The Falcon Tames the Psychic Page 3

  ~*~

  “Hold your horses.” Connor went inside the kitchen where Crealde sat at attention amid cat food cans he’d knocked to the floor, howling in a relentless ‘I-am-starving’ siren.

  “Did you think I’d forget to feed you?”

  Crealde turned and raised his tail, flashing his bottom toward Connor.

  “Keep that up and see what you get.” How could one cat be so egocentric to think nothing in the world meant more than a filled dish?

  Connor restacked the food tins on the counter, then decided to put them in a corner on the kitchen floor, where they’d land anyway.

  “Buddy, what would you like this morning? A nice liver pâté? Chunks of beef in gravy?”

  A can slid across the floor and careened off Connor’s foot. “Guess it’s ocean fish day.”

  Connor held his breath and spooned the fishy goop into the dish. Crealde pushed his head between Connor’s feet and immediately began scarfing down the unappetizing gumbo.

  “Bon appétit.”

  Though he’d only been in the Carpe Diem a few times before he agreed to house sit, Connor remembered how noisy and busy the place always was. Except for Crealde’s meal-slurping in the kitchen, the tomb-like quiet in the building was unnerving.

  After her sudden departure for what she called a ‘time travel adventure,’ Echo had turned the building and business over to his brother’s fiancé, Jess Callahan.

  Connor had no doubt Jess could handle it. There were few women like her and Ryan had been darn lucky to get her. Though gifted with clairvoyance, Jess was still human. Putting up with a falcon-shifter husband would be a full-time job by itself.

  At least it would be for Connor’s mate.

  Crealde jumped up by the sink and enjoyed a post-breakfast tongue bath while Connor rinsed the cat’s food dish.

  He looked out the window at Echo’s pickup truck and its tarp-covered load.

  The latest trip to the dump would be two hours out of his life that he would never get back. No big deal.

  He’d already chalked up all these care-taker duties as a portion of the penance he owed to the universe. If he helped every old lady he saw cross the street for the next ten years, it wouldn’t make up for his reckless past life.

  But he didn’t regret a minute of it.

  “Crealde, I think it’s time we get this day going.”

  With a flaumph, the cat dropped to the floor and waddled to the screen door. He rose on his back feet, stretched a front paw to catch a claw in the handle, and then opened it.

  Before Connor caught it, the door banged shut nearly smacking the cat on its behind.

  “Damn it, Crealde. I wish you’d stop that.”

  But why would a cat give a flip that most everyone in Nocturne Falls had superhuman hearing, and every loud noise drove them up a wall?

  Wonder how Brianna was feeling today? She’d downed that wine like a pro, but as small as she was, it might prove a mistake this morning.

  Ian was right. She was a little spooky, and just the type who’d have a great time in a library; a place he’d rarely visited.

  Connor doubted she’d find anything exciting among the dusty files. The real Nocturne Falls story wasn’t written anywhere.

  Thanks to the Ellinghams’ foresight, this old town had found a new life. Without a place like this to live and prosper, his family would have been screwed.

  He checked the tie downs on the truck and crossed his fingers. When he got to the dump, he better find it was a load of junk.

  The last time, everything he’d loaded had been returned to the building and the truck bed was full of leaves and branches.

  Damn those sprites or whoever they were.

  That was another thing. Brianna had cherished that old snow globe like it was gold. Whatever. To each their own.

  ~*~

  Of course, Nocturne Falls was spic-and-span clean this morning. Not a paper or straw on the streets. And not her bracelet.

  Espresso and two pain pills had reduced Brianna’s raging headache to a hum. But it was still there, thunking away on her skull as she scanned every nook and cranny on the sidewalk.

  She’d worn that bracelet for almost eighteen years, taking it off so rarely that she forgot when the last time was. All those years just to lose it here?

  And those voices. Jumbled and indistinct, they filled her head. Half sentences. Half thoughts.

  Hallucinations had held hands with her severe migraines. She remembered how awful these were when she was a kid.

  Were they back?

  Wheels on the sidewalk caught her attention.

  “Good morning.” A cheerful voice called from behind. Or at least she thought it was a real voice.

  Thank goodness. It was the bartender from The Poisoned Apple.

  He hopped off his skateboard and walked alongside her. “Glad I found you. I think you left something behind last night.”

  “My bracelet?” Of course. That’s where she’d taken it off, sometime during the first glass of wine, for no good reason, other than nerves.

  “I’m on my way there now. It’s in our lost and found.”

  Someone drove by and honked, sending a shockwave through Brianna’s skull. She turned to the street and recognized the old pickup truck from the Carpe Diem. Connor, backward hat in place, hoisted his arm in a salute out the window of the muffler-challenged truck.

  Ian waved and yelled back, right into her ear. Stereo sound explosions.

  She tossed back the last of her coffee, happy that the pub was only a half-block further.

  “That’s it.” Brianna slid the silver bangle on her arm. “Thank goodness.” Moments later, the tight band strangling her head for the last nine hours was gone. She’d been stressing more than she thought.

  She thanked Ian and explained that not many people in an LA bar would be this honest.

  “That’s the way we are here. I’d have brought it to you, but I didn’t know where you were staying,” he said.

  “I’m just happy to have it back. It was a present from my grandmother.” She averted his gaze. She’d almost said Echo’s name.

  “Hope you enjoy your day,” he said.

  Indeed, she would. Outside, she glanced at the clock in the town square. The Gingerbread Inn still offered breakfast for another hour, and she was starving.

  ~*~

  On the way back from the landfill, Connor stopped at the Ford estate to inventory his brother’s tools and supplies. If the sprites left him alone, he’d have that building cleared out and ready for his brother’s studio with only one or two more trips. He hoped.

  He was surprised to find his mother, Solange, inside the studio. Arms folded across her chest, she leaned on the back-door frame looking out to the pine trees bordering the property perimeter.

  “Made your decision?” She asked without turning around.

  “I have.” He had his eye on a one-bedroom cottage not far from the Carpe Diem, with enough room for his weight machine and a carport for his Porsche.

  He hadn’t driven his baby for two weeks. Echo’s pickup was fine for hauling trash but didn’t have much highway jazz.

  “I hate the thought of living here alone,” she said.

  Connor knew what was next. The poor me song. He wouldn’t feed into it. Not today. “You know what I think you should do.”

  “I won’t sell.” She turned to Connor, her face dark with worry. “Your father and I came to this town with nothing. We built this place. We raised both of you here.” She walked to the threshold leading to the driveway. “And he died in that house.”

  Even more reason to pack up and move, if you asked Connor. If cleaning out Echo’s shed took loads of dumpster trips, he shuddered to think about emptying a five-bedroom house. His mother could hire someone for that.

  The ceiling in here was higher but the new location had more floor space. The collaboration of Jess’s carpentry skills and Rya
n’s design ideas would turn an old shed into a showcase.

  And not a minute too soon. Ryan’s client orders came in from all over the world.

  A few weeks ago, Connor took his brother’s place and flew on a private jet to deliver a commissioned carved stallion to Dubai. Connor had never been prouder of his brother than when he witnessed the new owner’s delight.

  Ryan Ford had found his niche. He had the love of his life. He was happy.

  Connor Ford glanced at his reflection in a wall mirror. In a sleeveless t-shirt, holey jeans, and greasy cap, he stared at a man with an uncertain future.

  He made an overhead press with a three-foot section of an oak tree trunk that Ryan had started carving. If he had his way, Connor would buy a fitness center and work out all day.

  “The board of directors is going into special session at the end of the month,” Solange said.

  Connor’s arms weakened, and he dropped the wood on the concrete floor.

  “Why?” He looked for any dings or nicks. The last thing he needed to do was ruin Ryan’s next commissioned piece.

  “It’s been almost a year since your father died. They’re ready to install a permanent Chairman,” Solange said.

  “You think they’re still planning a hostile takeover?”

  “Our attorneys do. But I think we can still win the majority.”

  Who’s this we? Ryan had no interest and Connor didn’t know enough to be dangerous about corporate operations. And Solange had left decision making to her late husband.

  “How do you propose that happens?” He asked.

  Three inches taller than Connor, Solange was an imposing sight at a distance, let alone as she walked toward him.

  She placed her hand on Connor’s unshaven cheek.

  “I have an idea,” she said.

  Her icy words poured over him and triggered his sudden urge to shift and escape on the wind.

  Chapter Five

  Fueled on a cinnamon crunch sweet roll, peach compote, fresh yogurt, and two glasses of hand-squeezed orange juice, Brianna worked straight through lunch and into the late afternoon. The Nocturne Falls public library had tons of history resources, and the librarian had been delighted to provide her with anything they had, no questions asked.

  More than once a twinge of regret plucked Brianna’s heartstrings. No matter what she found, she’d made up her mind that she’d tell the truth about this town. So far, she hadn’t found a single shred of diabolic scandal.

  A family named Ellingham had rescued the little down-and-out town and rebuilt it into a tourist destination. The community embraced the concept of Halloween all year-round. There were monthly festivals and celebrations.

  Schools and shops just as anywhere else. A local newspaper. Hair salon. Bakery.

  All the trappings of small town USA.

  All cozy and sweet.

  Perhaps too cozy and too sweet.

  Brianna needed to burn off energy and clear her head. She had time to walk back to the B&B, change and get a good three-mile run in before dusk. The break would do her good.

  She ran along a gentle rolling trail that led through beautiful woods. The crisp late autumn air invigorated her, though she could only manage a slow jog around the families with baby strollers, kids on skates, dog walkers, and bicyclists.

  A blessing in disguise, this forced her to slow down and absorb the natural beauty around her. There were places in Oregon near her parents’ home that were like this. In June when the roses were in full bloom, Portland was the most beautiful place on earth. But this part of the world was a close second.

  A few yards ahead, she stopped at a bench to stretch her legs.

  Down a few feet from the bench was a stream flowing over flat rocks. A fat squirrel, oblivious to the intrusion of people around him, munched on a prized acorn.

  Her city-wise hackles skittered up her back as she sensed someone approaching from behind. She dropped her foot to the ground, prepared to run.

  “Brianna?”

  She jerked to attention. “Connor?”

  “Sorry if I startled you. Didn’t expect to see you out here.” Shirtless and glistening with sweat, Connor’s chest heaved as he caught his breath. He worked out and from the look of his six-pack, a lot.

  He stretched his arms overhead and to the sides allowing her a wonderful view of the elaborately tattooed wings that capped each shoulder.

  As he flexed his arms, the wings seemed to come alive.

  She battled with her desire to run her hands over those wings, and other places.

  “I love running, and this trail is awesome,” she said.

  “Running keeps me sane,” Connor said. “So, which way you headed?”

  She looked around and realized there were fewer people than before. The sun had dropped behind the trees casting long shadows.

  “I should get back to the Inn.”

  “Mind some company? It’s safe out here, but since you’re new, you might not be used to it.”

  They fell into a comfortable jog, side by side. Soon they were the only ones on the trail, and the only sounds were their footsteps and their breath.

  The path seemed longer going back, and much lonelier. Typical for her, she’d ventured out farther than she realized. She glanced over at the strong man running next to her.

  It was a relief having him at her side. He was right about not being used to this place.

  Her mind was messing with her. Twice she imagined something stared at her from the trees.

  She glanced down at her silver bracelet. She couldn’t blame every irrational thought on the migraines.

  Up ahead was another bench and a water fountain.

  “Can we stop a minute? I’m thirsty,” she said.

  Connor pressed the fountain button for her while she drank the fresh, cold water. As she wiped her hand across her lips, she realized he was staring off into the trees and hadn’t let go of the fountain button.

  He did a quick double take, noticed she was done and took a drink himself, then stared back to the woods.

  “What is it?” She asked in a hushed voice. If only she had her pepper spray.

  “Nothing. Ready to go?”

  Would nothing cause a man’s arm muscles to clench?

  A pair of bicyclists raced past, laughing as they pedaled ahead. Good news. They weren’t alone out here. She didn’t fear Connor, but she sensed he didn’t like what he saw in the trees.

  They ran in silence for the next fifteen minutes until they reached the town. She felt a little out of place running along the sidewalk with Connor, but much safer.

  In front of the Inn, she thanked him for coming along with her and apologized if he went far out of his way, all the time unsuccessfully prying her eyes away from his body.

  “Not a problem. I’m staying upstairs over the Carpe Diem until the owners come back. Maybe I’ll see you again?”

  Upstairs over the Carpe Diem? Oh, yes, he would see her again. And soon.

  ~*~

  Connor sprinted up the back steps to the apartment, where Crealde sat squarely in front of the door, his tail wrapped around his front feet.

  “So, I’m fifteen minutes late. Sue me.” After unlocking the door, Connor attempted to nudge the cat to the side. When Crealde wouldn’t budge, Connor stepped over him and into the kitchen. “I await your dinner choice, your royal catness.”

  While Connor dripped sweat in the middle of the kitchen, Crealde slowly tapped his nose along the top of each food can, finally stopping at the seafood medley.

  “Your wish is my obligation.” Connor opened the tin and dropped the blob into the cat dish, then shook his head in bitter disgust at the smell.

  This was one lucky animal.

  In what parallel universe would a falcon become a cat’s manservant?

  He peeled off his running shorts and tossed them and his socks into the washer,then padded naked through the apartment toward his
bathroom.

  As he rounded the corner from the kitchen, he plowed his thigh into the dining room table.

  “There’s no room to walk through this damn place,” he yelled.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Connor grabbed a placemat off the table and covered his privates the best he could. “What the hell?”

  “Don’t let me interrupt your shower plans. I can wait.”

  “Who can wait?” Connor’s eyes darted around the room. “Who are you?”

  Crealde jumped on the table and shifted his body side to side as though rubbing on something.

  Connor scooted behind an overstuffed chair.

  “I looked inside the shed. You’ve done a great job cleaning it out. Sorry there was so much. I can’t resist new things, nor can I throw out anything.”

  “Echo,” Connor whispered.

  “Go take your shower. I can’t stay long and I need to talk to you. Fully dressed might be more appropriate.”

  Heat bloomed on his neck and circled his ears. “I need to get to the door. Mind turning your head?” That is if she had a head to turn in this state.

  “I most certainly have a head, young man. And I can still read your mind so be careful. Now skedaddle.

  Placemat installed as a frontal cover-up, he backed his way into the bathroom. On the counter were a fresh pair of underwear, a T-shirt, and shorts.

  How did she do that?

  He raced through the shower, dressed in the clothes laid out for him, and came back to the dining room. A plate of his favorite rigatoni and sausage, a hot garlic roll, and a glass of peach ice tea waited for him.

  “Now then. Have a seat. Enjoy your meal,” she said.

  The initial shock had faded, replaced by a ravenous appetite stimulated by the glorious aroma of Italian spices, though he had no idea how the food got there.

  “Home delivery from Guillermo’s,” she said. “I put the bill on your tab.”

  He sniffed a laugh then bit off a chunk of the garlicky roll. “If I’m supposed to carry on a conversation with you, would you mind mentioning if you’re standing or sitting, and where?”

  “Sitting right across from you, sweetie.”