The Falcon Finds His Mate Page 7

  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.