“Zach Attack, go see if Grandpa’s up and wants breakfast,” Shelby called over her shoulder as she flipped pancakes. Had she been on that mountain only yesterday? Despite a decent night’s sleep, she was dragging. Man, she didn’t feel festive this morning, but for her eight-year-old nephew’s sake, she wore the fake tuxedo apron and made funny faces.
The last thing she wanted to be was silly.
As Zach dashed out of the kitchen, her smile fell. No energy to keep up appearances. No way could she come up with her usual jokes. Her shoulders and back still ached from that near-catastrophe of a rescue mission. Her headache from using her powers hung around as well.
The one bright spot from yesterday also freaked her the hell out and then depressed her: Eric.
She’d always thought of him as another brother. For the most part.
Then, over the past month or so something had changed in the way she looked at him.
And that was part of the problem, wasn’t it?
Damned if she would answer that question.
Unfortunately, her hormones reacted like a schoolgirl, hand up, all eager to respond to the question. Idiot hormones. Shut up.
Last night, she had lain in bed, warmed by the memory of New Eric. No longer the quiet guy, no longer the buddy, this Eric 2.0 had some seriously sexy moves. And what that man could do with his mouth—wow. Had she known about his lips, she would have pushed past the friend-zone years ago, wouldn’t she?
No. Because she never got close to any man. Ever. With the few distant past attempts, she had ended up hurt. Ended up with another piece taken out of her confidence. Ended up with even less trust in herself. To be honest, it hurt too much to risk rejection anymore.
At the smell of charred dough, she frowned and trashed the batch of burnt pancakes as Zach danced back in. “Grandpa’s up, but he doesn’t want breakfast,” he said.
Damn it.
In his late sixties, Austin Taggart had been vigorous and hearty. Indestructible. Or so they all thought.
Then Mom had died five years ago.
Then Kerr got hurt in the Middle East two years ago.
Her older brother, Vaughn, had split a little over a year ago.
Garrison’s wife left around this time last year. Later, as it turned out, she’d died of shady circumstances, directly or indirectly courtesy of Hank Brand.
Then the Brands started making bids to buy the ranch. Only their offers had increased in the aggressive tone until they simply burned the barn to get the Taggarts to leave. Allegedly.
When that didn’t work, Hank and Wyatt kidnapped Zach and Garrison’s girlfriend, Sara—the night Shelby’s powers evolved. At least she’d kept that tidbit about her brain short-circuiting from her father. Dad didn’t need more to worry about.
So, yeah, the sheer amount of insanity he had dealt with in the past several years had taken a massive toll on him. The stress had built and built until his body couldn’t take any more. Now that the stroke had done its damage, now that the past five years had caught up to him, and now that life had beaten him down, he wasn’t recovering.
Had he lost the will to continue? How long would he be with them? Tears made her eyelids burn. He was dwindling before all of their eyes, and there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about it. What she’d give to turn back time.
She rubbed the back of her wrist on her aching temple. Enough. Now was not the time for wishful thinking.
Spinning around, she checked on Zach. Her nephew, an auburn-haired mini-me of Garrison, minus the temper, bounced in his seat. She checked the time. Seven o’clock.
She smiled at his chatter as he described the activities planned for a big day of second grade, where every day was a new adventure more exciting than the one before.
“You want a special pancake, Zach Attack?”
“Yes please, Auntie Shelby. Mickey Mouse, please.” The kid vibrated with energy this morning. What she’d give to bottle that kid’s enthusiasm.
Dishing up pancakes and bacon, she said, “Pour milk for everyone, ok?”
Only, the number of “everyone” was dwindling. She forced a sigh around the tight spot in her chest. Quit it. She still had her family and the ranch. And the Taggarts had each other’s backs, no matter what the situation. They would stick together, even in the face of whatever those crazy Brand folks had planned.
Man, she’d love to noodle into their neighbors’ heads and figure out what kind of mayhem they were cooking up. Do a little spying on whatever operation was going on over there. Find some way to prepare and fight back.
Unfortunately, she could only detect emotions. She couldn’t go fetch someone’s thoughts. The best person to reach inside a Brand’s mind and yank out the truth would be Garrison with his human lie detector capabilities. Too bad taking either her power or his up a notch could render them comatose. Or worse.
But she had eyes, a good dose of sneakiness, and a quality set of binoculars. So, almost as good as Garrison’s psychic ability. If she could break away from ranch duties today, she could ride out to a vantage point and check out Brand Manufacturing, Inc., or whatever they called their crazy operation over there.
“Yep.” Zach jumped up and ran to the fridge. Giving her a quick hug around the waist that made her tear up again, he took the milk out and filled up four glasses. Not five.
“Morning.” Garrison strolled through the back door. A smile softened the corners of his mouth. The tense set of his shoulders had disappeared.
Didn’t take a genius to figure out where he’d been last night, and it wasn’t here at home.
Jealous, much?
Why? Because he had found someone wonderful who loved him despite his strange powers and crazy family?
“Hi, Dad!” Zach waved. “Is Mickey ready?” He ran over to Shelby’s side with hope written all over his guileless face.
“Sure thing, dude!” She lifted the pancake creation with her spatula, laid the big pancake with two smaller round pancakes as ears on his plate.
“Whiskers!”
“Patience, grasshopper,” she said with an accent, laying two crispy bacon strips in a narrow X under the two banana slice eyes.
“Wow!” He held the plate with care as he returned to the table and dove into his breakfast.
She peered at Garrison. “You want anything?”
“Um, not hungry.” A flush stole up his neck and cheeks. Yes, he definitely had enjoyed a hearty . . . breakfast . . . before returning to the ranch this morning.
Getting his attention, she pointed to her cheek. He had salsa-red lipstick on his jaw, thanks to one Ms. Sara Lopez.
He ducked his head and wiped his face.
The back door clapped open again as Kerr limped through, hanging his hat on the peg next to the door and shrugging out of the oilskin duster. He’d started his day early, as usual, as the scent of cattle and hay that wafted in with him attested.
“Ooh, pancakes? For me? You shouldn’t have.” He batted his eyes, making Zach laugh, then settled in a chair with a groan as he straightened out his prosthetic leg.
“Yes, pancakes, but don’t get used to it. Tomorrow’s your day to cook,” she warned as she poured more batter in the pan and fried four more strips of bacon.
“I’m on it. My contribution will be cereal delight!” He grinned while Zach pulled a face.
Kerr shot a sideways glance at Garrison’s stupid-happy smile this morning and rolled his eyes with an exaggerated sigh.
They didn’t need psychic abilities to make fun of their older brother. That man was so whipped. If Sara told him to jump, he’d beg for her to tell him how high.
Good for him. That woman mellowed big brother out. He needed Sara in his life.
After a few more minutes, Shelby brought the meal over to Kerr, pulled out a chair, set down her own plate, and bellied up to the table. Zach continued his commentary, pausing to eat a bite here and there.
Garrison rolled his head and neck.
Yeah, real stressed out. Not. Her brother radiated just-got-good-lovin’.
Ew. This was Garrison she was thinking about. Her big brother.
He glanced at his son’s plate and then pushed back from the table. “Finished, buddy? Don’t want to be late for school.”
Zach wiped his face and ran his dish to the sink without being asked.
“Wash up, then we’ll go,” Garrison said.
“Bye, Auntie Shelby, Uncle Kerr!” Her nephew pounded up the stairs, the bathroom door closing with a bang.
Kerr cleared his throat. “So, we should talk. Dad’s not doing well, huh?”
“No. Not getting better, anyway,” Garrison muttered.
She blew a curl off her forehead. “Maybe it’s time to get someone who can help him.”
“What about some therapy? Or a short stay in rehab?” Kerr knew all about those two options. Knew them too well.
With a snort, she pushed her food around on the plate. “Rehab stint? With Dad? Good luck convincing him to go. Talk about an immovable object. I took him in for a checkup last week and that was pretty much against his will. No idea what the doctor said, since Dad wouldn’t let me go back to the room with him. And Dad wouldn’t talk about the visit afterward.”
“You think something serious is going on?” Kerr asked.
“Of course, but he’s not about to tell us. Stubborn.” She rested her forehead on the heel of her hand. “I wish Mom were here. She’d knock some sense into him.”
Garrison ran his hand through his hair. “You’re right about that. Really, ever since Mom died, he’s kind of . . . faded.”
No one spoke for a minute. Finally, Shelby blew out a frustrated puff of air. “Well. We can’t fix anything the way things are right now. What about getting a nurse or aide? Where are we with that plan?”
“Put the ad in earlier this week,” Garrison said. “Pretty low chance of anyone taking the job, between the remote location and the low pay.”
“You never know.” Bless his heart, but Kerr tried to stay positive, even in this tough situation.
She studied him. “You doing okay? Still having those dreams?”
Kerr nodded. “Exploding volcano, woman’s arm reaching for me. Same old.”
“Yeah.” Garrison frowned. “But my dreams have now added a darkness to the picture.”
“Mine too.” Shelby sat up straighter. “That was a recent development, like the past week or so.”
“Weird.” Kerr nodded. “I thought it had to do with my . . . memories. I didn’t realize you two were seeing it as well.”
“What’s it all mean?” Shelby asked. “We’ve never had the same dreams before.”
Garrison rubbed his forehead. “No idea. I’m happy if I can get some sleep.”
She snorted.
“At least bombs aren’t going off when I have those volcano and dark shape dreams,” her twin muttered.
Shelby rubbed a circle on the wood tabletop. “Good point. Do the dreams upset you?”
Kerr tapped his forehead. “You can’t tell?”
“I could if I wanted to, but my filters are better this morning after I got a good night’s sleep. Also, you’re not projecting any strong emotions, so there’s not a lot to block—” She winced a split second before a truck door slammed.
When Kerr shot her a knowing smirk, she longed to wipe that grin off his face. “Filters don’t keep out strong emotions, huh?”
She scowled and rubbed her middle finger on her cheek, making sure her brother saw it. “Stay out of it.”
“Now it’s an ‘it’? Oooh, fabuloso, sis. I can’t wait to hear more.”
Eric stomped through the kitchen door and paused.
“I’m out of here.” Garrison smiled. He clapped Eric on the upper arm. “Good luck, man.”
Zach ran down the stairs and followed Garrison out the front door.
Ignoring Eric, she glared at Kerr’s opening mouth. “Shove it. Or I’ll do it for you.”
His expression transformed from mischievous to angelic, and she didn’t buy the innocent act for one minute. “I didn’t do anything.”
Eric hung up his hat, running his hand through his sandy hair. Like Shelby wanted to do. Damn it.
“Am I interrupting something?”
“No,” she said, right as Kerr said, “Yes.”
“Um.” Eric’s eyes darted from Shelby to Kerr.
“Still going to work on the fences?” Kerr asked her. Goading.
“Yes.” She tried to make the word as final and unfriendly as possible. She definitely didn’t want company, since she had other plans besides mere fence work.
“Alone?” Eric’s eyebrows shot up.
“Of course.”
“But Garrison said no one goes out alone,” he reminded her. His chin rose. Damn supercilious know-it-all. Bet he was the class monitor back in elementary school.
“It’s repairing fences. Simple. Any person can do it.” She glared at them. “Besides, don’t you two have a hunting trip to set up?”
“We’re not leaving for two more days. I can take care of most of the equipment,” Kerr offered with a negligent lift to his shoulder, like he didn’t know what he was doing, giving Eric an opening. “We’ll work on route plans and logistics tonight. Weather forecast will be updated by then.”
Eric grinned, dark blue eyes burning into Shelby. “How about breakfast before we get to work, then?” His smiling face made her want to punch it.
She crossed her arms. “Too bad. Should’ve been here on time. Kitchen’s closed. And I’m leaving in a few minutes.”
He crossed the room in four long strides and swiped the remaining pieces of bacon from the plate next to the skillet, finishing them in record time. “Delicious. Thank you for the lovely breakfast.” He washed his hands and dried them on a paper towel. “Now, I believe you were heading for the back forty to fix fences?”