Something vibrated against my backside, making me yelp. A pair of ravens pecking on smashed french fries nearby squawked and took to the sky.
Stupid phone. Chuckling, I took it out of my back pocket. I was freaking out over flying bird shadows. How sad was that? And I was seriously out of shape. I placed my hand on the side of my abdomen. Who gets a side stitch after running a few yards?
Lucy’s name appeared on the screen, requesting a video chat. I swiped the screen to accept her call, and the sweet, melodic tones of my little sister’s voice spilled out.
“Mom wants to know if—hey! Is that a mountain behind you? Jerk! You lied to me.”
Doe-like hazel eyes glared out from the screen. My lip twitched as I tried to keep a straight face. Anyone who didn’t know Lucy would probably think she was a delicate flower. With her girlish voice, slender neck, and silky brown hair, it was hard not to think that.
They would be wrong.
And more than likely, that underestimation would lead to a gut punch if they ever uttered the word “princess” in her presence.
Lucy, the ultimate skater girl, preferred wearing loose t-shirts, skinny jeans, and a gray beanie. She wore that grungy cap even in the summer, which in Texas was all year round.
“I didn’t lie,” I said, making my way toward the stairs leading to the bypass bridge. Jo was probably at the top by now and the longer she had to wait, the grumpier she was going to be.
“You did too, McLiar! And why are you laughing?”
I shouldn’t laugh, but I couldn’t help myself. When Lucy was mad, she looked eight instead of twelve. Maybe it was the way she stuck out her bottom lip to make herself look menacing. She didn’t. Not even close.
“I’m sorry. Really, I am.”
She thought about it for a moment, chewing her gum. She blew a large pink bubble, letting it pop before she spoke.
“Yeah, well, you should be. You promised no secrets, remember? Where are you anyway?”
Of course, Lucy would remember the promise I’d made to her when she was five and hold me to it. For the most part, I did. I recalled the day vividly. We were under a tornado warning and it was raining like crazy. Terrified of thunder, she usually hid in the closet when it stormed. Not this time. I found her in the backyard climbing the huge oak tree. When I finally got her down, she wouldn’t tell me why she’d wanted to visit the unfinished treehouse in the worst thunderstorm central Texas had seen in years.
I’d told her sisters never kept secrets from each other. When I promised not to tell anyone, she had sobbed against my chest, saying she wanted to fly away and find Bob. She said Bob had to leave and couldn’t come back. Bob might have been her imaginary friend, but by the way she’d cried for days afterward, he was very real to her.
“Hoover Dam,” I said. “I’m taking Jo up to the bypass bridge.”
“You’re in Nevada? Jo didn’t make you drive straight to a casino? You’re lucky you’re still alive.” She blew another bubble, snapping it and sucking it back into her mouth in one breath. “And dude, why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve gone to Craig Ranch. I’ve been dying to go. Now you’re gone, the parental units are leaving, and I have to stay with Aunt Marmie.”
Aunt Marmie was a close friend of the family. She was sweet, but quirky. She always said the oddest things and loved to talk about how she’d traveled the world when she’d worked as a dancer on a cruise ship. Her stories were so outlandish, it was hard to believe any of them, and her house was not a place where anyone would want to spend too much time. It was like an episode of Hoarders waiting to happen. She never threw anything away.
“Why are they sending you to Aunt Marmie’s?”
“Dad’s taking Mom to a B&B in the Hill Country. Second honeymoon or something. Aren’t they too old for that stuff?”
I smirked. “You’re never too old for that.”
Lucy shuddered. “Eww! Stop talking about it.”
“You’re the one who brought it up.”
“Yeah, yeah. Anyways, you’re there. I’m here. And my entire weekend is gonna blow.”
“You’ll survive. If you fall down at Aunt Marmie’s, call me and I’ll send in the search dogs.”
“Har, har. Very funny. Ooh, turn your phone around. I think I know that guy.”
Startled I wasn’t alone, my eyes snapped up. A tall man wearing a burnt orange baseball cap with a longhorn logo walked across the parking lot. Most of his face was hidden beneath the cap’s shadow and I could only see the clean-shaven cut of his jaw. He kept his head low, hands jammed into his pockets, shoulders hunched forward as if he didn’t want to bring attention to himself.
There was something about him, something different from the typical tourist. His lithe body moved across the parking lot with a quiet elegance of a professional ballet dancer.
As if he’d heard my sister’s voice, he paused a few feet away from me. My eyes drifted to the tattoo covering his forearm. In the center of the intricate design was a dog’s paw print surrounded by wings.
His head lifted slightly, paused, and then lowered again. Who was he? Did I know him?
“Karenna! Let’s go, girl, before I drown in a puddle of sweat. Can it get any hotter here?” Jo stood next to an RV at the end of the parking lot.
Longhorn Cap Guy sped away, ducking his head even lower as he passed Jo. He dashed up the steps, taking two at a time.
“I gotta go.”
“Play twenty bucks for me on the craps table!” Lucy yelled before I hung up.
As Jo and I climbed up the steps, the wind gusted, sending dust everywhere. It was so strong I held onto the railing, hoping not to be blown away. I squinted, barely able to see through the thick cloud of grit.
With her high heels, I didn’t know how Jo managed to make it up the stairs without tripping. She grumbled in Spanish under her breath, thumbs flying over her phone. Dorian must’ve said something terrible. Again. I wasn’t surprised.
When we reached the top, we made our way through the crowd of tourists to the center of the bridge. The view was amazing. A white wall spanned the width of the Colorado River. Behind the massive dam, Lake Mead shimmered a deep blue-green hue. A thick white strip lined the rocks just above the waterline. Jagged mountains bordered the sky for miles.
“Put that away. You have to see this,” I said, nudging her arm. Not even Jo could deny the beauty of the Black Canyon once she saw it.
Jo’s eyes darted up for a split second then flicked down to the phone’s screen. “Water. Big rocks. Yeah, amazing.”
I sighed. Normally she was supportive of what she called my “weird” choices of entertainment. I loved opera. She hated it, saying if she wanted to listen to screeching women, she’d visit her aunts. But last year when the Austin Opera performed Bizet’s Carmen, my favorite, she’d bought two tickets and treated me to a girl’s night out. Afterwards she’d admitted enjoying the music and had only fallen asleep once.
“Oh, no he didn’t.” Jo’s thumbs jabbed at the screen.
“What’s wrong?”
She let out a slew of curses in Spanish.
“Mira, Pendejo. I don’t need you. Take that.” She stabbed the screen with her finger. “And that.” She stabbed it again. “I blocked your sorry ass. Cabrón!”
Finally. I was thrilled Jo had finally come to her senses about that jerk. I’d never understood why she was drawn to him in the first place. When he’d first moved into town, he’d asked me out several times. Even though he was model handsome and polite, I couldn’t get past the creepy feeling I had when I was near him. I was shocked when he’d asked Jo out and she’d said yes. She was not her spunky, outspoken self when she was around him. It was like he’d put her under a spell.
“What happened?”
“I broke up with Dorian. He said he”—she curled her fingers into quotes—“wanted some space. Seriously! Like being thousands of miles away isn’t enough ‘space.’ Pendejo! So I gave him space.”
She stuck her chin up, long lashes fluttering. She hated crying and rarely did so. The last time I remember seeing her cry was when I met her in first grade. I was in the schoolyard reading when I heard a girl wailing, “Shut up.” The class bully was two years older than the rest of the class and had decided Jo would be his next target when he’d made fun of her accent.
But the more Jo cried, the harder the bully laughed. The rest of the kids had just stood there terrified, backing away slowly as they watched. I didn’t know where I’d gotten the courage, especially because the bully was three inches taller than me, but I’d marched right up to him, and whacked him upside the head with my book. I’d expected him to fight back. I’d never expected him to fall unconscious to the ground with blood streaming down his chin. I’d been shocked my puny arms could swing that hard. Freaked out by what I’d done, I grabbed Jo’s hand and ran with her back into the building. We’d been best friends ever since.
“He doesn’t deserve you.”
“I know.” Hurt lingered on her face. Something about how she’d said it made me think she really didn’t know how awesome she was.
“Okay, we’re supposed to be having fun,” she said a little too brightly. “Ugh! My hands are a mess, and there’s frosting all over my phone. Do you have a napkin or something?”
“Yeah, hold on a sec.” I opened my overstuffed bag, and two tubes of mascara and an eyelash curler popped out.
“What is all this and where are all my things?” I rummaged through the overflowing purse crammed with cosmetics.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Jo said, bending to pick up the makeup. “I put some of my stuff in your bag.”
“I can see that.” I plunged my hand deeper until I finally felt the once neatly folded tissues clumped in a messy wad at the bottom. Wiggling my hand, I slowly pulled it out when a blast of wind swept over the bridge, pushing me back. I yanked my hand out, flailing as I reached for the railing. Half the bag’s contents flew out—eyeshadow and blush containers clattered on the concrete walkway. A strange mass of black flecks dotted the air.
“What is that?” I yelled over the wind, scrambling to pick up what was left of the broken plastic containers.
“Ah! My lashes! Grab them, Karenna, before they—” Jo stopped midsentence her dark eyes widening.
“Holy Papasito,” she breathed.
I shoved whatever I could back into my bag. Before I could ask what was going on, a deep, sexy voice spoke.
“Excuse me, miss. I believe these are yours.”
“I’m sorry, mister. The wind . . . blew . . . I . . . ”
The ability to formulate any coherent words was lost the moment my eyes rested on the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. Broad shoulders occupied my entire field of vision. My brain hung up the “Sorry, We’re Closed” sign, slammed the door, and shut the blinds.
Sapphire eyes held me spellbound as I slowly stood. From his faded, ripped jeans, to the black shirt covering his torso, his clothes molded to him, accentuating every muscle of his lithe body.
He was stunning. The wind tousled his black hair, giving him a sexy, just-rolled-out-of-bed look. A light smattering of stubble lined his square jaw.
His skin was flawless except . . .
Wait. Is that . . . ?
I leaned in closer to the handsome stranger, mortified by what I saw.