and grounded when her grandmother burned sage.

"Did your extra workers show up?" Echo asked.

"Yes." And no.

Ryan Ford had been a pleasant surprise. Somehow he’d outgrown his gothy-nerd phase and turned into a nice-looking guy.

Not his fault that she’d been distracted at lunch. She’d jockeyed nervousness about seeing Connor, with disappointment that he never made an appearance.

Echo moved a philodendron plant from the antique pie chest and set it in the middle of the table; then she sat in a high-backed chair that didn’t match the other three, or anything else in the house.

"How’s your thumb?" Echo asked.

Jess hadn’t given it a thought since this morning. "Someday tell me how he did that."

"Simple. He moved Chi."

Naturally. Why had she even asked? Everyone can move Chi. Nana’s mysterious friends.

To give her grandmother more room, Jess pulled on the table, which didn’t move a millimeter. Gripping the table edge, she gave it another full heave. Still to no avail other than raising a howl from below that rattled heaven’s gates. The leg hadn’t caught the rug.

Crealde strolled out and fired a death ray scowl from his mismatched eyes. He plopped in the middle of the room and gave his shoulder an annoyed grooming.

Which side of Alice’s mushroom had Jess bitten? Had she outgrown the house, or was the house closing in on her?

Echo once followed a rule that for each thing that came in, two went out. That had worked for a week, ten years ago.

"Hoarder" didn’t describe Echo. A kinder term was "rescuer." She adopted things. Lamps, chests, chairs, paintings, or objects d’art. There was room in this house for anything if it was frilly, pastel, chintz, shabby and chic.

Echo brushed spilled ashes into the shell. "Before I put these cards away, would you like a reading? On the house." Echo’s giggle tinkled like a spoon against bone china.

Jess pressed her sweaty hands into her knees. Not because she didn’t believe in the cards or her grandmother’s clairsentience. She did. Both her parents had gifts. But what good were they? Nothing prevented them from dying.

The summer after she came to live with her grandmother, Jess’s clairvoyance emerged. Without mentors at Harmswood and her grandmother’s wisdom, the magical gift could easily have become a curse.

"This is your shtick, Nana. Not mine. All I want is something to eat, a long soaking bath, and then dissolve into sleep."

Echo shuffled the cards and set the deck on the table. "You don’t have to if you aren’t sure."

Never sure; always curious. And her grandmother wouldn’t budge until she went through with this.

"One and done," Jess said.

"Set your intention," Echo said. "You can keep the ring on. The cards can’t be blocked."

Not reassuring. Passed down from Jess’s mother, the jade ring blocked all clairvoyant visions.

She kept it on. Always.

On the other side of exhaustion, she doubted the cards cared that sleep was her primary intention.

She opted for a general, easy-peasy, open-ended reading. Let the cards talk to her if they so choose. Otherwise, goodnight and off to bed.

Though it had been years, she remembered the ritual.

Right hand over her heart, feeling each beat’s sharp thump, Jess spread the deck in an arc with her left hand.

Each glossy black card was identical. After a long minute, she pulled one that shimmered.

"Keep your awareness on the card. Observe. Don’t judge. Be present right here." Echo dropped her chin to her chest and shut her eyes. "Now we wait."

Jess tapped her toes against the table leg to stay awake. When that didn’t help, she scooted in the chair, scrunching the tablecloth in her hands.

A sudden chill dusted her skin from scalp to toes.

The chill.

Nana’s go-to method to get her little granddaughter to behave. No timeouts. No second warnings. Grownup Jess rubbed her arms hoping to erase the gooseflesh.

"Be present or it won’t work," Echo warned. "And stop fidgeting."

Okay. One more try. Jess closed her eyes. In seconds, she popped them open as something brushed her cheek.

A bright, translucent orb glided past her face then hovered over her card. Jess gasped as it burst like a soap bubble, raining mist over the table.

Good thing she trusted her grandmother as this verged on creepy. She should be used to strange things happening in this house, but her racing heart was not.

The image on the card sharpened and turned her inside out.

Echo leaned forward. "You saw something. It shows all over your face."

"Nothing. I must be too tired." She shoved the card into the deck, crazy to play this game in the first place.

"What was it? Tell me."

Jess opened her mouth to answer, but the words tumbled into her stomach.

Clear as crystal, an image had seared her brain.

Drawn curtains in a dark room. A faint trace of patchouli. Something sat on a pristine bed. Her grandmother’s bedroom, but no Nana.

Chapter Five

Jess darted like a nervous rabbit as she ran errands downtown.

Yesterday’s image on Nana’s card put her stress in a stranglehold.

What did it mean? A warning? A premonition? Or, guilt?

From the first day, she knew her grandmother had trouble taking care of Carpe Diem. Keeping busy with repairs smothered denial. Until now.

How long until she had the hard talk with her Nana about giving up the Carpe Diem? Then what would become of Echo Stargazer?

Jess had considered staying in town, but there was nothing left here. Childhood friends had either moved away or married with families. So many new faces.

Lifelong story; she didn’t fit in anywhere.

One last stop at Delaney’s Delectables for fresh bread for dinner and Scary Scream Scones for breakfast.

"Excited about judging tonight?" Delaney Ellingham, the owner and proprietor, asked.

Excited? Umm. Not quite. "We’re sold out."

"That’s wonderful news. Our family will be delighted. I even convinced my husband to come to the after party. It’s so hard to get him out of the house."

Make that doubly hard for Jess. Despite Zoey’s and Sierra’s efforts to convert her into a party connoisseur, she would rather stay home and watch how-to videos. Anything other than socializing with strangers.

Those two women held their own anywhere, but a gymnasium half full of dancing supers might create a little situation.

One more thing to add to her shopping list; Nocturne Falls bottled water.

The last stop would be the Hallowed Bean for a coffee. In a rush and juggling the bakery bag and her drink, she scarcely noticed that someone held the door.

With an automatic ‘thank you’ nod, she didn’t make eye contact with her benefactor.

"Jess Callahan. That you?"

A vaguely familiar voice. She stepped aside for a tourist family dressed as skeletons to pass, then looked at the person still holding the door.

A shiny, Vin Diesel bald head; buffed arms like mortar cannons, and that same full-of-himself smirk that every Harmswood female, including her, had adored.

Connor Ford.

Her stomach dropped like granite.

In school, he’d carried himself like a GQ model. Today he’d qualify for ‘Muscle Man Monthly.’ This Connor looked like a guy who never met a mirror he didn’t like.

With him was Ryan in a wrinkled denim shirt, tousled brown hair, and a days-old beard. He looked a bit scruffy but, she reminded herself, he had been a tremendous help.

Who would ever guess these two were brothers?

She locked on Ryan’s brown eyes. "Hello, again."

Ryan responded with a cautious smile. "Good to see you." His low, deep voice caused an unfamiliar stirring in her chest that she couldn’t blame on her untouched caffeine. Timeout. She had to harness this runaway horse.

Connor pointed to a small café table. "Will you join us?"

Shielding against rapid fire nerves, she dodged eye contact with either brother. "I really should go. Million things to do." So why didn’t her legs take the hint?

"Five minutes? Ryan, snag our drinks. I’ll wait here," Connor said.

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Sure. Love to, bro. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you." Connor waved his hand toward a scowling Ryan.

She guessed she could spare five minutes, even if she’d stepped into something between these two. Her metal chair grated over the concrete and vibrated through every bone in her body.

Or was this her body sending caution signals?

Connor slumped half-horizontal in his chair, legs spread like a cocky high school quarterback. Fine for a seventeen-year-old. But Connor was twenty-six.

Jess sat tall and erect. Had she spent years on a crippling puppy love for this guy?

"So how’ve you been?" Connor asked.

What had she expected? ‘I’ve been empty since the day I dumped you like a potato sack.’

Bull crap.

She could lie. Say her career had taken a meteoric rise. With more money than she knew what to do with, she was passing through on a visit.

But Ryan probably already told him everything.

"Fine." Mighty impressive answer. "I understand you’re getting married."

"Yes." Connor’s voice dropped. He looked inside for his brother. "How long does it take to get coffee?"

"Is the lucky bride from here?"

He shook his head. "North Carolina."

"A shifter?"

"Falcon like us," he said in an unenthusiastic murmur. "So is Ryan’s fiancé."

Fiancé? Funny how that never came up yesterday. But, why would it? Two people sitting across from each other at a table didn’t mean a real date. 

Of course, the Ford brothers chose falcon-shifter mates. Solange Ford must be over the moon. Even for a minute, she’d never accepted that her son might have an interest in a non-shifter. Though Connor’s interest had been debatable, it had served to torque Solange.

Ryan returned and handed his brother a cup. "Too long to stand in line for overpriced coffee. You owe me."

"Next time," Connor said.

"This was the next time," Ryan said.

The Fords were among the richest in town, and these two clowns were playing price ping pong? These guys were something else.

The drink’s heat had diminished in direct proportion to her lost patience and she was ready to split.

Life was too short to babysit bickering brothers. How handy to shift into a bird and fly away right now. Better yet, why didn’t they?

"Well, guess I’ll see you tonight." She gathered her packages and disappeared into the crowd.

*~*

Ryan tapped his cup while keeping an eye on Jess.

Who blamed her for leaving after the asinine rant about coffee prices? Had the woman even spoken ten words?

Their mother didn’t need to worry about anybody holding torches for either Ford.

"Happy with yourself?" Ryan asked.

Conner shook his head in bewilderment. "What did I do?"

As far as Ryan remembered, Connor hadn’t done anything consequential. But this time he had. "You ran her away." He spun the cup Jess left behind.

"She’s sure a little hottie. Wonder if she’s dating anyone?" Connor asked. "Did you forget you’re getting married in two months?"

"And?"

Ryan fisted his hands, disgusted at the lustful look in his brother’s eyes. "Leave her alone. She’s a nice kid."

"That, my brother, was no kid."

"Stay away from her."

Connor rocked his chair on two legs. "I told her you were engaged."

Consumed by anger, Ryan fought the urge to punch the smirk from Connor’s face. "Why’d you do that? It’s not true."

"In mother’s world, officially, you are. Don’t you think you should break the news to her?"

"That is none of your business."

"Really? And nosing into my business is yours?"

When it came to Jess Callahan, it damn well was.

Chapter Six

"Your grandmother is adorable." Sierra Everest said. "And your house is out of this world."

As were most things in Nocturne Falls. Jess muted a laugh.

Zoey Houston never stopped scanning the dining room. "I’ve seen vintage houses, but nothing like this. Are those the original chandelier crystals?"

"Trust me, they are. I washed every single one. Speaking of water, I apologize for the heat. We’re in a drought." Jess pushed unopened water bottles closer to her friends. "I’m big on hydration."

"I’m floating. We drank water the whole drive from the Atlanta airport," Zoey said.

Sierra took a bottle and read the label. "Moonbow Water? That’s so clever.”

Jess’s hopes rose, then crashed when Sierra put it down.

"Tonight’s a costume event, and I don’t have a thing. Aren’t there clothes downstairs?" Zoey asked.

As they spun through the Carpe Diem costume racks, Sierra and Zoey alternated nods of approval or vetoes.

Sierra held up an adult’s princess dress and quickly put it back on the rack. "So what’s this contest your grandmother was talking about?"

Jess picked at a non-existent spot on her leg. "It’s a charity Showcase."

Zoey shook her head at another offer of water. "A talent thing?"

In a way. Jess sifted for the right words in her brain-o-dex. "Call it a fashion show."

Sierra perked up. "Fashion?"

"Not what you might think." Come on, don’t dodge this one. These are smart women. Too bad they weren’t thirsty ones.

"The contestants will show animals from the local Sanctuary. They’ll be judged on how well their costumes complement the animal they’ll be showing." Jess wondered if this made any sense.

The girls nodded that they understood, though that was unlikely.

"So these contestants are locals?" Zoey asked.

"Right." Jess bit her tongue. Explaining that the contestants were the human form of their shifted animal might be a little much.

"Any available men going to be there?" Sierra asked.

That question was bound to come, sooner or later. But, an hour and a half after they arrived?

"I’m sure you’ll get an eyeful. There are plenty eligible men in town," Jess said.

Some even human.

*~*

"Over your fit?" Connor hefted up on a workbench.

Dogged by his brother, Ryan had retreated to his workshop after the disaster at the Hallowed Bean.

He wiped his hands on a rag and ran a critical eye over the wooden horse. "Don’t you have anything to do besides harass me?"

"Not really. The joy of being filthy rich. Nowhere to be. Nothing to do. "

Ryan loathed doing nothing as much as his brother reveled in it. "Well, I’m on a deadline. She ships in a week," he said.

"This is the best thing you’ve done yet."

A shocking glimmer of rare sincerity. "That sounded like a compliment. I hope the Fareeds love it as much as I do," Ryan said.

"Why wouldn’t they? How are you getting it there?"

"Their family jet."

"You freaking kidding me? Why don’t you ride along?"

"They invited me." And he hadn’t refused, yet.

"I’d go in a minute." Connor slid down from the counter. "Look, I was over the line about you and Melanie. But if Mother hears the news from someone else first, you’ll be disowned. Not all bad, come to think. Then maybe she’ll move me to number one son."

"Sorry you can’t stay, bro. You flying or driving to Harmswood tonight?"

"I’ll drive. Can’t tell how the evening will end. Been awhile since I dated a redhead. Ciao."

Ciao. That pretentious word again. Like talons down a blackboard.

Connor went through women like a spoiled kid who ignored week-old toys. His next plaything would not be Jess Callahan.

Nothing left to do on the stallion. He knew it. The truth was, he’d didn’t want to part with it.

One last time he went to the sculpture.

"Friend, if you could run free, what would you do first?" He stood in silence as though the two-hundred-pound hunk of wood could answer.

*~*

"We’re ready," Jess called from the bedroom.

"Wait for the music," Echo said.

Seconds later Vivaldi’s ‘Four Seasons’ resounded throughout the old Victorian home. Zoey and Sierra cast sideways glances, amusing Jess.

"Let’s just say my grandmother does everything with flourish."             

"Ladies, you may begin," Echo proclaimed.

"Sierra, you first. And the more theater, the better. Nana loves it."

Jess announced, "May it please your majesty, your first visitor is Salty Sierra."

"Seriously? The best you could come up with?" Sierra murmured.

They looked at each other and giggled.

"Just work it," Jess said.

Salty Sierra, her chest poured into a leather bustier, swaggered from the bedroom. At five foot eight, and thigh-high stiletto boots, she towered over her friends.

In her magenta skirt slit from her hip to the South Pole, Salty Sierra removed her tri-corner hat and bowed. Her curly black hair fell to her shoulders in a messy tangle. "My queen, I’ve been at sea twenty months and claimed a hundred islands in your name."

Echo offered her hand, and Sierra made a grand gesture to kiss one of the many rings that adorned the old woman’s fingers. "Rise my dear and take your place beside me. And who’s next?" Echo’s voice sang.

"The cat goddess, Bast," Jess said.

It took an hour to get the eyes right, but after laughing through the afternoon, the elaborate kohl artwork had channeled down Bast’s cheek. They had decided to call the new look zombie meets cat woman.

To heighten the effect, Zoey borrowed Jess’s favorite gold dress. "If you don’t sit down, you’ll be fine," Jess warned.

"Not sure how I’ll manage this all night." Zoey wiggled the tight-fitting dress over her hips. "Oh, my staff."

Zoey made a quick turn to the bedroom and retrieved the wooden spoon they’d sprayed and glittered, then stood in the dining room doorway. "May I approach?"

"Come forward," Echo said.

"Greetings from the Nile." Zoey made a skirt-hike prevention bow.

"You are most welcome here. Where is my last visitor?"

Jess ran her hands down her sleeveless crocheted smock layered over a beige hemp jumper. Shiny work boots completed her outfit.

Sierra had styled Jess’s hair in relaxed braids. Platinum gray shadowed her brown eyes, and crimson cherry lipstick glazed her lips.   

Echo embraced her granddaughter and adjusted the floppy silk flower clipped in Jess’s hair. "You look magnificent." She gathered all three girls into a hug. "You’re all magnificent. I love you all."

Zoey fanned with the spoon. "I sure hope wherever we’re going is air conditioned."

"How about some cool water?" Jess prayed they’d drink at least a little bit before the show. Soon, they’d be seeing Nocturne’s best-looking shapeshifters parade across the stage.

Make that a lot of water.

"Still no luck?" Echo whispered.

"Nope. They haven’t touched a drop. Where’s Crealde?"

"Sleeping on my bed."

Relieved, Jess rejoined her friends. What was wrong with Sierra? Her lips were swelled like bee stings. Allergic reaction?

"What’s going on with your mouth?"

Sierra’s stretched lips grew to a wide-open, jaw-cracking smile, revealing fake vampire teeth.

Jess groaned. If her vamp friends saw this.

"Honey, they’ve seen worse." Echo said.

Jess closed her eyes. "Where’s your bracelet?" Her Nana had promised.

Echo raised her hand. "Wearing it all along. Sometimes it’s a lucky guess." She clapped to get the girls’ attention. "I have an announcement. I’ve arranged for a driver."

Driver? Which one of her grandmother’s friends would that be? "It’s not necessary. I’ll take us."

"A chauffeur? I love it," Zoey said.

"This is so awesome." Sierra pulled her phone from her bustier. "Photos. Photos. Photos. Downstairs to the porch."

Echo tapped a number into her jewel-encrusted cell phone. "Darling, can you bring the car? Splendid."

Jess opened a bottled water and gulped it down. What other little tricks did her Nana have hiding in her culottes?

Chapter Seven

Salty Sierra and Bast took selfies downstairs while Jess stayed behind, perspiration flowering under her arms.

"We do not need a chauffeur," she said, each word measured with alchemist precision.

Echo steadied on Jess’s elbow as they walked down the stairs. "You’re my granddaughter and a prestigious contest judge. This is a big deal. You must arrive in style."

The big deal would be when this was over and done. "I’m pretty sure who you called won’t get any votes for safe-driver."

"Because someone’s departed doesn’t mean they have forgotten how to drive. If that were true, a third of this town would sell their cars." Echo cackled. "Get it?"

She got it all right; though it was true. Maybe Nocturne Falls would be safer with fewer immortals behind the wheel, but Echo missed the point.

"Relax, precious. Making sure people have happy memories is the most important thing you can do. It’s how I hope I’m remembered."

"Does scaring them senseless with a ghost driver equal happiness?"

"Do they act scared?"

Sierra and Zoey took more photos, this time beside the 1955 pink Fleetwood Cadillac in the driveway. And dressed in a white jumpsuit, Elvis posed with them.

"No, but I sure wish they’d drink water." Jess pointed her jade-ringed index finger. "This one time, Nana. No more surprises while they’re here. You have to promise."

"Deal. Now go. Have fun."

Jess wrapped her arms around Echo who seemed to be growing tinier each day. "I wish you were coming with us."

"I’m getting into my PJs, finishing my lemon ginger cookies with a pot of tea, and watching "Charmed" season four CD."

*~*

When the last sunset hues waned, Nocturne Falls’ streetlights turned the town into a playful nighttime fairyland.

"I can’t believe it," Zoey said as Elvis drove down Main Street. "Is it always decorated for Halloween?"

"Yes, ma’am," Elvis said in a slow Southern drawl.

"And everyone wears costumes?" Sierra asked.

Jess smoothed her skirt. "The people in costumes are tourists." Most of the time.

Zoey and Sierra spun around shooting video.

"So, Elvis," Sierra said. "Where’s the best nightlife around here?"

His dark eyes sent a silent question to Jess who gave a tiny, quick headshake. The best club in town was Insomnia.

No law prevented humans from going to this off-the-grid spot for supers if they were with a member.

But, there might not be enough Moonbow Water on the planet to keep Zoey and Sierra from going into shock at what they’d see inside.

Think fast. These were two world-class partiers who didn’t think a whit about staying out all night. By their standards tame, but on short notice this might work.

"I bet I forgot to tell you about the after party."            

Elvis waved as he drove away. "That was the best impersonator, ever. Even a spot-on accent."

"Uh huh," Jess said. Spot-on indeed.

"He must make a fortune at parties." Zoey tied her white souvenir scarf around her neck. "And handing these out was brilliant. Does he have an act around here?"

"Not so much anymore. You could say he’s retired." Change the subject. "I’ll be with the other judges. Your seats are on the first row behind me."

"Will Elvis be at the party?" Zoey wiggled the dress over her hips for the umpteenth time. "He’s kinda cute."

Pretending not to hear, Jess waved at and talked to, anyone she could. "Great Frankenstein’s monster." "Love your Dracula cape." "You look just like a zombie."

She pressed through the noisy crowd, settled her friends into their seats, and went backstage for final instructions.

Once the judges took their places, Elenora Ellingham stepped to the microphone, thanked everyone for their support, and explained the contest.

Winners would be selected based on confidence displayed in handling their animal, and their creative incorporation of animal traits in their attire. The judges’ votes would be averaged with audience votes sent to #nocturnecharity.

Elenora asked Jess to stand as the curtain opened. Lighting transformed the plywood stage into an enchanted forest, better than Jess ever hoped. Goosebumps covered her as the crowd erupted in applause.

She scanned the audience hoping to give Ryan a thumbs-up for all his help. Instead, she locked eyes on the one scowling face in the whole crowd, Solange Ford.

*~*

With a female falcon perched on his leather glove, Ryan stood in the impromptu green room and adjusted the bird’s hood. Around him were two dozen other Nocturne Falls shifters, each with an animal. This thing better start soon or the show would take a completely different turn.

"I need to take him out," the wolf handler said.

"Make it quick. You’re fourth." Impatient, the stage manager scrolled through her computer tablet. "People. Time to line up. Where’s the cougar?"

A breathless woman in a skintight taupe leather jumpsuit slipped into the room. "Here." Her big cat strained the leash.

"Calm your animal, madam." The stage manager continued roll call. Fox, eagle, crow, baby black bear, lynx, owl, boa constrictor, and on down the list.            

"Where’s the coyote?" Frazzled, the stage manager called again. "Where are they? We start in five minutes. "

That woman’s shrill voice could split a hundred-year-old oak down the middle and did nothing to settle the animals. "They dropped out," Ryan said.            

"I wish someone had told me. Mr. Ford, you’ll take their place."

Though this falcon was used to crowds, this was a new environment. He sensed the animal’s agitation, though she was much better with the coyote gone.

Amused, he remembered how Elenora had wrapped an admonishment around her contestant reminders after the coyote’s hasty exit. ‘We simply cannot have an Ellingham event ruined by a chaotic predator and prey Armageddon. You must control your animals."

The royal ‘we.’ She and his mother had been carved from the same branch.

He still wished Connor had taken this gig. His brother was the showman; the guy who always wanted center stage. The party boy. All those traits Ryan didn’t have or want.

But, he loved how the Ellingham’s supported the Sanctuary. That made this never-ending wait tolerable. All the animals were getting restless, and the oblivious damn woman with the pacing cat was no help.

The falcon relaxed as Ryan smoothed the bird’s feathers and cooed to it. Except for cat woman, the remaining shifter-handlers knew how to settle their animals.

Trite, yet never truer; it takes one to know one.

When he heard the crowd applaud Jess Callahan, pride poured over him. She deserved every accolade.

What was his mother’s big deal? Jess left seven years ago. Nobody ‘carries a torch’ for anyone that long. He pitied any girl who carried one for Connor with two almost-weddings down, one on the tarmac.

His falcon’s talons tightened around the leather glove. "Sorry, girl." He placed his hand on the bird.

If someone would just lay a reassuring hand on him. Eating a bowl of sawdust sounded better than walking out on that stage.

After what seemed an interminable delay, the stage manager motioned him to step forward. "Ford and the falcon. Next."

From the stage wing, he made out a few faces. His mother sat with her little clique and Connor was nowhere to be seen.

No wonder his mother looked like she’d swallowed a turpentine martini. In the middle of the judges’ row sat Jess Callahan.

After the nonsense at the coffee shop, he probably put a lock on the last place on her ballot. Despite that, with Jess and his mother in the same room, this event had jettisoned to new heights. Before the night ended, he might witness a Shakespearean tragedy.

As his name was announced, he spoke softly to the falcon. "Let’s rock this place."

Chapter Eight

"Our next contestant has a three-year-old Kestrel falcon. This fully-grown female is an extraordinary ambassador for the Sanctuary. Her handler is a life-long Nocturne Falls resident, Mr. Ryan Ford."

Jess’s stomach danced a two-step. Why didn’t he tell her? She whipped through papers in her judge binder. Nowhere were the handlers identified; only the animals.

Well, duh. Who else would show a falcon?

In an admirable faked calm, she leaned into her creaky metal chair. Snagged on her smock, the binder jerked toward her and tipped on the table at a precarious angle. The slap to stop it jettisoned her pen into her lap.

Reorganizing, she mouthed apologies to the other judges and Elenora. Would anyone miss her if she dove under the table’s modesty drapes?

Wits and judge’s demeanor gathered, she focused on Ryan’s exceptional outfit. Gray, blue, and rust colored appliqued feathers interwove over the shoulders of his tweed jacket. His untucked black dress shirt hugged his torso. A mischievous lock of hair dangled over his eyes. And he’d shaved?

Had this sexy man been hiding inside Ryan all along? She wiped her hand across her forehead. Did the air conditioner quit again?

Hand shaking, she marked her ballot then gave him a sideways peek.

Words bounced around in her head. Irresistible. Attractive. Hot.

Engaged.

As he left the stage, Jess watched as the falcon closed her talons around Ryan’s glove.

He turned once more to her. Is this what a falcon’s prey feels just before the capture?

Dazed by her muddled feelings, after the Showcase ended Jess wound through the crowd on their way to the after party. Zoey detoured into the middle of handlers and animals standing next to the transport vans.

Inside the gym, Zoey caught up with Jess and Sierra. "These creatures are gorgeous," Zoey said.

"Speaking of gorgeous. Whew! Howdy Doo, the man with the falcon is way past good looking." Sierra had sidled up to them as they walked into the packed gym. "Those delicious chocolatey bedroom eyes were on you the whole time. You two got a thing?"

"I went to school with his brother." Jess fanned her skirt over her knees. Was anyone else in here smothering?

"That red face says there’s more," Sierra said. Jess spotted a galvanized tub full of ice and bottled drinks. "Just a minute."

Mustering restraint from jumping fully dressed into the ice water, she opened a lemonade letting the cool liquid quench her thirst. Time to regroup.

What flipped the switch from seeing Ryan as a nice guy to what spun in her heart?

The jacket and black shirt that embraced him like a second skin? His sharp, dark eyes that cut through her as though she was the only woman in the room?

Or had it been an act to win her vote?

Among the most desirable men in Nocturne Falls, the Fords were in a different league. They were shifters from a wealthy family and lived in the Wolf Creek gated community on the other side of town; well beyond Jess’s world.

Making sure no one watched, she slipped an ice cube down her dress.

"I’d ice down, too, if I had a man like that staring at me," Sierra said.

Jess widened her eyes and stiffened. "Who’s staring?"

"Like you can’t tell." Sierra stirred her hand around the drink tub and took a fruit punch. "The falcon guy."

Shivers rippled over Jess. Was ‘falcon guy’ gawking at her through the whole ice cube cool down?

"He’s coming this way," Sierra said.

"Stop messing with me. Why on earth would he—"

"Evening, ladies." A deep voice cut through the crowd noise and over the band.

"Well, hello there." With a smile wider than a six-lane highway, Sierra extended her hand. "I’m Sierra Everest. Jess has told me so much about you. Gotta run, but I hope to see you again. Soon."

Sierra’s Cheshire grin lingered as she slipped beyond Jess’s grasp. Good thing.

Clearing her throat, Jess summoned her perky voice. "Sorry, you didn’t win."

Ryan shook his head. "Not a problem for me. But Mother’s fit to be tied. I’m sure the Cougar won by a landslide. The handler’s costume was, well, seductive."

Jess pursed her lips to hold a giggle at how Ryan’s face had blushed. Coming from Mr. Conservative, ‘seductive’ sounded almost charming.

He looked to each side and leaned toward her. "Do your friends know about us?"

The death grip she held on the plastic bottled resulted in an embarrassing high-pitched crackle. "What about us?"

His gentle laugh that mingled with his clove and forest pine aftershave percolated some un-innocent notions of ‘us.’

"Our nether-side," he said.

Oh, that. Not us-as-a-couple, though for a fleeting second, that sounded good. Hold it. The guy has a fiancé.

And she knew better than to reveal supernaturals’ true nature to casual visitors.

"What makes you think I mentioned you?" That came out all wrong. And Sierra had already told the big lie that she had. "I mean; I don’t talk about men with them." Nobody would believe that. Time to shut her mouth and stay out of this sinkhole.

She scanned the room and realized there were more supers in here than humans. And two humans better get to drinking some water.

The super standing next to her straightened tall. Very tall. Her eyes scanned up Ryan’s chest to his face, all smiles as he—oh no—stared at her. Even if the world chanted ‘om’ right this minute, her body wouldn’t take the calming hint.

"Hello, beautiful." A raspy voice buzzed in her ear.

Jess’s reverie door slammed shut.

Ryan’s face went rock hard and reinforced her hunch; things were about to get interesting.

Chapter Nine

Once Jess would have traded her left pinkie for Connor Ford’s arm around her. After all this time, it felt wrong.

"I can’t keep my eyes off you, Your Judgeship." Connor gave her another tug. "Heard you lost, bro. That little cougar had you by a mile. So, Judge Jess, let’s catch some fresh air."

"Too stuffy in here for you, bro?" Ryan asked.

Squirming from Connor’s grip, Jess could see Ryan’s growing fury. Standing between two livid falcons was not smart.

She arced her finger in Connor’s direction. "When did this become a ‘let’s go’ moment?"

"My bad." Connor waved at someone across the room. "I’ll grab drinks and meet you in the courtyard." He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

Faster than she could process, instinct drew her hand to where his lips had touched her skin. Not sensual or loving; a quick peck. Nonetheless, a kiss.

"I’m not sure what just happened," she said.

Ryan snuffed an indignant snicker. "My brother. That’s what. You’d never guess he’s getting married soon."

His expression was more than a few notches below joyful. He directed his dark eyes into hers with the same intent focus he’d had on stage.

"Be careful," he said.

"Of what?"

"Him."

College and working in Boston taught her how to handle men a lot worse than Connor.

Though he had one little trait the others didn’t have; half falcon.

"He’s a presumptuous jerk," she hissed, forgetting she was talking about Ryan’s brother. "Sorry."

"That’s a kind way to describe him. I’ll remember that one."

He hooked the tweed jacket over his shoulder. Perspiration had sealed his shirt to his broad, muscular torso.

A long inhale quieted her heartbeat. He wouldn’t be showing off on purpose, would he? Hardly. Not this guy.

A young girl shoved between them. "Can I have your picture, Mr. Ford? I have two tickets."

Tickets. Yes. Her brilliant plan to raise money with handler photos. She’d had no inkling Ryan would be the center of teenage infatuation.

"Jess, would you mind holding my jacket?"

Ryan rolled up his sleeves; an unwitting invitation to the entire female population in the gym.

The first girl was followed by two, three, a dozen. Young girls, women in their twenties, even older, lined up and waved raffle tickets.

With no clue how elegant he looked, Ryan graciously allowed each one to have a turn, even holding their camera phones. His fiancé was a lucky girl.

Connor was another story. Dread soured her stomach. He’d marched away under the assumption she’d sashay outside and wait like a pet dog. She could use the fresh air but to go outside would signal interest. If she could get Zoey and Sierra off the dance floor, they could act as buffers.

But how would she pull them away from the two luscious men they’d managed to latch onto? If they only knew who these guys were. On second thought, they could take care of themselves. Their werewolf dance partners should be the wary ones.

Despite Connor, she needed to escape the hot gym. She’d deal with him when the time came.

The outdoor patio where she and Ryan had lunch yesterday had transformed. Fairy lights in tree branches blended into the night sky and created a starry canopy. Candles flickered in jars on each table. A magical wonderland.

She chose the farthest seat from the gym door and placed Ryan’s jacket on the bench beside her. She traced her finger around the beautifully hand-sewn feathers.

Except for one or two wolves, she’d never seen anyone in their shifted form. She couldn’t wrap her brain around what it would be like to see either brother as a falcon. It would never happen, so she might as well pitch the thought.

She ran her hand over the curls that took an hour to style, realizing humidity had flattened them against her head like plastic wrap on gelled salad. She wound her hair into an impromptu chignon and repositioned the flower.

As she fanned her neck hoping to capture the evening breeze, the seat next to her dipped under someone’s weight.

Instinctively, she moved away. She’d had all the body contact she could stand with Connor.

"This is much better. Mind if I wait here a minute?" Ryan settled his legs under the table.  

Her head whipped toward him. Under the twinkling lights, his muscular arms, covered with a hint of dark hair, sent ripples through her.

"No offense, but strutting on a stage was not fun. And I’m sorry about that paparazzi scene," he said.

"No offense taken."

He cracked a smile. "Seeing your face when I walked out on stage was the best part."

What did he mean? "Wonder where Connor is?" Though she was in no hurry to see him.

"He’s suffering a FADS attack," he said.

"What’s that?"

"Falcon attention deficit syndrome."

Jess’s laugh exploded. "You made that up. But it fits."

Ryan’s phone buzzed and he checked the message. "Doesn’t look like my brother’s making an appearance."

Had Connor’s fiancé arrived and swept him away? Or, had he run off with another woman? Don’t let it be Sierra or Zoey. For his sake, more than theirs.

"He’s heading to the emergency clinic. He slipped on spilled ice. Might have a broken wrist."

She’d hoped he’d disappear, but not something serious. "Should somebody go with him?"

Ryan kept reading his phone screen. Over the rising music volume, he nearly shouted, "Somebody’s texting on his phone. He says to stay and enjoy the party. And that he owes you a drink—" The music stopped.

"—and a dance." In the deafening silence, his words hung like icicles.

The band started a slow song, a pleasant change from the thumping stuff. The super’s sensitive ears must be rejoicing.

"If it wouldn’t be a huge disappointment, I might be a half-way decent substitute for my brother," he said.

Substitute for what? "You mean, a dance?"

Ryan unwound from his seat and held out his hand. "I may not be as smooth as the Boston men you’ve dated, but I might surprise you."

His offer was surprising enough.

“I’m not sure we should do this,” she said.

“Think my dancing is that bad?”

“Ryan, your brother told me you’re engaged.”

His hand dropped to his side. “She and I weren’t right from the start. It didn’t last six months. I don’t know why he told you that.”

Was this another game between the Ford brothers? Which version was the truth? If her heart had its way, she needed to believe Ryan.

She grasped his hand. His smile widened as he helped her stand. He nestled his hands on her lower back as she placed hers on his shoulders. When his cheek grazed her temple, current surged through her.

Giggling after a false start with her foot on his, they settled into a gentle, rhythmic sway. Graceful and effortless, he took the lead.

In his arms, the last days’ anxiety dissipated. His strong arms tightened around her and more electricity skittered up her spine.

What was happening? Had his woodsy cologne become an irresistible aphrodisiac? She flicked her jade ring remembering she was in Nocturne Falls. For all she knew, this was a magical spell. But shifters don’t cast spells.

"See the Bear Moon?" His whisper tickled her ear.

Full and bright, the sphere crested the pines. She tucked her head into his shoulder, filling her nose again with his musky scent. When his chin crossed her forehead, her body thrummed.

She should step away, but held in his comfortable embrace, she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, move. His warm breath crossed her wet lips and a craving chill ran over her. 

In an instant, his mouth was on hers; his lips testing. His tongue skimmed the soft lining inside.

Her hands slid around his neck and pulled him tight. Their kiss deepened as their tongues danced. His fingers floated up her neck, and then laced in her hair, making small circles and ratcheting her longing.

Every reason to stop evaporated like raindrops on hot pavement. Rational excuses exploded. She wanted this.

And she didn’t. How had she let this happen? The sultry night. His strong body against hers. Their mingling breath.

Wake up.

This is a shifter.

Chapter Ten

"What’s gotten into you?"

Solange Ford’s unmistakable shriek filled the air, breaking Jess and Ryan’s embrace like a pin stick in a balloon.

"Your brother is in the emergency room, and you…you are dallying with this…human." Solange spat out the word as though she’d gulped coffee grounds.

Ryan stepped between his mother and Jess as Solange moved toward them, her head framed by her open hands. "You’ve taken this too far."

Jess backed into a trash can sending it rolling across the tennis court. She had no disease on the CDC alert list. She bathed daily. She didn’t belch in public. Was she that undesirable?

No secret what the woman meant. A non-shifter didn’t meet Ford standards. Same old story. Prejudice still choked people like Solange. What a blessing to go away to college and live in a mostly human world.

Solange waved her hand in Jess’s direction. "Miss Callahan, I suggest you go before anyone sees you."

"You’re the one who should leave, Mother."

Jess’s rage seethed. She’d been swayed by the moment; the moonlight; the nearness of this man. But she wouldn’t take any crap from Solange Ford.

"I’ll leave. But not because you dispatched me. I spent the last week working my tail off. I’m dead tired. And I don’t need a dime’s more of your family feud."

"Jess, wait," Ryan called.

Marching into the gym, she halted halfway to the exit. With a disgusted groan, she remembered Elvis brought them here. She’d have to call him for a ride home.

"Jess." Ryan had followed her.

Where were Sierra and Zoey? She had to get out of here before he sugar-coated Solange’s conniption.

Jess flinched as he touched her arm. She cast furtive glances, hoping no one was watching them.

"She was way off base," he said.

If he thought she’d answer, he had a long wait. Her voice hitched, competing with trapped sobs she would not allow to escape. Shaking her head was all she could manage.

"I’ll call you tomorrow. We’ll straighten all this out," Ryan said, his voice glazed with regret.

Still unable to speak in coherent sentences, Jess waved him away. Any bud between them that tried to bloom had yielded to Solange’s knife.

Ryan’s words faded into the crowd as she made her way to the serving table where Zoey and Sierra were drinking syrupy fruit punch. A shame this party was alcohol-free. Jess could use a stiff drink.

"He’s more adorable up close than on stage," Zoey said.

"Who?" Jess asked.

"Give me a break. Falcon guy," Zoey said.

"He looked like he could eat you like a candy bar." Sierra scanned Jess’s hair. "Maybe he did."

Jess tucked a curl behind her ear, realizing half her hair had fallen out of the chignon. And the silly flower was gone; probably squashed under Solange’s foot.

Should she give Ryan a chance to explain? She peeked over her shoulder, but he was gone.

"I knew him and his brother at Harmswood." Jess rewound her hair.

"No wonder that’s all you talked about your whole freshman year," Zoey said.

They had the brothers mixed up but why bother telling them. Her gut was still taut after Solange’s tirade. Though neither Ford meant anything to her, there was some satisfaction that both noticed her tonight. And had kissed her.

"Conner seems like a real player," Sierra said.

"I didn’t think that at all," Zoey said. "He’s hot if you ask me."

Sierra sputtered her drink. "You’re kidding. He eye-groped every woman in the place, even after he landed on the floor."

"Like you weren’t sizing up men," Zoey said.

"Connor’s the one I had the crush on," Jess said, though the other women didn’t hear.

For the short moment, when she caught Connor’s eye at Harmswood, there’d been rumblings that Solange planned to cause trouble.

Two innocent dates and Solange had browbeaten Connor so that a third never happened. Nothing had changed. Solange still had her talons in her sons.

For too long, Jess road a guilt pony. Not rich, cute, or smart enough. Crazy nonsense.

"So what about falcon guy?" Sierra primped her hair. "Is he yours?"

Protective jealousy pricked her. Why? Ryan was not ‘hers’.

If Sierra, the cultured ambassador’s daughter who grew up in Europe, and thought Boston was unsophisticated, wanted to chase after a falcon-shifter from North Georgia, then by all means.

Solange would be on that like a fly on a gooseberry pie. What fun to watch from a far distant galaxy.

"Knock yourself out," Jess said.

Sierra, the feminist pirate, slinked toward the courtyard; each step calculated like a cat after a robin. Except she was stalking the fastest predator bird on earth.

"Well, the girl still has the moves," Zoey said.

Jess spun the jade ring with a notion to slip it off and glimpse the scene ahead. She shouldn’t let this happen to a friend. Ryan, on the other hand, deserved it.

"Let’s grab some water. I have a feeling we’ll be waiting," Zoey said.

Water at last. "Don’t move a muscle."

In the front courtyard, Zoey sipped her water as she wiggled the gold dress down. "This wasn’t the best costume. Next time, talk sense into me."

Jess was the least qualified to talk sense into anyone after letting Ryan kiss her.

Sierra rejoined them, Ryan’s tweed jacket slung over her shoulder like a souvenir. She grabbed Jess’s water and took a long drink. Amen and amen.

"Take the rest," Jess said.

"You didn’t stay long," Zoey said.

“Nothing out there but crickets.” Sierra handed the jacket to Jess.

A lot had happened in seven years. Moving away. College. Dream job. Losing dream job. Breaking off two almost serious relationships. Moving home.

Being in Ryan Ford’s arms.

Solange might be right.

What had gotten into her?

Chapter Eleven

Ryan’s blood had reached boiling by the time he arrived home. His mother’s Jag was parked in the drive; the hood still warm.

So, the holier-than-thou woman hadn’t flown to Connor’s bedside. His head pounded like a bass drum.

If he didn’t get under control soon, he’d complete the change that started at Harmswood.

Aligned just below the surface, feathers threatened to penetrate his skin like sharp bayonets.

By sheer will, he reversed the emerging beak and talons. He would not give his mother the satisfaction of defeating him. He would not shift.

It wasn’t his fault that his mother played the lonely widow game to the hilt and took it out on her sons.

He, and Connor to some degree tried to cut her slack. But she’s not the only one who missed their father.

He shook with resentment and contempt. Connor could slide in and out of falcon and felt nothing but a quick rush.

Ryan felt everything.

He had inherited his father’s gene to change in slow, painful stages during anger shifts that took hours to reverse, and left him exhausted and lethargic for the next day.

This was no time to be incapacitated. But remembering how his mother had driven Jess away, control was impossible.

If he thought about something pleasant, he could reverse the shift.

He steered his attention to Jess Callahan. Beautiful, smart, and all woman. He’d been entranced. Her body snuggled against his. Her flowery perfume. How he had lost himself in her arms. Their comfortable, natural kiss.

What would it be like to have her in his bed? Her hair floating over her shoulders; one graceful arm draped over his chest. Their bodies coiled after making love.

Pain from the aborted shift finally subsided, leaving him aching to hold Jess again.

After mommy dearest’s performance, Jess would be wise to run from any Ford that crossed her path.

His rage fading, he walked through the carved walnut front door and straight to the living room.                        

Bourbon-primed for another battle, Solange sat on a green velvet settee and tilted her crystal glass in his direction. "Join me?"

He waved off the drink and took a seat in his father’s leather recliner.

"I can forgive this one dalliance, but I never want to see you cavorting like that with her ever again," she said.

"You make her sound like a cheap whore."

"I asked you to keep her away from Connor. I didn’t mean for you to go to bed with her."

"What the hell are you talking about? It was a kiss." How could she talk about Jess like she was dirt? He had to be careful. Control the anger.

"And Melanie?"

Figures she would throw that in his face. Time to take his brother’s advice.

"There’s no more Melanie."

Her smug sneer peeled from her face. "What are you talking about? She’s from a wonderful family."

"No engagement. No wedding." Lead chains unlocked their hold around his chest.

"After this blows over, I’m sure you’ll see Melanie is the right woman who’ll bear you fine offspring. Her family is well-connected."

Pity replaced his anger as the woman simpered.

"You should hear yourself. And nothing you can say will change things. It’s over.”

Fighting the shift left his head woozy, and his body drained. Had she tried to force his change to prove her point? Even Solange wouldn’t stoop that low. Or would she? 

He left her for the solitude of his workshop. He kept the lights off so moonlight could shine on the stallion.

If the Fareed invitation still held, he’d accept. Though it didn’t match the winged freedom of soaring above the trees, a private jet ride to Dubai was tempting.

When, and if, he returned, he’d move the studio. He could go anywhere.

But he sure the hell wasn’t staying in Nocturne Falls.

*~*

Echo brewed tea while Jess set out two cups. "You’ve been in this funk for three days. No wonder your friends went exploring on their own."

"I’ve been a fool," Jess said.

"Only if you take Solange seriously. Her nose has been in the air since I first met her."

Solange’s words had stung for a while. It was Ryan that Jess couldn’t cut loose from her thoughts.

"How can Ryan or Connor stand living with her. One thing’s certain, I realize how lucky I am to live with you, Nana. I’m not sure what I would have done."

"Precious, you’re a strong woman who can stand on her own. It’s been delightful to have you back."

The women drank their tea in peace, except for Crealde snoring at Echo’s feet. Jess inspected the tea leaves that had settled in her cup.

She’d hedged for weeks on the tough conversation with her grandmother. Some reasons were legitimate. Repairs. Festival. Zoey and Sierra.

Most were not.

Her new job was around the corner. It could be in a week. Or a month. But Nana could no longer stay by herself. Upkeep. Maintenance. Running the shop.

"Let those worries go." Echo twirled the pearl cuff on the table.

Ice crystals formed in Jess’s veins. "How long has that been off?"

Echo set her eyeglasses next to the bracelet. If the wisdom in her eyes could be bottled, they’d be rich. "I’ve made arrangements."

Jess sprang from her chair. What arrangements? Was she hiding something? Was she sick?

"Oh, sit down. I’m fit as a fiddle, but not blind to the fact that I’m getting older, or that you’re obsessed with my future. In due time this will all fall into place. You’ll see. Now then, another cup?"

Echo’s answer to any problem was tea. "You know the answer already."

In a convoluted way, Solange did her a service, though the woman’s bluster about class and status was bogus, and all in Solange’s head.

At the least, she owed Ryan, and herself, a chance to part as friends. In a weak moment, neither had used good judgment, though he was a damn good kisser. But it meant swallowing pride and taking the first step.

"Finish your tea and go talk to him. I’ll entertain Zoey and Sierra." Echo took the little wooden box from the drawer and shuffled the card deck.

"Nana, you aren’t planning what I think?"

Echo angled her head and teased a grin.

Chapter Twelve

Getting to the exclusive Wolf Creek shifters-only community was easy. Getting past the electronic gate? Not so much.

Jess pulled her car to a stop a few feet from the entrance and waited. She could, and probably should call Ryan to let her in. Even if she had his phone number, he wouldn’t pick up if he saw her name on caller ID.

If she got through the gate, there was no guarantee he was even home. Misgivings rained over her. How stupid to stalk the guy like a high school groupie.

And how would she break the ice? ‘Hey, there. In the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by and say hello.’ And when he threw her out on her butt?

If he wasn’t home, she could say she tried to mend fences. Fences. Gates. Now or never.

When the first vehicle pulled up, she counted the seconds it took for the gate to activate, swing open and shut once the car passed. If she picked the right one, she might be able to draft through. The gate barely closed without hitting the slow pokes.

She needed to follow something small and fast. Something like the Harley she saw in the rearview mirror. If they were coming in here, that is. In case this was her break, she started the engine and put the car in gear.

The woman slowed the motorcycle to a stop at the Wolf Creek entrance and tapped a button on their bike. Shazamobam!

The gate glided open and the rider accelerated through the narrow space. Plenty room behind.

She seized the moment and gunned the gas. Incredible luck. But they should do something about that potential security flaw. Some other day.

Her GPS led her to the Ford address. Parked in front, she sat for a few minutes, rounding up courage. Like Crealde with a lizard, the chase was fun. What to do with the catch?

After pumping up her nerve, she walked to the arch over the driveway entrance. Perched on the end columns, cameras glared like twin cyclops.

She could imagine Solange sipping a drink, entertained by the security feed; her finger hovering over a switch that activated a larger-than-life bug zapper to destroy unwanted guests.

Passing through the gate, Jess flipped the bird to the cameras. Zap this.

Immaculate and manicured, the grounds were a vast difference from her grandmother’s jumbled herb and flower garden. Where Echo’s was eclectic and welcomed all, the Ford garden reeked of look-but-don’t-touch. And it was eerily quiet. Not a sound anywhere except her own disembodied footsteps.

Jess halted where the driveway split. One way led to the front door. The other, to the garage where she’d heard Ryan had a workshop.

Covered in doubt, Jess couldn’t take another step. What had she been thinking sneaking around like a thief? The brilliant shine on her peacemaking plan tarnished to a flat gray.     

Appearing from nowhere, a half dozen butterflies spun and fluttered around her, circling so close she felt a breeze from their wings. To her delight, two landed on her hand for an instant, then took flight toward the street.

If she could believe the stories she’d heard as a child, butterflies meant angels were close. Good timing. Her stomach stood ready to launch.

So far, the angelic protection worked. No one had loosed lethal, spike-collared dogs. No armed, camouflaged soldiers jumped out from the hedge.

She scanned the house. No green-eyed monster peered from a second story window, though she sensed a foreboding vibe. Nonsense. How could a house have a vibe? Stress was anteing up its game.

She squared her shoulders and saluted the sky. "Thanks, team. If you have a few minutes, would it be a problem to hang around a little longer?"

*~*

From his window, Ryan watched in disbelief. How had Jess Callahan gotten this far into the estate?

In the sunlight, her hair shined like copper threads. Seeing her surrounded by butterflies nailed it. She was too pure for this dysfunctional family.

The skinny little wallflower had grown into an incredibly attractive woman. His mother was right. Jess had no business being associated with the Fords, but not for Solange’s reasons.

So, what brought her here? He wiped his hands on a rag. Was she here for another go at his mother?

A sports car’s whirring engine grew louder as it came down the driveway. His brother’s timing never ceased to amaze.

Connor leaned against his Porsche, talking to Jess, probably milking his injury for all it was worth.

Keep going, Connor. Play the last sympathy card. Jess had too much class to kiss and tell. On the other hand, seeing Connor’s face when he found out about their kiss? Worth a million.

Holy bloody Sunday.

Connor had touched his lips to Jess’s wrist.

Ryan’s neck arteries bounded as he threw the shop towel on the floor. He stormed out the door, then slowed to a saunter. What’s the rush?

The woman had the right to talk with any man she wished. Nothing bound them as a couple. Their moonlight kiss had been an impulse.

Ryan summoned his ‘hello friend’ voice. "Morning."

The three exchanged greetings, though Connor’s eyes never strayed from Jess. Not a good omen.

"A little far from town, aren’t you? I suppose you were just in the neighborhood?" Ryan asked.

Jess’s eyes darted between the brothers. "Something like that."

"I invited her to tour Mother’s home. Not every day you see a house decorated like a sixties’ vampire movie set," Connor said.

"And I told him I’d pass," she said.

"Wise move. Would you like to see my studio?" He winced. What woman would buy that ‘come up and see my paintings’ line?

"I’m sure she’ll love schlepping around in a wood pile," Connor scoffed.

"Don’t start." Ryan’s hair bristled.

"Bro, I just meant—"

"Whoa, guys." Jess moved out of the way. "Perhaps I should let you two fight it out?"

Once again, Connor had baited him. And like a fool, he’d bit the hook. Another Ford skirmish. There would be no full-scale battle today.

He watched Jess take the arms-across-her-chest stance he remembered from the gym. The glance she sliced between him and Connor underlined her impatience.

He cast his brother an iron warning.

"What did I do?" Connor asked.

No sense waiting for the apology that would never come from Connor’s mouth.

"I came here to see your shop, Ryan. I hear you’re quite a wood crafter. You must have thought I was pretty stupid that day in the gym," Jess said.

Stupid? Never. But it was hard to believe that she came here to see where he worked.

Conner threw his key fob in the air and caught it.

"Umm. Anybody know why Mother’s on a rampage? Nothing to do with that party, is it?"

"Why do you say that?" A noticeable squeak strangled Jess’s voice.

Connor rolled his eyes in pretended amazement. "Come on. Every supernatural at the party heard her. Our mother is unaccustomed to obeying inside voice rules. It’s all over town what happened. Too bad I missed the show."

Ryan had played the semi-hermit since the Showcase. Either Connor knew something, or he was bluffing.

"Knows what happened?" Jess’s peaches and cream complexion went tomato red.

Connor raised his casted arm. "Hey, I was in the ER, remember?"

Could Connor jack-hammer his last nerve any harder? "You have something to say, say it,” Ryan said.

"Oh, my wounded arm. But if you insist. The story is you two found a cozy dance floor all to yourselves. And dear Mama caught you in a little lip lock. To have been a mouse under the table."

The sinews in Ryan’s neck steeled. "I think it’s time you left."

"Have fun, you two." Connor gave a sharp salute and went inside the main house.

Speechless like the concrete gargoyles downtown, Jess and Ryan stood silent.

Finally breaking the stillness, Jess said, "That was lovely."

Lovely wasn’t the word on the tip of Ryan’s tongue. Curses rolled in his head, none he could repeat aloud.

"Glad you can’t read my mind," he said, hoping she didn’t. Did her reassuring smile mean she can’t, or she could? "After all that, you did make the trek out here. What was your plan?"

"Mostly, to apologize for running out on you," she said. Her cheeks had lightened from red to pink.

"My mother’s the one who owes an apology. She wears prejudice like a badge."

"If that had happened seven years ago, I’d be hiding in a cave by the falls. I’m not a mousy little kid any longer. Solange proved that."

How could Jess be so generous. "You owe no apology."

"Perhaps. But I do want to see your studio."

Afternoon sunlight cast a spotlight on the magnificent wooden horse, polished to a marble shine. Every detail was seamless. Alive.

His voice tinged with sadness, Ryan explained it was commissioned and would ship next week.

"You don’t want to let him go, do you?" She asked.

"Sometimes releasing something you love is the only option."

Chapter Thirteen

Spiders crawled up Jess’s spine. Ryan didn’t mean loving a stallion. Time to straighten things out before they stumbled into quicksand.

Fingers interlaced behind her, she edged to the front door with an eye to an escape route. "I need to talk to you about something else."

"No need." He fiddled with his tools. "The kiss shouldn’t have happened."

Of all the things he could have said, that? Shouldn’t have happened? "Why not?" She popped her palm over her mouth. Uh. Oh.

His hands froze over his workbench. "What did you say?"

Her eyes darted around the room’s four corners then froze on a door that was slightly ajar; a bedroom. Coming here may have been a huge mistake. But around him again, her anger dissipated and in its place, desire.

He coaxed her arms forward. "After further consideration, why not, indeed?"

With a gentle touch, he ran his hands up her arms and pulled her close. Then he glided his fingers along her jaws, softly tilting her head toward his. His lips grazed hers. Questioning. Wanting more.

Though her hands found their way around his neck, his hunger challenged her common sense. If she gave in, any caution messages from the universe would be forever silenced.

If…His lips sealed over hers.

She…Their tongues played.

Gave in…A guttural moan rose from his chest.

Jess broke the kiss. "Wait. We have to stop."

Eyes half shut, Ryan complied but didn’t release her. "What’s wrong?"

That was just it. Nothing was wrong. Jess had built a case for apologizing to Ryan. The plan was to say good-bye, not to be in his arms again.

Every automatic piston in her body had fired. Her breasts had swelled against his chest. A heaviness between her legs cried for relief. And his growing need responded.

"Jess." 

His deep voice wrapped around her like a warm comforter. She rested her forehead against him as he rubbed small circles on her back.

After a long moment, he asked, "Is it because I’m a shifter?"

She wanted to shout ‘no’ to him; to the world; to herself. The truth was, she couldn’t.

"Maybe," she whispered.

"What am I right now?"

"A man." Fully human, gorgeous, and handsome.

His hand ran down her thigh, paused, then lifted her leg to his hip. She raised the other leg, locking her feet around him.

With a firm grip on her bottom, Ryan carried her to his apartment threshold where they interrupted their kiss, both panting as his eyes searched hers for indecision.

She pulled him close, sealed her lips on his, as he kicked open the door.

*~*

While Ryan took a business call, Jess waited outside on the small brick patio. She traced the filigreed pattern on a wrought iron table; every curve matched her twisting thoughts.

The plan had been to strike a peace deal so she wouldn’t have to duck around corners every time she saw him.

Instead, she’d gone willingly to his bed and didn’t regret a moment. She’d never forget this day. Nor would her lips, swollen from their kisses. 

Or how her skin prickled where he had caressed her body, or how firm and full he felt inside her.

With the afterglow fading, she realized they acted like crazed teenagers, and that she’d made love to a falcon shifter.

But the afternoon brought it home how she’d obsessed on the wrong brother. She wanted to laugh, but remembered the Ford estate wasn’t a place where laughter seemed welcome.

Shadows lengthened and shaded the little patio. She checked the time and messages on her phone. Though they skipped lunch, their appetite had been more than satisfied.

Another car on the driveway caught her ear. It wasn’t Connor’s.

Solange slammed her car door. "I should have guessed that rattle trap parked on the street would belong to somebody like you."

"What the hell’s your problem, Mother?"

Jess jumped at Ryan’s booming voice behind her. ‘What now?’ she mouthed as Ryan slipped his arm around her.

"What is that woman doing here?" Solange sputtered.

"My guest."

"And why?" Solange asked.

Jess waited for his reply. This better be good.

"Special delivery from Carpe Diem," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

"What could they possibly have in that little shabbytique that we could use?"

Shabbytique? The Carpe Diem?

Solange didn’t miss a beat. "What were you and that little wench up to?"

Jess’s stomach twisted. Fists tight by her side, she stepped toward the old bat. Or falcon. Whatever she was, she had a Texas-sized bug up her behind, and Jess meant to shove it higher.

Ryan’s grip on her arm saved her from assault and battery. "My guests are not your concern," he said.

Ignoring Jess as though she was an ivy-filled urn along the driveway, Solange barked, "This plan has gone completely wrong. I am so disappointed in you, Ryan."

Jess cut a glance at Ryan, who still gripped her arm.

"Mother, this is not the right time."

Solange’s eyelids narrowed as she looked down her nose.

Jess wiggled from Ryan’s grip. "Right time for what?" This was all too bizarre. "And in case you missed the news bulletin, Solange, the wench you’re talking about is standing here."

"Fine. It will be much easier to hear this from me," Solange said.

Though the temperature still hovered in the nineties, Solange’s dark stare sent a frigid blast through Jess. Ryan reached for Jess again, but she stepped away, uncertain who to trust.

Solange stood tall and jutted her chest. "Connor is getting married in a few weeks to a delightful girl. We didn’t want him unnecessarily distracted. I asked Ryan to help keep you away from Connor, though he took it too far."

Ryan had done well on his assignment. "So I was a problem to be dealt with." Solange had used a sophisticated tactic and quite effective. Ryan had risen to the occasion and knocked Connor right off the radar. "I have to hand it to you both. What an elaborate scheme."

Jess was half-way down the driveway before Ryan caught up with her.

"I never agreed to her plan. If anything, I wanted to keep Connor from hurting you again," he said.

Jess kicked a pebble into the bushes. How dare this little rock try to escape from Solange’s thorny rose bed?

Solange was a master at manipulation and wasn’t above pitting her sons against each other. Maybe the apples didn’t fall far from the tree.

He’d showered her with politeness, tenderness, and sincerity. Part of an act?

She snapped her gaze to Ryan. "Thanks for your sacrifice. Hope it wasn’t too painful."

"Cut it out, Jess. What happened between us was, and still is, from my heart."

But after all, Ryan Ford was a shifter. For him, changing between stranger and lover might be as simple as turning from man to falcon.

"And I opened my heart to yours. For the last time."

Chapter Fourteen

Jess threw her car keys across the kitchen counter and watched as they slid over the edge and into Crealde’s food dish.

Strung along by a mother and son collusion. Why didn’t she see through this before now? Those Ford con artists didn’t deserve her anger, but they were getting a dose anyway.

They weren’t going to drag her down. Her smartest decision had been to move away from Nocturne Falls and people like Solange. The sooner she left again, the better.

"What on earth is wrong?" Echo asked.

Bile spun up her throat as she cleaned up kibble. "I suspect you know."

Echo raised her arm to show her cuff bracelet. "I had clients all day. Would you like some tea and we can talk?"

Jess heaved a sigh, pulled a chair from the table, and displaced Crealde. With a disgusted growl, he thumped to the floor.

Everywhere she went today she stirred up disaster.

Neither spoke while lemon balm tea brewed in one of Echo’s twenty-six teapots.

So many Nana talks at this table, long before Jess knew what her grandmother’s gift was. Or her own.

"Precious, you seem a million miles away," Echo said.

If only she were.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened?" Echo asked.

Was the story worth telling? She’d already replayed it a thousand times since she left the Ford estate; every time the ending was the same. She took another sip of the aromatic tea. "How have you managed to survive in this town?"

"Whoa. Wait just a minute. We don’t have pointy ears, or the ability to live in the water, or retractable fangs, or whatever. But our remarkable gifts rival anyone. Is it time to break out the party hats?"

Nana threw the first pity party one afternoon when Jess came home from school, teary eyed after a snubbing from one of the ‘rich girls.’

They’d worn paper hats, drank root beer, and ate lemon ginger cookies all afternoon. By bedtime, she’d forgotten all about the spiteful school bullies.

"I’ll be fine," Jess said.

"I’m about ready to take this bracelet off, so you better start talking."

Jess’s heart pinched to see the woman’s pixie face in mock anger. She refused to think about the day she wouldn’t be farther away than a text message.

Without the cuff, Nana could read every thought, including lovemaking with Ryan Ford. Not ready for that.

"I can’t tell if I’m enraged or outraged," Jess said.

Echo roiled a laugh. "All the same coin. Zoey and Sierra borrowed my truck and drove out to the Sanctuary but they’ll be home any minute. My advice? Get your pretty selves dressed up and go out on the town."

How would skull-quaking music in an airless nightclub fix anything after a long afternoon in Ryan’s arms? And a disgusting joust with Solange.

But what would they do here? Have a mani-pedi marathon and watch Nana’s ‘Charmed’ CDs?

As she started to her bathroom for a hot bath, Jess remembered the cards and Zoey and Sierra. "Did they have a reading?"

Echo finished her tea and dabbed her lips with a napkin. "I can’t violate client confidentiality."

And there was her answer.

*~*

Zoey adjusted her off-the-shoulder hot-pink top. "Is this too much skin?"

Sierra layered eyeshadow. "Depends on your objective. No shoulder; no interest. One shoulder; maybe, maybe not."

Jess sat cross-legged on her bed. Not quite up for this, she had elected for simplicity; black leggings, flats and a silk blouse that floated over her halter top. A touch of lipstick and a splash of mascara. Maybe her friends could party after making love, but Jess was having second, third and sixteenth thoughts. But it might be time to take a lesson from them and get this behind her.

Sierra pointed her eyeshadow brush toward Zoey. "And remember what showing both means?"

Zoey pulled the blouse over her shoulders. "Forget that."

Jess warily straightened her blouse higher, too.

"Too bad Elvis can’t take us," Sierra said as the three women crammed into Jess’s tiny car. "His Cadillac was awesome."

"At the Sanctuary I heard somebody talking about Insomnia," Zoey said.

Jess had hoped they’d never bring that up. However, after Nana’s pep talk, Jess appreciated that her supernatural ability was as good as anyone’s. About time she asserted herself around this town before she left.

If anyone even thought about asking why they should be allowed inside, Jess could remove her ring and manifest a little picture in their honor. One or two visions and they’d be set.

No. She couldn’t dishonor her grandmother by using the gift as a trick.

She’d let her Insomnia membership expire years ago. "If there’s a line, we can always go somewhere else."

"Whoohoo. Barhopping like the old days," Sierra said.

If, and a big if, they got past the bouncer, what then? Members were not costumed theme park employees. These were breathing and living supers having fun in their own watering hole.

Water. She had to convince them to drink more water.

*~*

Jess parked on the industrial side of town and found a spot a block from the building.

"Where are we?" Zoey hunkered down in her seat. "That sign says Caldwell Manufacturing."

"You wanted Insomnia. Well, we’re here." Jess needed to clamp the attitude. It wasn’t her friends’ fault she’d hopped into bed with a falcon. 

Zoey and Sierra huddled behind her as Jess tapped the code, grateful she still remembered it and that it hadn’t changed. They went through the first door, past unmanned equipment, to a freight elevator.

"This can’t be right. Shouldn’t we hear some music or something?" Sierra cautiously peered around. "Are you pranking us?"

Jess pressed the elevator button, the door opened, and she stepped inside, alone.

"What’s the problem? Scared?"

"Nope," Sierra and Zoey said in unison.

Jess was nervous enough for all three. "Then get in."

In the basement, the elevator door opened to the lobby and just beyond, dance music, and wall-to-wall supers. And no crowd and no line.

Zoey and Sierra, smiles wide as the Mississippi River, were about to get their wish. And Jess was about to be sick.

Chapter Fifteen

One giant obstacle; the bouncer was a man Jess didn’t recognize. The size of a double-door refrigerator, he sat on a stool, meaty arms crossed. Likely he was one of the town’s gargoyles hired to enforce the club rules.

"Ladies, your ID." The man’s voice boomed over the music.

Each produced a card. "These are all out of state. Who’s the club member with you?"

Jess wiggled her finger for him to bend closer. "I’m staying with my grandmother. We own the Carpe Diem. I grew up here and went to the Academy. These are friends from college. I promised to show them our nightlife."

Her explanation didn’t register. "I’m not sure this is the right place for you," he said.

Like she didn’t know who came here. If she pushed and outed herself, no telling what her friends would do.

Sierra strutted toward him. "Let me handle this."

Jess grabbed her arm. "Uh, no. There are other places." Embarrassment bathed her. This guy was no match, even for Sierra.

"Is there a problem, Nick? These beautiful women are with me."

Someone held Jess’s elbow. She whipped her head toward the source putting her nose-to-nose with Connor Ford’s killer smile.

He leaned close to Jess. "Never thought I’d see you here."

Never thought she’d be here.

Sierra hooked her arm around Connor’s and saluted the bouncer as they passed him.

Inside, Jess took three water bottles from a bin by the door. "Remember our old rule? First drink of the night, water."

Connor led them to the VIP section then ordered drinks from the server.

"Amazing. You snagged Connor just like that. Well done," Sierra whispered in Jess’s ear.

Right. Well done. She’d vowed never to have another thing to do with a Ford. And what happens? She ‘snags’ one. Staying home and painting her toenails had never appealed more than right now.

After a few minutes, the server returned with a bottle of white wine and filled their glasses.

Connor raised a toast. "Ladies, may the moon never catch you crying."

"This place is unreal," Zoey said as she sipped her wine. "People look like they jumped right out of a fantasy movie."

Real, unreal and fantasy were just differing perspectives in the Insomnia.

"Get out and dance," Connor said. "In this crowd, nobody cares if you have a partner or not."

"Come on," Zoey said as she tugged on her friends.

"Thanks, but I’ll sit this one out," Jess said.

As the girls disappeared onto the dance floor, Connor scooted close. "So, you recovered?"

Ice flash. From what? Making love to his brother? She eased away from him.

"I heard the whole thing in the driveway," Connor said. "Quite a scheme to keep us apart."

"She had a willing accomplice."

"Mother has a thing about mixing humans and shifters."

"She has a point. It wouldn’t work."

"That’s where you’re wrong. And did I mention you look beautiful? How about the dance I owe you? If I’m right, our last one was in the Harmswood gym. That would be how many years ago?"

Well, that would be after college and three years in a job. They were in high school. "Somewhere around nine years and six months." But who’s counting?

Connor stood, made a bow and offered his hand. "May I?"

"I don’t do bump and grind."

"We’ll take it slow." He pulled Jess toward him.

"To club music?" Though it was low volume to accommodate the supers’ sensitivity to anything loud, it was still high energy. Tonight, Jess was a low energy girl.

Overpowering, the scents of his cologne mixed with expensive leather car interior competed for oxygen. As his hands slid around her waist, she wondered what to do with hers. Place them on his shoulders? His back? Or let them dangle like noodles at her side?

If this was Ryan, she’d have known exactly where she wanted to hold him. But Connor?

Though he schmoozed her into this, it brought everything full circle. All these years wondering what it would have been like to be in his arms.

And now she knew. It left her flat.

*~*

Irish stout was meant to be sipped and savored, not chugged the way Ryan consumed it tonight.

On his second pint, he watched the foamy surge that was taking too much time to settle. Too much time for regrets.

After today, would he ever have a chance with the feisty woman who drove him over the brink? Unlikely. He ran his fingers down the pint glass, remembering how smooth Jess’s skin had been under his touch. How she’d responded and given herself to him.

The one positive thing from this debacle, the private jet to Dubai sounded better and better.

"Don’t look now, but Connor just blew in," the bartender said. "And you won’t believe this. He took three women with him to the VIP section."

Connor’s favorite spot. But three women? Ryan bet none was his brother’s fiancé.

As the DJ switched to full-blown trance dance, the crowd went into a frenzy. Great for Connor, but hellacious for Ryan who preferred peace and quiet.

His head throbbed as he watched the dancers gyrate like ghosts under the club’s subdued light.

Among the arm-waving fanatics, Connor was slow-dancing. His old trick to throw women off their game. This man could never settle down with one woman. What was their mother thinking?

He paid his bar tab and wormed his way toward the door. One final look toward the dance floor convinced him he’d outgrown this lifestyle. Chalk up another lesson learned.

Have a nice time, Connor and whomever you’re dancing with tonight.

Through an opening between the revelers, he saw Connor spin and dip his partner.

As people jostled around Ryan, the bouncer asked, "Ford, you coming or going?"

At this moment, he had no answer.

The ‘whomever’ dancing with his brother was the red-haired Jess Callahan.

*~*

Connor Ford had been her life’s crush. But all Jess could think about was Ryan. His kiss. His strong arms holding her during their tender lovemaking. She wanted to believe that was real and not some charade to help his mother with her ridiculous ‘plan.’  

The music switched to something even more obnoxious.

"Mind if we sit down?" Jess asked.

At their table, Connor raised the wine bottle. "There’s a little left."

"No, thanks." The first glass wasn’t playing nice with her stomach after Connor’s dramatic spin.

"Would you do me a favor?" She asked.

"Anything."

"I don’t feel well." Zoey and Sierra were winding their way to the table.

"Can you drive my friends home? I don’t want their night to end because of me. They leave the day after tomorrow."

A sly smile crossed Connor’s lips. "No problem. You okay to drive home?"

"Yes, but Conner, these women are regular humans. Remember that."

"I got this," he said.

Amid veiled protests, Zoey and Sierra agreed to stay.

Once home, Jess changed into her sleep shirt, wiped away make-up and any trace of the Fords.

One last look at her phone. A message from the headhunter.

She read it twice.

A job. A real job.

In Boston.

She could finally leave Nocturne Falls.

That was a good thing. Yes?

Chapter Sixteen

No better way to combat stress than salted caramel ice cream. Jess had slurped through half the pint. Self-control told her to save some for later. But why? Would she gain ten pounds from the last three bites?

Why make excuses? Not the most nutritious dinner, but good. It had been a long day.

After breakfast, Zoey and Sierra and Jess had hugged, cried, and vowed to meet again before another three years passed. She missed them more than she’d imagined. The week had gone by too fast. And the house seemed so empty and quiet.

She’d spent the last hour in a phone interview then had booked a flight to Boston for her on-site interview. If all went well, her first day was in three weeks, and a thousand miles away from Nocturne Falls.

She’d almost started fantasizing a life here, and for a few minutes, a life with Ryan Ford. Middle school daydreams. A clear sign it was time to move on.

A hundred minutiae. She’d have to find a new apartment somewhere on the Boston outskirts. She didn’t relish two hours a day on a train, but she couldn’t afford downtown, even though the new salary was twice what she’d made before.

But this meant leaving her grandmother. She could move to Boston and be with her. But Echo Stargazer anywhere else than in Nocturne Falls?

And where was her grandmother? She didn’t mention any appointments or errands this morning after Zoey and Sierra left. It wasn’t like her to be out this late in the afternoon.

"Jess, can you come down here? Closing time and we aren’t supposed to cash out the registers." A store clerk’s voice drifted up the staircase.

She tossed the empty ice cream carton into the recycle bin. "Be right down."

Jess flipped the Carpe Diem closed sign and locked the front door. Concern building, she scanned her text messages. Nothing. Another call to her grandmother’s cell went to voicemail.

Still daylight for a few hours. Maybe she’d gone into the woods for a personal meditation retreat.

Even with Jess’s lectures about traipsing out by herself, which Echo tended to ignore, it wasn’t like her to disappear and not tell someone.

She paced the apartment from one end to the other, ending in the kitchen. Crealde knocked his food dish into the cabinet.

"Damn it. Don’t spook me like that."

A soulful meow accompanied his brush at Jess’s ankles. "I’m sorry, buddy. You’re worried, too. And it’s your dinner time. Where is she, cat?"

She didn’t expect an answer, even in this town.

She fed Crealde then spread wrinkles from the tablecloth where everyday people would sit slack-jawed while those little pictures appeared on Echo’s cards.

A sudden hint of patchouli wafted around her. Where was that coming from? Nothing was left burning downstairs.

Something lingered from another time; though it seemed fresh.

If her grandmother didn’t call or come home in the next few minutes, Jess would have to call the sheriff. What would she tell him?

She hadn’t seen her grandmother since breakfast.

No phone messages.

Yes. She’d called Echo’s friends.

No. Echo didn’t keep a calendar.

Wandering through their rooms for the tenth time, Jess halted at her grandmother’s bedroom door.

As big as life, smoke rose from three incense sticks standing upright in a glass jar on Echo’s dresser.

She’d looked in this room not ten minutes ago.

How had Echo managed to sneak in and light those? She must have come up the outdoor stairs. If her grandmother was safe, who cared?

"You had me worried to death," she called. "Where were you?"

No answer.

The room was empty.

The curtains were drawn.

Then who lit the incense?

She forced herself to enter. Something sat in the middle of the bed.

Just like that card reading.

Cold sweat poured over her.

Crealde pushed past and jumped on the bed. He tapped his nose around the mysterious object; his soft meow confirmed it was safe.

She sat on the bed and switched on a lamp.

The cat’s paw rested on a small leather book.

Inside was an envelope addressed to Jess, written in her grandmother’s handwriting. She sat it unopened beside her.

The book’s fragile pages were reluctant to turn even with a tender touch.

The first entry was dated seventeen years ago; the day Jess’s parents died.

Only four words: ‘Today my heart fractured.’

She flipped the book shut and pushed it away. She never knew her grandmother kept journals.

And why was this left out in a conspicuous place?

Had her grandmother been interrupted while she wrote in it? Crealde hunkered into a ball next to her, resting a paw on the journal.

Those last ice cream bites ventured up Jess’s throat. Both the envelope and the book were for her.

This was a lucid dream and all she had to do was open her eyes. But she was awake.

"Well, Crealde, I guess we read the letter."

Precious,

Master Cheng invited me to take a journey with him. I’m safe. And there’s nothing to worry about, even though I know you will. I couldn’t tell you before because you’d try to talk me out of this. Always use your gift wisely. Give your love freely. Remember what I said about making people happy. Keep your heart open and trust your wisdom. I’ll always love you and always be near.

Nana

PS. The house, Crealde, and Carpe Diem are all yours. Lock, stock, and cauldron. And, the cards are in the drawer.

Every untoward scenario scattered across Jess’s mind. Had Master Cheng tricked her grandmother into running away with him? Was he a swindler? Had he taken her money? Was she being held against her will and made to write this note?

Had her grandmother pulled a classy hoax?

Or were these the arrangements she talked about?

"I don’t get this."

Maybe the journal held more answers. With trembling hands, she reread the first entry, written the day her parents died. The next one a year later. Each of the seventeen entries was on the anniversary date.

Her heart skipped. The next anniversary was in two weeks.

She petted the white cat sleeping beside her. This was no dream. It had all happened. Her grandmother was gone. Where? For how long?

What would she do without her? Nana was the only family she knew besides the uncle that refused to take her into his home all those years ago.

An avalanche of horribles coated her like sticky molasses. This huge house. The business. How could she manage this and still live in Boston? She couldn’t just lock the door and walk away from Carpe Diem.

Remembering a half-bottle of Syrah in the kitchen, she poured a glass. After the second sip, she was ready to open the journal.

As hard as it had been to lose her parents, what grief her grandmother must have borne.

Though she visited this place every summer, Jess would never forget walking through the door days after her parents died. And her Nana’s words, ‘Welcome home.’

After a year, she stopped her nightly perch on her bedroom windowsill, watching for her father’s blue car to pull in and take her to her real home.

With time and a grandmother’s love, living in a magical world became her new normal.

This journal must have been Nana’s way to cope. On each anniversary, there was a letter written to Jess’s mother.

In them, Echo had told her daughter all the things Jess had done in the last year. Her accomplishments in school. Her sad and happy times. Her birthday parties. Harmswood Academy Awards. College scholarships. The first job.

All in the voice of a caring and proud grandmother.

Two hours later, and after crying sufficient tears to create a waterfall, Jess read the last lines, dated today.

‘Your beautiful daughter is a smart, savvy woman who looks more like you every day. The store and dear Crealde are in the best hands I could ever imagine. Now I’m off.’

Off to where?

Chapter Seventeen

On schedule, the transport truck rolled to a stop in front of Ryan’s door. He waved to the two men in the front seat; the driver and a member of the Fareed family.

After they had confirmed the packing instructions and flight schedule, Ryan gave the wooden statue one last polishing wipe.

With neurosurgeon precision, the men wrapped the horse in a protective blanket and bubble wrap, then laid it on a sisal bed. They sealed the crate and loaded it into the truck.

"Our plane departs at three," one man said. "It will be our family’s honor for you to install this beauty in its new home."

Ryan leaned against the doorframe as he watched the van drive away. He worked on that stallion for months; bared his soul to this creature. Imbued it with his deep secrets. He couldn’t let it make this trip alone.

Though Dubai was the world away, it would be a clean break to reset his life. When he had explained the plan to his mother, she had thrown a fit the size of Lake Erie.

Connor had asked if there was an extra seat.

There wasn’t any reason to stay. He had money and could start over anywhere.

As he went through tool drawers, he decided everything could go in storage. Pandora Van Zant, the best real estate agent in town, could help coordinate this.

His passport and a few clothes in a suitcase and he’d be ready.

Except for one loose end.

He should call Jess Callahan and clear the air, though what good would that do?

What possessed him to think that she could live in the Ford world? Or want to speak to him again?

Why couldn’t he shake how his lips fit on hers? How her soft velvety skin felt against him as they made love. How at ease they’d been in each other’s arms afterward for an all-too-short time.

And how she looked dancing in Connor’s arms.

Hell, his mother had done them all a favor. Better it ended before they made a foolish commitment.

Connor pulled up a stool and sat in the empty spot where the stallion had been. "Now that the object of your desire is gone, what’s next?"

Ryan’s heart jumped into his throat, then settled. Connor meant the horse.

"He’s been my life for over a year, counting planning and sketching."

"Like I said, it’s your best work. You decide to go with them?"

"I did, and I have a lot to do before the flight."

"I can help out here. It’s not like I have a full schedule."

With thousands invested in this workshop, how would his brother have the first clue what to do? "Just let Pandora handle it."

Connor opened a cabinet and held up the gaudy T-shirt. "You kept this? She never mentioned it again, did she?"

"We were spared."

That hideous shirt brought memories. Jess managing misfit stage hands and convincing him that misshapen wood chunks could become a forest.

And that a loner falcon might one day find a mate.

"Connor, there is one thing you might do for me."

"Name it."

"Take care of Jess."

"You’re asking me to take care of her? Oh, this is where I came in. Mother’s messed us both up."

"I saw you dancing with her at Insomnia. Looks like she finally got the man she wanted all along."

Connor screwed his face into a question mark. "Who? Me? We had a dance. She used the old brush-off line. ‘I don’t feel well.’ I helped her out and stayed with her two girlfriends. Man, those foxes can party. I was dragging butt to keep up."

"She went home? So, you two didn’t…"

"Didn’t what? You think there’s something between her and me? Hilarious. It’s not me she has the hots for."

Ryan beaded his eyes on Connor. Was there someone else in town she’d been seeing? "Then who?"

"Are you that clueless? She loves you, bonehead. And when will you realize you’re in love with her?"

"Me? In love?"

"Hearts and flowers. Candy and perfume. All that jazz."

Wrong, bro. All wrong. "We’ve never even gone out on a real date," Ryan said. They’d skipped that step, unless sharing a food truck lunch counted.

"Unless you can shift into a trans-Atlantic falcon, in my opinion, you have a real problem on your hands."

He considered this a moment. No. He didn’t have a problem. The world might. His mother might. But he didn’t.

He spun the bench vice handle till it was tight. "Connor, you have plans for later? Say around three o’clock?"

Chapter Eighteen

Reliable as London’s Big Ben, and nearly as loud, Crealde’s breakfast alarm caterwauled through the house.

The meow monster muscled between her legs as she poured chow into his dish. "All right, already."

If this cat, the center of his personal universe, missed Nana, it didn’t show.

With Crealde crunching food in the background, Jess looked at her messages again. Two from the headhunter. A text from Sierra.

Nothing from her grandmother.

And nothing from Ryan.

What did she expect? She made it clear to him and his mother that she was done with that hot mess.

The world was bigger than Nocturne Falls. Time to blow this popsicle stand.

Wherever her grandmother was, she’d understand. It might be smart to keep Carpe Diem open for a while. She could hire a manager and still live in Boston.

Her phone buzzed. Her headhunter.

"Jess, where’ve you been?"

Right here in River City. Tending to business. Dabbling in a little magic. Accepting that her clairsentient grandmother had followed her Tai Chi master to another world. Trying to forget a certain shape-shifting falcon.

"It’s been a little crazy here," she said.

"I have the perfect job for you. Why didn’t I think about this before?"

Perfect intrigued her, but she’d already arranged a second interview in Boston. "Might be a little late."

"Oh, don’t worry. That was just a phone interview. You can always turn it down. I can fix all that. A woman with your talent and keen insight make you a fit."

She’d made the emotional move to Boston and mentally gone real estate hunting. Everything was planned, almost to what she’d wear on the first day.

"This better be good," Jess said.

"It is. I promise. How about working with me? My business has grown so much that I can’t handle it without help."

"Headhunter? Me?"

"We prefer to call it talent management."

Call it whatever she wants, it’s still head hunting. Corporate matchmaking.

"I don’t have a clue about this business," Jess said.

"We’ve all started somewhere."

There would be a salary and commission. Office expenses. And she could relocate to Boston whenever she was ready, or stay in Georgia and work from home. Say the word and the job was hers.

After the call, Jess showered and dressed. She had good reasons to leave Nocturne Falls. And good reasons to stay.

Head spinning, she tackled first things first; open the shop.

After the Carpe Diem staff arrived, Jess started her errand run. The DIY Depot for supplies to repair the upstairs toilets, and window caulk. Then the bank.

It had been an enormous job keeping up the house. Working with her hands all summer gave her a break from the trapeze swinging monkey troupe in her head.

But what about her grandmother? What if she didn’t return? How could she leave Nocturne Falls without knowing where her grandmother was?

Luck would have it; she found a parking place within walking distance to the bank. The worry band around her chest constricted as she sat across from the vice president.

As the letter promised, the property and inventory was hers; lock, stock, and cauldron. Every detail covered.

But the contract had to be signed no later than thirty days from the day Echo wrote the letter. "And if I don’t sign, then what happens?"

The bank official placed his glasses on the table.

"Everything remains in her name and under her control until you take ownership. But if she’s on an extended vacation, as you’ve said, and you haven’t signed on, or before the deadline, and haven’t taken ownership for any reason, this would go into court. It’s possible that this would be considered property abandonment."

A powerful swimmer, Jess was way over her head in whitewater. Not yet noon and she’d been recruited by a recruiter to be a recruiter, misplaced her grandmother, and Carpe Diem was at risk.

On the upside, she found a two-for-one sale on toilet guts.

The Hallowed Bean was a short walk, and a double-espresso Monster Mocha iced latte called her name. This time she’d finish her darn drink without interruptions from any Fords.

Though the Bean wasn’t the best place to sort through the half-pound portfolio, it had to do.

A frantic search on her phone for ‘property abandonment’ listed sites ranging from the ridiculous—a fool’s guide to abandoning a home—to esoteric legalese mumbo-jumbo.

Why hadn’t she asked more questions at the bank? Shock and denial perhaps?

Time to fast forward through the commercials.

There was a way through this, but she wouldn’t resort to it for love or money. She could take off the ring and look for the story’s ending. No. She’d figure this out like a regular human. One step at a time.

First, get home before closing. Besides, those toilet flappers wouldn’t replace themselves.

As she bundled her papers and recapped her drink, Jess spotted Pandora Van Zant seated at a small table, toe-to-toe with Ryan.

Thought this was the day the horse shipped. Was it gone already? Wasn’t he going with it? And what’s he doing with her?

Slow down, monkeys. Pandora’s a newlywed, remember? No threat. No hanky panky. And, why was she concerned about Ryan’s companions?

Compared to the drop-dead gorgeous Pandora, Jess, without a stick of makeup, in old work jeans and worn canvas shoes, looked like a rag bag. She spread her fingers and looked at her ratty nails. She needed a visit to Hair Scare for a manicure in a desperate way.

Manicured nails on the hands that would soon be dipping into a toilet tank? That made no sense. She curled her fingers into her palms.

He can’t see her like this.

As she pressed open the door, she sensed someone behind her.

"I’ll get that." A man’s deep voice over her shoulder.

Standing on the sidewalk away from the tourist crowd, Ryan gently gripped her arm. "I tried to get your attention inside." His eyes dropped to the folder under her arm.

"I saw you. With Pandora," she countered, a bit sharp. Argh. She hadn’t meant it to come out like that.

"It was business." His quizzical look confused her as he held her arm. "You have a minute?"

The clock in the town square struck the half-hour. "Not now."

He pulled his hand away, leaving her skin tingling from his touch. “I have to talk to you."

A collision with a pint-sized space trooper careened Jess into Ryan.

What undiscovered physics principle said that for every inch closer to this man’s embrace, her desire for him exponentially skyrocketed? And this was no place for an erotic meltdown.

"Can it wait till morning? My place for breakfast?" Jess asked.

Shuffling the bank folder from one arm to the other, she wondered who channeled that invitation. Nana?

Jess wasn’t ready to tell anyone that Echo Stargazer had flown the coop. The hurt was still too fresh. Eventually, she’d find a reasonable way to explain it. Not in the middle of the street.

"Tomorrow morning it is. I’ll bring something from Delaney’s. See you around eight." With a riveting smile, he waved over his shoulder.

While he was picking up savories from the bakery, he could bring a gallon of understanding. Her news would top anything he had.

Chapter Nineteen

Jess swung hangers across her closet rod looking for something that didn’t make her look like a home-repair TV host.

Something nice; not too nice. This wasn’t a fancy-schmancy affair. But she had invited Ryan to her house and it qualified as a real date. 

Even with the high probability of it all melting away, she applied mascara, eyeliner, and coral lip gloss. Who was the giddy woman staring at her in the mirror? The same woman who’d stormed off the estate? But something kept tickling her heart that Ryan told her the truth. Nana perhaps? She could hope.

In the back of her closet was Ryan’s jacket. She held the sleeve to her nose. It still held the scent of his cologne. What was that ‘something important’ he had to tell her?

Maybe she should wear the boho-girl dress that she wore the first time Ryan kissed her. A one-time-only outfit and besides, too costumey.

She grew up in Nocturne Falls, but dressing up like Halloween gave her heartburn.

Her meager selection didn’t include frilly day-wear. White capris and a sleeveless teal top would work fine.

Anyway, the man had seen her in grubby work clothes and absolutely no clothes.

Ryan was due any minute and the whole reason for playing dress-up. She dashed to the kitchen where Crealde perched in the sink, running a paw across the window.

She should be furious with the huge fur-ball-with-legs shedding everywhere, but watching him make little cat barks and swipe across the glass at a squirrel on a limb was too funny.

"Out for you, bud." She lifted him to her shoulder and nuzzled his furry face. "Careful what you chase after; you might just get it. Then what?"

The screen door latch wiggled in her hand. "Come on. Is there nothing left around here that works?"

Add that to the list of whatever else planned to disintegrate today. Ryan and Crealde passed one another on the stairs.

"Morning," he said through the screen. "That’s quite a big cat."

A pop followed by his stunned look at the broken door latch in his hand squeezed a laugh from Jess.

"Welcome to the crumbling house of horrors," she said.

He placed a bakery box on the kitchen table set with Nana’s everyday dishes.

"I can fix that door," he said.

She shrugged and gestured to a seat. "I’ll deal with it later." This place had to get spiffed up to sell, but her time and energy were about gone.

As she scanned the croissants, sweet buns and fruit tarts, her mouth watered. And perhaps a little bit for the man across from her.

Their fingers met on the same pastry.

"Sorry," he said.

"You first." Such a nice homey exchange. No one would guess they’d made love or, that she told him she never wanted to see him again.

As Nana would say, ‘details, details.’

But, politeness was about to take a nosedive. He just snatched the only Ravishing Raspberry tart in the box.

In a gallant gesture, Ryan cut it and placed half on her plate. "I owe you. Remember the day I took all your onions?"

She was losing ground on her resolve not to fall for a man who had just shared heaven. After taking a bite, jam dribbled down her chin.

He handed her a napkin. "Good, aren’t they?"

Discretion tossed to the wind. Jess devoured her half tart, a whole croissant, which she slathered in butter, an apricot filled bun and a second coffee. Ryan barely touched his.

She didn’t care what he thought about her ravenous appetite. The splurge was justified. She’d be on her feet in the shop and home repair mode after closing. And probably pull an all-nighter reviewing legal documents.

Besides, gooey sweets helped distract her from a missing grandmother and the man sitting across the table. Apart from that, the pastries were damn delicious. And so was he.

"So where’s Echo this morning?"

His question knotted her overfull stomach.

"Running errands," she lied.

"I bet she’s not looking forward to you leaving."

Her Nana’s disappearing act was an odd way to show it. "More coffee?"

Ryan covered his cup. "Will you take a walk with me?"

He hit that one far outfield. "If you like." Though his reason escaped her.

The drought in full sway, the county was still hot as Hades. But not in Echo’s garden.

Jess glided her hands over the bushes growing along the flagstone path. Would new owners appreciate these grounds as much as her grandmother does? Or, past tense. Had.

"The further we walk, the further we seem to be from town," he said. "We’re in the middle of a forest, and we only walked a few yards from the house."

"She planned it that way." With help from the fairies.

The path wound through a thicket until it ended where stones surrounded a fire pit.

Cobalt blue bottles hung throughout the trees and showered midmorning sun around them.

Jess’s heart tugged. This was her grandmother’s sacred circle.

Sometimes Echo spent the night in this place communing with her guides. Was this the spot where she’d been convinced to walk into the ether?

Ryan took a seat on a wooden bench, his hands clasped between his knees. "I need to explain."

She sat across from him. "I don’t want to go through this again."

"Can’t blame you. My mother can be pretty snarky."

Snarky. What a creative word. "She certainly has a strong will."

Ryan stifled a laugh. His eyes searched hers, leaving unfinished sentences.

She spun the ring around her finger vowing not to surrender.

"It was her idea to keep you and Connor apart, but I wouldn’t have any part of it. You have to believe me."

Jess found a stick and dug around in the pit. Nothing had burned in here for weeks. She did believe him. But this wasn’t the barrier. 

"She’s short on diplomacy, but she had a point. You and I—"

"Let me finish what I came here to say." He moved to kneel beside her. "I’m not good at small talk. You think there’s a future for us?"

On his knees asking about their future? A sudden whirlwind tossed the leaves around them as his question spun in her mind. What could she say that wouldn’t hurt him? That was the last thing she wanted.

"Ryan. What about your mother? She’s wedged like a boulder between us. You really think that would change?"

Ryan’s face clouded. "I can handle her." The sadness in his voice undermined his promise.

No matter how hard she tried to weed them from her thoughts, Solange’s words had taken root.

"A falcon and a human. What kind of life would that be?"

"I’m not like Connor who changes as the mood strikes. And I can’t imagine a life without you."

How could she tell this man, who should carry a weapons’ license for those deadly dark eyes and long eyelashes, that the point wasn’t who shifted or why? It was the whole bizarre idea of people changing into animals that freaked her out.

He cupped his trembling hands around hers.

"What I’m trying to say, Jess, is that I’m in love with you."

Chapter Twenty

Jess gasped for air, hoping it would resuscitate her. Ryan’s rock-steady gaze and grip around her hands blew any chance to evade the question.

The man sure the hell wasn’t good with small-talk.

A branch above them cracked and fell to the ground, barely missing them as it landed in the fire pit. Shaking, Jess bolted up and tossed the broken limb into the brush.

Ryan laid his hand on her arm. "Okay?"

"Just a little rattled." Less about the dead branch; more about how what he’d told her changed everything.

She scanned overhead. "Guess I need to hire a tree man, too."

"This wasn’t exactly how I’d planned this." He picked a twig from her hair.

She put her arms around him and rested her cheek against his chest. His heart raced alongside hers, at breakneck speed. 

Did he honestly think that they could be compatible? So endearing. So naïve.

She loosened her hold. The absolute truth, loving him terrified her.

"Ryan."

He closed his eyes and bowed his head. "I understand."

"It’s not what you think." Though it was. "Things aren’t going so well in my world."

Jess jammed her hands into her pockets. Time to tell someone that Nana’s skipped town. Crossed the ridge to the next village. Eloped with a leprechaun. All more plausible than the truth.

She took a long breath. "Nana’s not running errands." At least not in this world.

She could melt at the caring look in his eyes. Gentle. Kind. And full-throated sexy.

"Then where is she?" He asked.

"I don’t know."

"What do you mean you don’t know?"

She wished for a sane answer. "I came home two days ago and she was gone. Not a trace." Aside from a letter and a journal.

"Is she staying with someone?"

"No."

"Her pickup’s in the driveway. She couldn’t have gone far. Did you call the sheriff? Two days is a long time at her age."

The urgency in his questions reignited her panic. Time to explain or he’d have Sheriff Merrow here in a Nocturne Falls minute.

"You need to sit down. This might be hard to believe," she said.

"This is Nocturne Falls. Try me."

Jess tucked a handful of hair behind her ear and swallowed. "Nana is clairsentient."

"Not news."

"And she has spirit guides."

"So does half the town."

"I think she’s crossed to another dimension with her Tai Chi teacher."

He squinted. "Well, that’s a little different."

She brushed a stray leaf from her shoulder. "Nana transferred the Carpe Diem to me."

His right eyebrow raised. "That’s serious. What’s this do to your plans?"

Foul them up. "I can’t think straight." About this or love.

"Jess, have you tried looking for her with your gift?"

Sweat bloomed over her. How could she admit that she hadn’t? He’d think she was a fool, or worse. She cast her gaze to the ground and shook her head.

She’d spent her adult life trying to be a regular human, and all summer keeping an arm’s distance from everyone in Nocturne Falls. Humans work through problems using their own wits, not magic.

Right. Sure. Who was she kidding?

She was petrified to call up images. When she was young, random visions were so real that they’d made her ill. Before discovering the ring’s blocking effect, she’d thought she would go crazy.

"I’m afraid to try. I don’t know what I’ll see," she said.

"If I stay with you, would that make it easier?"

The only way to find out was to try. "Promise you’ll be here even if something weird comes through? I haven’t done this in a long time."

He stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I’m not going anywhere."

She slipped the ring from her finger and waited. And waited. Not a single picture came through.

Hello, out there. It’s me. The clairvoyant. Hanging out to dry here. Anybody listening?

"Nothing’s happening." She covered her eyes, forgetting the ring was in her hand and sending it tumbling. Ryan found it and handed it to her.

She stuffed the ring into a pocket. Had her denial been so intense, for so many years, that she could no longer manifest visions?

What about seeing her grandmother’s empty bedroom? Was that clairvoyance? Or was it her Nana’s gift working through the magical cards?

Thoughts tumbled like confetti around her. Maybe she was Alice after all, and she’d walked through the looking glass.

How could her Nana let her think she was clairvoyant if she wasn’t? Unless it was her grandmother’s way to help a little girl cope with grief and loss. No. She’d been accepted into Harmswood Academy. She’d proven it to the admission committee. The gift was real; rusty, but real.

Ryan kissed her shoulder. "Where are you?"

His presence was like morning sunshine. At least he was very real and no dream.

"I’m not sure what to do," she said as she stood.

Ryan walked to her side, held her tight and gave her a loving deep kiss. Her giggle vibrated against his tongue.

"I meant about my future," she squeaked around his lips.

"I know," he said as he kissed her again, and again.

In a way, she was glad nothing came through. She could go on being plain old Jess Callahan with a MIA grandmother. And a hot man’s arms around her.

Hot? Jess pressed against his shoulders. "You smell that?"

"What?" He ran his finger over her chin and her lips.

A thrum coursed her body, but quickly halted. "Something’s burning."

"I’m flattered," he said.

"No. Something really is burning." She poked a stick into the fire pit. Cold.

Was someone burning leaves? As dry as it had been, surely no one was that stupid.

Stronger, the odor scorched her nose. Then the vision.

A building consumed by a scorching fire. Windows exploded.

"It’s our house." Her neck pulse galloped. How fast could fire trucks get here?

She broke away from Ryan and ran, slipping on flagstones and cursing her useless leather sandals. Bounding up the stairs, she burst through the rickety door, throwing it off its hinges.

Everything was fine.

With a sheepish grin, she went out to the porch where Ryan stood watching her; a woman who may have had a psychotic breakdown.

A stabbing pain shot through her temples.

Another vision.

Smoke thick as wool. Woods on fire. Crackling tinder. But where?

Her legs gave way. She dropped to her knees, engulfed in a burning firestorm.

"I can’t breathe. Smoke. Everywhere."

"There’s no smoke. What’s happening to you?"

The animals. Screeching and howling. Panic. Fear. Trapped.

"It’s the Sanctuary. Ryan, the fire is there."

Bewildered, he shook his head. "The Sanctuary is thirty miles away."

Never a vision so powerful or so real. Not a hallucination. "Call somebody," she said.

"I’ll prove it. I’ll call Katya Dostoyevna. I’m sure everything’s fine." He tapped in the number to the Sanctuary supervisor. Voicemail.

"It’s not fine. I can see it. Disaster. Death. They’ll all die." Tears ran down her cheeks.

"I need to get you to a doctor."

Her throat burned as she wheezed. "Not me. Save the animals."

"Believe her, Ryan."

Clear, distinct and loud, the voice belonged to Echo Stargazer.

"Nana? Help. Us. Please." Jess choked out the words.

Ryan looked around. "Where is she?"

"Do what I say. Go out there."

He turned his head, looking for Echo. "By the time I drive there—"

"Not drive, you fool. Fly."            

"Tell me this isn’t real," he said.

Jess struggled to stand. "It’s real. You must go. I’ll follow in the car." She turned away from him.

By some miracle, and Jess’s stubborn perseverance, the 9-1-1 dispatcher agreed to route emergency units to the Sanctuary.

When she turned around, Ryan was gone.

"Thank you, Nana," she whispered.

Chapter Twenty-One

Ryan circled the main building at the Sanctuary, darting through the rising smoke, looking for a safe place to land. Though only two fire vehicles had arrived, he couldn’t risk being seen.

A few yards away from the access road, he landed in a recessed area in the bushes. Once he fully changed to human, he sat knees drawn to his forehead. Until the shifting effects wore off, he’d be no use.

How had he doubted, even for a minute, Jess’s vision?  While in flight, he’d witnessed the raging fire climbing the ridge as it approached the main buildings. He needed to tell someone.

He rose and stretched his arms, then made his way to a volunteer firefighter assembly point. He recognized them from Nocturne Falls. They’d believe his story about flying over the approaching fire.

As he explained what he’d seen, someone handed him goggles and pointed to a team wrestling a firehose. Ryan led them along a path toward the ridge.

Embers were floating in the air around them. If Jess was on her way, as he was sure she was, she better stay out of the way. This monster was gaining strength and moving fast.

*~*

Jess’s forty-minute drive was nerve-wracking. All the while, an HD movie played in her head nearly blinding her. Flames lapped the Sanctuary perimeter. Pine trees burned like torches. Even her steering wheel burned like hot lava beneath her fingers.

Breathing became harder.

At the gate, just as in her visions, she watched fire plumes rise from the central compound.

Three fire trucks and a water tanker had arrived. Firefighters scrambled to run hoses.

But she couldn’t see Ryan anywhere. With a falcon’s speed, he had to be here.

She parked then raced toward the main building, only to be blocked by a state highway officer.

"Let me go in. I have to help." And find Ryan.

The patrolman insisted that she couldn’t go closer. She stepped a few yards away and out of his eyesight.

Then she was overcome with another vision. A small nursery held the magical animals away from the public, hidden in the deep woods.

All the efforts were directed to the main building and beyond. There were no crews headed toward these woods. Smoke was growing thick; the radiating heat was everywhere.

With the bustle around her, Jess found the right moment to run.

Following a narrow dirt path through the woods, she stopped three times to gag. Finding the strength, she pressed branches away from her until she came to a small clearing.

A few yards ahead, black smoke poured from a building. The nursery.

Her stomach wrenched. Anything inside might already be dead.

If she could get close, she might be able to see inside.

Before she could move, a wind gust rolled a dark cloud in her direction.

Retching again, she dropped to her knees. Any closer and she might die herself.

But there were living creatures inside. And though they were magical babies, they were helpless.

With one more gulp of air to fill her lungs, she crawled forward, feeling more than seeing her way to the building.

Single minded, she left fear behind.

Heat singed the hair on her bare arms. She blinked hard to clear her eyes and reached the door just as Katya came around the corner.

"Jess? Thank goodness it’s you. Help me. This door. It’s stuck."

Together, they threw their combined weight against the steel door as though they had any chance to open it.

She put her hand on Katya’s shoulder. "Window?"

Katya led the way around the building and pointed to a small, high window just beyond her fingertips.

Jess found a brick and threw it through the glass, then motioned for a boost.

With a push from Katya, Jess scrabbled for a foothold and ran her hand along the sill until she found the latch. After sliding the frame open, she pulled herself up and through. Her feet steadied on a workbench, she hopped to the floor, then unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door.

The room lit only by smoke filtered sunlight, the women went cage to cage. Was each one occupied? Where to start? The hot air nearly strangled her.

"Take these," Katya said.

A cage in each hand, Jess carried them far from the building. Katya followed with three smaller cages that she sat next to them.

No time to check which ones were alive or dead. They raced inside, the room filling with a dense, choking blanket.

Katya’s emergency light shined an eerie glow on the terrified animals crouched in their cages. Some were leaning against others separated only by thin metal rungs, their eyes filled with panic.

Sympathy could come later. Now they had work to do. By Jess’s count, there were still at least ten little creatures.

A long, frightening rip overhead caused both women to cower. "Ceiling," Katya said. "Move fast."

With two cages each, they raced to the outdoor holding area.

"How many more?" Jess asked.

Katya made a quick count. "Two."

"Stay here. I’ll get them."

Inside the burning building, the ceiling had partially collapsed. Was she too late?

Just past the threshold, glowing beams blocked her. She willed a vision, praying this one didn’t show dead animals.

The last two cages were on her right.

Her ankle turned as she kicked rubble aside. Just a few more steps. One more step.

Let them be alive.

The wire cages were hot to the touch. How could anything survive?

Despite the heat, she tucked one under each arm. To reassure the animals, and herself, she kept talking and fought her way to the door.

Though it scorched her throat, she forced herself to inhale desperate for any sliver of air.

Then she ran.

In the clearing, she and Katya loaded cages as fast as they could into a van.

Once the truck was moving, Jess sunk into the passenger seat and wiped her arm over her eyes.

Through the thinning haze, they approached the triage area crowded with fire and rescue vehicles. After they had parked, she jumped out and gulped fresh air. Her nausea and dizziness eased.

Katya tended the animals then joined Jess. "They made it. They look like deer in the headlights, but they’ll be okay. And you?"

Jess ran an internal scan. Throat raw. Eyes stinging. Blood running down her arm. White capris ruined. Urge to vomit waning. She was fine.

Jess hugged Katya. "We made it, didn’t we?"

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jess poured water over her face and eyes. Her head still tipped to the side; she felt a hand on her shoulder. She stood and faced a man smeared with soot and dirt, dressed in filthy clothes and pitch black sneakers.

More soothing than water, gratitude washed over her. Ryan.

"I’m not sure who looks worse." His broad smile brightened his smudged face.

Her arms were around him before he could say another word. He smelled of burnt wood and ash, but no worse than she did. "You look amazing."

She hissed in pain as he brushed her arm. She’d forgotten the glass cut.

"Crap. You’re bleeding." He waited by the EMT truck while someone cleaned and bandaged Jess’s wound.

Communication radios squawked. Another water truck crunched along the gravel road. Someone yelled orders to a group of firefighters.

Fire’s stench everywhere.

She closed her eyes, waiting for another vision. This one came quickly.

In it, she floated above the trees.

White wisps circled over the hillside and around the main building.

No black smoke or glowing hotspots.

She lingered in her vision to be satisfied that what she saw was real and not her conjured imagination.

"It’s under control," she said.

"What is?" Ryan squatted on the ground beside her.

"The fire. It’s contained. They just don’t realize it yet. And it’s going to rain," she said. "Soon."

He scanned the cloudless sky.

She dug into her pocket for the ring and put it on. "Trust me," she said.

They leaned against her car while the fire crews reloaded equipment. The chief explained that one small contingency would stay behind to watch for any flare-ups, but they had a solid perimeter and firewall.

The Sanctuary was secured and except for the nursery which was a total loss, no damage that couldn’t be cleaned up or repaired.

"Can I hitch a ride?"

Somehow Ryan’s question struck her as insanely funny. A man who had shifted into the fastest bird on earth, and a first responder to a forest fire, needed a ride home?

"Can’t you just wing it?"

He answered with an annoyed glare.

Jess nudged the car into the line winding down the access road. At the Interstate junction, most vehicles exited out of her way, and she picked up speed.

"You did a really foolish thing going into that building. You could have been hurt. Or died," he said.

"And we could have lost the animals."

"Still, a huge risk."

"Some things are worth the risk, Ryan."

Between adrenaline and sheer impulse, she’d pushed through broken glass and fire, uncertain what she’d find. Her possible death had only nipped the corners of what she had been compelled to do. Save lives.

She rolled the car to a gentle stop in the Carpe Diem driveway behind her grandmother’s truck, still right where Echo had left it.

If Nana were here, little girl Jess would run inside and tell her all about her great adventure.

How she longed to hear Nana’s tinkling bracelets as her grandmother smoothed her hair, and fussed about how proud she was.

And Nana would brew tea.

A gentle hand covered hers on the steering wheel.

"Car’s still running," Ryan said.

She switched off the ignition. "What I did was crazy, wasn’t it?"

"That nursery is hidden. The firefighters wouldn’t have gotten there in time. Yes, you were crazy. A brave fool."

It had all moved so fast, too fast even to think.

Images replayed. Climbing through the window. Looking around the smoky room. The inferno. Carrying animals out, cage-by-cage.

His eyes were still fixed on her. His tender, loving, dark eyes.

"What now?" He asked.

"I’m filthy and need a bath."

"I mean about us."

Her hands grabbed the steering wheel again, nails pressed into her palms, the only way she could stop shaking. Staring forward, she couldn’t bring herself to answer.

She knew what he meant.

The passenger door opened and shut. In her rearview mirror, she saw him walking toward his car parked on the street. No.

She threw open her door and raced down the driveway, breaking through a tourist family with children dressed as goblins.

One child called to his mother. "Look at that lady. She looks just like the guy over there. They’re zombies. Cool."

Ryan stood beside his car, flashing a bright smile across a sooty face. Her heart unlocked as she ran to him. As she enveloped her arms around him, the words that wouldn’t come earlier released in a flood.

"Don’t leave like this. In the car, I couldn’t think straight. My words froze. I still saw those poor animals. And you’re right. I was a fool."

She rested her forehead against his chest. Though he still smelled of smoke, his embrace spread healing light through her.

"I’m curious. What happens if zombies kiss?" He asked.

"Huh?"

Ryan made a quick head nod toward the boy who was still watching them. "Anything we can do to promote Nocturne Falls, right?"

"Ah. My thoughts exactly."

"That your only thought?"

His lips grazed hers in a gentle, in-public kiss, then released her.

"Not so fast, mister." Jess clasped her hands around his neck and pressed her lips into his. Their growing need was no match for the taste of smoke and ash.

"Eeeewe. They’re kiiissssing. Yuck. They don’t do that on TV," the zombie spotting kid said.

As rain began to fall, they broke apart but stayed in their embrace. The child’s mother grabbed the boy’s hand and mouthed ‘sorry’ as they rushed away.

"I’m not sorry, are you?" Ryan asked.

"Nope. But I was serious about a hot bath," she said.

"I suspect showering together is out."

"For now." But not forever.

Chapter Twenty-Three

A dinner date with Jess. Their second official date.

Ryan realized they had a lot to straighten out, but tonight, he hoped they might do a little more than talk.

He parked his truck in between the cars in his mother’s driveway. Another gadfly party.

Before he could reach his door, Solange approached marching stiff as a general.

"We need you inside," she said.

Now what? "Who’s we?"

"Don’t pretend with me."

He knew whose cars those were, but facing her shifter squadron was the last thing he needed.

"I don’t have time. I’ve been busy, or haven’t you heard? A fire nearly destroyed the Sanctuary," he said.

Typical Solange Ford prioritizing social niceties over tragedy.

"You have time. Come with me."

He could turn away, and suffer endless nagging, or get this behind him.

Her feathers were riled to let him inside her house looking like a rain-soaked ‘zombie’.

Around a massive Louie the fifteenth dining table, ten women, each about Solange’s age, sat with their sour faces focused on him.

Exhaustion had spilled the last drop of give-a-damn out of him. He’d play this to the hilt.

He bowed. "Ladies, my sincere apology for my appearance."

Solange took her place at the head. "No need for impudence."

To the person, no one broke her stare. Had they ever seen a grimy man before?

This was a hopping mad gathering that could become a shift-con from hell.

His mother’s crimson fingernails disappeared into her fists. He could almost hear her saying, ‘all the better to claw you with.’

"Are you aware that you broke a cardinal rule?" Solange asked.

No kidding. He shifted before nightfall. Imagine the scandal.

"Yes."

"Not only could you be banished from Nocturne Falls; this could hurt us all," she said.

Banished? So be it. If Jess was with him, he could live anywhere.

The Ellingham’s were strict, but not unreasonable. There’d be no repercussions.

The bigger question, how did these women find out?

"Who told you?" He looked from face-to-face hoping to see guilt flicker across a dowager’s face. "Who saw me?"

His gaze circled the women until it locked on his mother, whose hands had pulled to her lap.

"I’m the only person who’d suffer consequences,” Ryan said. “There’s no guilt by association in this town. Get Elenora Ellingham on the phone. I’ll be delighted to tell her the whole story."

A collective gasp around the table was followed by mutterings. "No." "Don’t do that." "Not necessary."

Somehow Solange had convinced these biddies to rally behind her. But why? She knew better than touting an Ellingham rule that could be broken in cases of dire need.

"What about your relationship with that woman?" Solange asked.

Bingo. There’s her bottom line.

He splayed his fingers on the table and froze his stare on his mother. "Is this about Jess Callahan?"

In his peripheral vision, he could see the women exchange concerned looks. Then, one by one they made quiet apologies and left.

After the last car door slammed and engine started, Ryan broke the silence.

"You were there," he said.

Solange walked to a window and opened the lace sheer. For a moment, he felt sorry for her.

Remembering how she’d deceived them into this confrontation, pity dissolved to anger.

He slammed his fist on the table. "You were there in the garden when I shifted." He persisted. "Weren’t you?"

Ordinarily, he could sense shifters, in or out of human form. He’d been engrossed with Jess and let his guard down. "You were in falcon. Then you heard Echo’s voice, too."

"I don’t want you to get hurt."

"By what? By whom? How?"

"Jess isn’t like us."

For that, he would be eternally grateful.

*~*

Salty pepperoni and triple cheese on a thick yeasty pizza crust had curative properties.

Not to mention the relaxed family-around-the-table antidote to the longest day on earth.

After his third slice, Ryan stretched and extended his legs under the table and his arms over his head.

Jess scanned his long torso. What would it be like to wake up each morning cuddled against this man?

Ding. Ding. Ding. What was she thinking? A kiss, or two, or three, wasn’t the onramp to the full-out commitment highway. There were a few more complications.

"I’ll get the dishes," he said. "You rest."

"Don’t scrub too hard on those paper plates."

Ryan leaned close and nibbled her neck. "A light touch works every time."

Warm ripples moved from the crown of her head to her toes. Was she glowing like a lightning bug?

She settled into the two-seat sofa, one foot on either side of Crealde curled in the middle of the foot-stool.

Still spooked by being in an empty house, at least Jess knew Nana would be there in an emergency.

But what was she going to do with this place? Or what she would do with the tall, dark, and handsome falcon-shifter in the kitchen.

How could she be sure if what grew between them was love, or lust that would fizzle after a few nights of wanton, crazed sex?

Ryan slid into the seat next to her.

Umm. Time to test her hypothesis. Her body quivered as his arm brushed across her. So close and available.

Then he withdrew his arm, the TV remote in his hand.

"Care if I turn this on?" He asked.

Mood killer. "Of course I don’t." Much.

He flipped through channels until he found news coverage of the fire.

In a voice-over, the department commander explained that when they got the call about the Sanctuary, they were on the other side of the ridge. They thought they’d contained the blaze but wind must have carried hot embers to the dry timber.

"I’m sorry for not believing you," Ryan said.

As the interview ended, the station ran video of the animals in a temporary holding area. Katya had spirited off the magical babies before the cameras arrived.

All the charged water in the world wouldn’t disguise those to humans.

"What the hell?" Ryan shouted.

Jess jumped, her nerve endings still raw, as Crealde darted to another room.

He hit replay and froze an image, went to the TV and touched the screen on the roof above the animal holding pen. "I knew it. Dammit. She followed me. See? She’s right there?"

"Who?"

"My mother."

Jess moved for a closer look. It was a bird. But how could he tell if it was a falcon? Specifically, a shifted Solange Ford.

Ryan hit play. Within seconds the bird took flight.

"Are you sure?" She asked.

"We have to settle this, once and forever. And I need you with me. Up for a ride?"

After a day like this? She rubbed the bandage on her arm and stifled a yawn. Her throat still raw from the smoke, she answered, "Ready when you are."

Though she didn’t think this was an invitation to ride to Nocturne Falls ‘lover’s lane.’

Chapter Twenty-Four

With eccentricity the norm in Nocturne Falls, Jess thought she’d heard or seen almost everything.

But Ryan’s story about the Inquisition at his mother’s shifter council ranked at the top.

Solange had sunk to an all-time low. Yes, her son had broken a rule, but to save lives. Living in the Ellingham community meant following certain standards, but they weren’t oppressive.

They were meant for the community good and to protect the supers. Where else could a person like her grandmother live in peace and raise a reluctant clairvoyant grandchild?

If Jess hadn’t seen the fire, those animals would have died in agony. Bile rose in her throat. That second pizza slice may have been one too many.

She looked at her jade ring. It might be a long time before she took it off again. But a little heads-up about what was going to happen between Solange and Ryan would be helpful.

After parking, he came around to the passenger side. "This could get dicey. Think you can handle it?"

Dicey drama with Solange Ford? She placed her hand in his and squeezed. "Oh, hell yes."

"Mother, we need to see you," Ryan announced as he and Jess walked through the front door. After a few seconds of silence, he repeated, louder, "I know you’re home."

"No need to raise your voice." Dressed in a silk caftan and a bath towel wrapped around her head, Solange descended the stairs like an old film star walking toward a camera close-up.

His cold glare at his mother counterbalanced the laugh rolling up from Jess’s toes. Something was different about the woman.

Then she got it. Solange didn’t have on any makeup. Without it, she looked pale and out-and-out peaked. And ten years older.

Ryan’s long fingers enclosed Jess’s hand. Pity any prey caught by a shifted falcon’s talons.

"You were there," he said.

Solange completed her descent and waved her hand at them. "Perhaps."

"Knock it off. I saw you on the news footage," he said.

Solange bristled. Then the sharp-tongued queen of mean started a faux collapse. Ryan caught her in mid-slide. "Okay. Showtime’s over."

Solange opened one eye and cocked her head at him, brushed her son’s arms away and stood straight and tall.

"Anyone for tea?" She said in a cheerful voice as she walked toward the kitchen.

Ryan slipped his arm around Jess’s waist. "I think Merlot might be better."

"I have an Oregon 2005 I’ve been dying to open," Solange said.

Jess mouthed ‘is she for real?’

He nodded and winked.

They sat at a granite breakfast bar in the enormous kitchen. "Sit down, ladies. I’ll take care of this," he said.

His impeccable sommelier skills were impressive and the wine was delightful. After this short intermission, Jess was ready for the next act.

Solange swirled her wine glass. "Perhaps it’s time I explained."

Ryan stood across from both women, tapping his fingers on the counter.

"You and Connor mean the world to me. And I want nothing more than to see you happy and successful." Solange’s voice poised on the diving board but didn’t jump into the sincerity pool.

"We got that." Ryan drank his wine without moving his eyes from his mother. "What’s that got to do with spying on us, then following me to the Sanctuary?"

"I wasn’t spying. I was going to plead one last time for you not to get involved with her. With Jess."

Reality check. A deep quaking shook Jess’s bones. "That broken limb that fell between us was you, wasn’t it? I can’t believe you’d try to hurt us."

Solange’s eyes opened wide. "I’d never do that. Please believe me. It was a complete accident. I misjudged that tree. I might be getting too old for this flying thing. I did follow you to the Sanctuary. I was so afraid for you."

"Then you went home and called the crones. Nice move," he said. "And thanks for all the help."

Jess waited for a safe opening. "Solange, Ryan and I have a lot to think about. All we ask is that you respect our wishes and give us privacy and space."

Though Solange remained silent and possibly indifferent, Jess at least had her say.

Solange tented her fingers. After several moments, she spoke in a voice just above a whisper. "Your father wasn’t my first love."

Ryan’s wine glass hit the granite but somehow didn’t break.

What in the name of all this Earth did she just say? Jess made a slow head turn to the woman next to her.

Solange just hit a fly ball out of the park. Only this one kept sailing. It might hit the ground somewhere in Tennessee.

"When I was your age, I fell in love with someone who wasn’t like us," Solange said.

Make that landing place Ohio.

Jess took the wine bottle and filled her glass double the dab that Ryan had poured. The ‘not like us’ story was about to roll.

Solange waited for a rise from her son. Not getting one, she proceeded.

"He was a wolf shifter from another community. A wonderful looking man. Intelligent. Caring. Even if he was a bit on the wild side."

"I don’t need to hear this," he said.

"But you do. You must understand why I know how you feel. And how Connor felt with his past girlfriends. Remember, we falcons mate for life. You must make the right choice. Someone who understands us."

"We can marry outside our own. Especially today." He stared at Jess. "There are no boundaries around love."

Taking another drink, Jess was still dealing with how to love a shifter and didn’t want to read too much into what he said.

"His pack leaders forbade it, so we planned to elope. We were going to Atlanta and be married in secret. But they found out," Solange said.

"How could they stop you?" Ryan’s voice dropped a pitch.

"He and I planned to meet at a spot in the forest. I got there first. He was nowhere around.

But his mother was, and as a menacing and evil wolf. I can still feel her hot breath on my legs. See the spittle hanging from her jaws.

After circling me, she shifted into human. She told me that I had to be the one to break it off; say I didn’t love him. Otherwise, she’d have him killed."

"Holy, hell," he said.

Solange continued. "His was a mountain pack that was nearly feral. That’s what drew me to him. But, I also knew they wouldn’t bat an eye to kill their own to maintain what they considered pack purity.

I couldn’t live with myself if I was the reason he died. So, I did what she asked. I found him and told him I didn’t love him."

Jess laid her hand on Solange’s arm. "But you did love him, didn’t you?"

"To this day." Solange’s eyes searched Ryan’s face. "I also loved your father, deeply. He was my mate. He knew what he walked into from the beginning.

But we made an excellent life together. You and Connor were the joys in our lives, and still are in mine. Though Connor fuels my migraines."

The room fell into an unyielding quiet except for the refrigerator’s hum. Jess released Solange’s hand. Drawn into an intimate conversation between a mother and her grown son, she should excuse herself.

The wine had hit her. Her muscles screamed. She needed to get off this stiff barstool, but she dared not move.

Solange dropped her head into her hands. "I’ve become like that she-wolf, haven’t I?"

"Connor and I can’t stay under wing our whole lives," he said, the sharpness gone in his voice.

With her haughtiness dissipating, Solange faced Jess. "You’re not a shifter. How can you know what it’s like to be half human? And not knowing in which world we belong."

Not belonging was something Jess knew all too well. It’s why she loved Boston where you could disappear into the crowd. No one cared who, or what, you were.

No one cared about you at all.

"Have you ever watched my son shift?"

Solange’s question stabbed Jess’s soul. Watching him shift meant accepting his falcon side.

"I have not." Her answer came from a deep well.

The bigger question, could she?

*~*

The rain slowed to a drizzled on the drive to Carpe Diem. "I’ll walk you to the door," Ryan said.

"I’ll be okay. You need sleep. You have a lot to think about." For a fact, she certainly did. Solange Ford’s confession had left her brain scrambled.

"You want me to go?" he asked.

Tell him ‘no’. Draw him to her arms. Take him upstairs to her bed and make mad love all night.

Instead, she said, "I need time."

Without answering, he gave her a soft, warm kiss. And then another, this one more loving.

Their lips parted as he whispered, "Take all the time you need. Just remember this."

He pulled her close for a third kiss, much more demanding.

One she would always remember.

She knew he wanted more, as did she. But Solange’s words resonated as she eased away from him. ‘Have you ever seen my son shift?’

What would happen when she watched this handsome, hundred percent, human man, turn into a born-to-kill falcon?

Chapter Twenty-Five

Light beams played a hiding game between the tall pines and splashed over Jess, seated on a rock near the falls, wrapped in the tweed jacket Ryan had left behind at Harmswood gym.

Arms folded around her knees, she stared into a pool below. The break in the heat signaled early fall. There was solace in this peaceful place, swathed in the sound of the waterfall and rustling squirrels burying acorns.

Ryan and Jess had agreed to take time apart to consider their future, and to meet at this spot today.

Though she longed to see him, Jess’s mind had been in a continuous problem parade. She’d finally decided that the expedient thing would be to sell the Carpe Diem and take the new job a thousand miles away from Nocturne Falls.

A leaf turned in lazy circles in an eddy below. Without warning, the unsuspecting sprig spiraled into a vortex, spinning against a force that compelled it toward oblivion.

Fed by nostalgia, and perhaps a liberal dose of ‘I’ll show you’, she had jumped feet first into her own spinning water.

With only herself to blame, she managed to splash into Nocturne Falls with a vengeance.

Solange’s revelations forced both to face the truth. A shifter and a psychic couldn’t be any happier than a leaf spinning to its own demise.

Two squirrels scampered around a tree beside her, disappearing into the branches. Like with like.

A sudden warmth flooded over her, spreading from head to toes, covering her in bliss and erasing her fears.

Another rustle above, followed by the sound of wings. Anticipation and terror commingled with the tingling buzz throughout her body.

"Ryan, it’s okay. Come down beside me."

Something landed nearby, but she continued staring at the waterfall. Could she bear to see him as an animal?

Would she freak? And if the sight repulsed her, would that destroy him?

If he left in humiliation, the pain she caused him would stay buried inside her forever. It can’t end this way. They will part in dignity, not in disgust or shame.

Eyes closed, she turned, quarter inch by quarter inch only opening them when she was sure she faced him.

Her breath caught. His feathers, a blend of dark and light browns, overlapped in soft tones and hues, except for one stray wing feather that stuck out from the others. Just as unruly as his hair.

The dark piercing eyes that had bore into her soul as Ryan Ford stared at her as a stately falcon.

Ashamed that she’d been afraid to see him shifted, she wished she could find the right words. Or, any words. Her mouth opened but her throat was paralyzed.

The falcon dipped his head. He understood. The unspoken question hovered between them.

And then she had the answer. "I’m ready."

A glowing aura surrounded the falcon and she couldn’t pull her eyes away from the transformation into a full-grown man dressed in flannel and denim.

She licked her dry lips and swallowed the lump in her throat. "Well, you certainly know how to make a grand entrance."

"There’s my jacket. I wondered where I left it." Ryan managed a watchful smile. "At least you didn’t run."

No. She hadn’t. Nor considered it.

More than ever, she wanted his strong arms around her again. She did belong somewhere. Here. With him. She would never leave his side. Or Nocturne Falls, or give up Carpe Diem. She was home.

She bolted toward him, then stopped. What if he’d changed his mind?

No way could that happen.

"We’d save time here if you’d kiss me," she said.

Pulling her into a tight hug, he nearly squeezed the last ounce of air from her lungs. "Hey." The word muffled into his chest. "I. Said. Kiss."

His lips playfully nibbled down her neck. "Are you sure?"

"Never more about anything in my life. Ryan Ford, I love you."

"Even though you see what I am?"

"But, I already know what you are. A strong, creative, considerate being that I will love until time ends."

Something flew overhead. Surely that woman hadn’t nosed into their privacy again.

Ryan’s chest tensed against hers.

If this was how that busy-body Solange planned to carry out her mother-in-law role, she had another thing coming.

Something caught Jess’s eye as it floated to the ground beside them.

"A feather?"

His face beamed. "From Mother. She won’t bother us again. Except advice on decorating the nursery. She loves a tidy nest."

Jess’s laughter rose over the forest hush. "I’m all for a few concessions. Just not green walls. I don’t like green."

"I’ll make a note. Now, future mate, may I give you a proper kiss?"

"Proper is not exactly what I see in our immediate future."

Jess slipped off the jacket, laid it on the soft leaf bed, and gently pulled him down beside her.

"And just what do you see?" He asked.

Her kiss was all the answer he needed.

THE END

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About the Author

Candace Colt published her first work, a memoire, in eighth grade.  She collects characters and story ideas like some people collect teacups and stamps. And with past careers in health care, teaching, college administration, and library science she has an overflowing file full of ideas. She writes contemporary and paranormal romance. 

Connect with her:        Website   *   Twitter  *  Facebook

With special thanks to this awesome team:

Cover Artist:   Rebecca Poole

Copy Editor:   Gail Agor

Internal Formatting:  Caitlin Labud

Beta Readers:  Raven Winter, Brynda Wolf

Magical Muses:  Wynter Daniels and Jax Cassidy

World Creator:  Kristen Painter

Coming soon from Candace Colt

The Falcon Tames the Psychic

Brianna Putnam needs a juicy scandal and fast. Up for a promotion at a high-profile tabloid, she has one month to convince a hard-nosed editor that she has the chops for the job. What could be better than a story exposing Nocturne Falls, a town full of supernatural beings?  She has the perfect cover. Her grandmother and her cousin are self-proclaimed psychics who live there. No time like the present to meet the family.

Play-boy falcon-shifter Connor Ford is filthy rich with nowhere to be and nothing to do. About to give up on finding his life’s purpose, he meets Brianna, and his passion ignites for the beautiful woman with the strange curiosity about his hometown.  

When he discovers she’s played everyone for fools, Connor arranges a surprise to turn the tables on her.

Finally accepting her psychic gift, Brianna is overcome by guilt after submitting the story. When her editor arrives to see the town for himself, she has a chance to redeem herself. But will it be too late?

Table of Contents

Title Page

Introduction

Dedication

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

About the Author

Special Thanks

Coming Soon From Candace Colt