“Don’t wake up your mom, or she’ll yell at me.”
“Good night, Ollie.” He started to turn.
“Hey, Alex.”
“What?”
Ollie seemed to hesitate, but finally said, “She’ll forgive you. She has to eventually. Just shake it off.”
Right…
Alex waved at Ollie’s retreating truck and walked with heavy steps up his parents’ front porch.
“I’m not setting myself up just to get knocked down again.”
She was never going to forgive him. Ever. Never, ever.
Shit, he was drunk.
He sighed, hearing the steps come down from upstairs as he turned the doorknob. It wasn’t locked. Only an idiot with a death wish was going to break into the McCann house. They were the wolf alphas of Cambio Springs, and no one—not the most foolhardy Quinn—wanted to test their protective instincts.
“Alex?”
Oh yay. It was his father in the kitchen.
“Hey, Dad.”
Robert McCann was in his sixties but didn’t look a day over a very healthy fifty. His steel grey hair was cut close to his skull, and he still carried the military bearing of the former Army Sergeant he was. Alex’s father hadn’t been pleased his son didn’t follow him into the service. There had been McCanns serving in the US Army since the Civil War, and Robert didn’t let his son forget it. The fact that Alex had made millions in real estate didn’t provoke more than a slightly satisfied grunt.
Robert eyed him with suspicion. “Are you drunk?”
Alex leaned against the doorway of the kitchen. His father was making coffee. He didn’t need much more sleep than Alex did. Never had. It was a benefit if you were the alpha or the disappointing son of one.
“According to the half-empty bottle of bourbon Ollie forced me to abandon… yes.”
Robert curled his lip but pulled out another mug for coffee.
“That cat giving you problems again?”
“Not talking to you about her.”
He refused to talk about Ted with his father. Alex had learned his lesson when he’d been twenty-seven and heartbroken. His father had waited on the porch for Alex to get out of his car, took one look at his haggard face, then told him he knew their relationship would never have worked out anyway.
Alex had spent that weekend at Ollie’s cleaning out the attic and ignoring calls from his mother. He never mentioned Ted’s name in his father’s presence again.
“You know—”
He glared. “Not. Talking. About. Her.”
Robert lifted the corner of his mouth in what might have been a smile. “Fine. I expect you’ll figure it out. You have a plan for everything else.”
Though he’d never, ever say it publicly, Robert McCann had plenty of doubts about the resort his son planned for his hometown. That was fine. Alex was used to his father doubting him. He’d just work ten times harder to prove him wrong, like he always did.
His father splashed a little milk in Alex’s mug. A concession, since the Sergeant took his coffee black.
“Your mother got a call tonight from Kathy Crowe.”
Alex frowned and tried to focus through the bourbon haze. The coffee helped. “Jena’s mom?”
“Joe Smith took off.”
“What?” he asked again. “What are you talking about?”
“Took off. Left his family.”
“Are you talking about Allie’s Joe?”
Robert nodded. “Yep.”
“Our Allie?”
“Yep.”
“That fuc—!”
“Language.”
It brought him up short. He was still in his parents’ home, and if he had to guess, his mother was listening with her eagle ears. Not actual eagle ears. Julia McCann was from away, like most spouses in Cambio Springs. Her preternatural hearing must have rubbed off over the years of living in a town full of shapeshifters.
“That ass!” Alex set down his mug, anger and surprise cutting through the bourbon. “Are you kidding me?”
“No. Walked out the door right when Allie and the kids were sitting down to dinner.”
Alex was going to kill him.
“Allie’s going to need some help, son.” Robert motioned to the kitchen table and Alex followed him. “She’s not technically part of the pack, but—”
“She’s one of my best friends, Dad. It doesn’t matter that she’s a fox.”
The other canine shifters tended to be more solitary or roam in family packs. They didn’t share the strict hierarchy of the wolves, but since they all shared a common ancestor, they still held a certain level of loyalty.
“I agree. Plus, her mother was a McCann, even if it was distant. She’s family.”
“Oh, Allie…” Alex rubbed his face. “Is Kathy with her?” Allie’s mom had died when she was young, leaving her dad to raise his small family of shifters among his wife’s people. Jena’s mom had been a second mother to Allie.
“I think so. Your mom just found out a few hours ago. They’ll get her covered. But if there’s a need—”
“It’s covered. She’s covered.”
His father nodded approvingly, but didn’t say anything while they finished their coffee. It was moments like that, quiet moments, that Alex knew his dad did appreciate what he’d done. What he was trying to do. They may have had different personalities, but their hearts were in the same place. His father would go without before any of his family or pack.
On lonely nights, the knowledge that Alex had the resources to help the people he cared about was sometimes the only thing that kept him warm. The sacrifices were worth it at times like that. He had to remind himself it wasn’t all about him. It was about his father and mother. His sister. The pack who depended on him. His friend with four kids who needed someone to step up when their father stepped out.
“I’m not setting myself up just to get knocked down again.”
If he’d really lost Ted forever, it had to mean something.
The next morning, Alex roused himself from his childhood bed, downed as many aspirins as he could get away with, and slipped out the door after a quick conversation with his mom, who was already putting food together for Allie. Then, like every Saturday for the past few months, he headed to his sister’s house. The fact that she happened to be home was only a bonus.
Willow McCann lived at the edge of town, halfway out into the desert and away from as many distractions as she could. The fact that his baby sister was a famous painter with work shown across the Southwest surprised him some days. But then, when he thought about it more, it didn’t seem strange at all. In her own quiet way, Willow was the mirror image of their father. She was stubborn as hell. Alex figured that, one day, his little sister had simply decided she wanted everyone to buy her paintings for ridiculous sums of money. Then she quietly set about taking over her tiny corner of the art world until her mission was accomplished. She was like a special ops soldier with a paintbrush.
She had recently taken up ceramics. In a few months, she’d conquer that, too. People who didn’t know her thought she was shy. She wasn’t. Willow just didn’t like very many people and found it easier to adopt the mantle of a reclusive artist in their tiny community. It worked for her and kept most people away.
She was sitting in the shaded lean-to outside her house when Alex pulled up. Some thick vine covered the arbor, lush, green, and dripping with yellow flowers. The road up to her house was covered in a new coat of gravel, and her house gleamed. It was a small place that his grandparents had built, but Willow had improved it.
The desert landscaping was blooming with sparse beauty; colorful murals and tiled mosaics decorated the low garden walls, lending a lush look to the area, despite the arid plantings. She’s recovered an old wooden table with a blue and green glass mosaic and added red chairs she’d painted herself. A pot of coffee was sitting on the table, along with some sweet rolls he knew she probably only bought for him.
Willow didn’t loo
k up, but continued sketching in the pad at her left as she drank her coffee.
“Joe left Allie last night,” she said. “Took off right in the middle of dinner. What an asshole.”
“I heard.”
She finally looked up when his chair scraped across the terra cotta tiles under the arbor. “How did you hear?”
“Kevin called Jena, who came home from the bar. Jena called her mom to help watch the kids so they could go over to Ted’s. Kathy called Mom. I knew about it by the time I got home from the Cave. How did you know?”
She shrugged. “Allie called me this morning.”
“How’s she doing?”
“She’s worried about the kids.”
Joe was such an asshole.
Alex helped himself to the extra mug his sister had set out and filled it from the bright blue carafe. He didn’t say anything. It was one of the benefits of hanging out with his sister. They didn’t really need to talk much. Thirty years being related made non-verbal communication a breeze. She passed him the milk and a sweet roll without even looking up from her drawing.
“So,” she asked, “has anyone told Ollie?”
Leave it to Willow, asking the question that everyone was thinking and no one wanted to say.
“I haven’t.”
“Neither have I. I figure Joe deserves at least a day’s head start before we set Ollie loose on him. Anything less seems unsporting.”
Alex snorted. “What makes you think he’d track him down? I figure he’d just make sure Joe stayed gone.”
Willow didn’t say anything for a while. She finally looked up from the sketch and gave him a sad smile. “He would, if he thought Allie wanted him back.”
“Does she?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. She sounded sad but… relieved, I guess? I don’t think he was an easy guy to live with the past few years.”
Alex frowned. “Did we miss something, Will?”
“Allie always puts the best face on stuff. You know that. I think Joe just said a lot of mean shit to her.”
“Bad enough.”
She nodded. “Bad enough.”
They sat in silence for a few more minutes, before Alex asked the question he asked every week.
“Please? I promise I’ll be quiet.”
“No.”
“Pretty please?”
“I let you use my house as much as you want when I’m out of town. Don’t think I don’t see your messes, Alex. You are not moving in with me.”
“Mom and Dad are going to drive me crazy.”
“And you’d drive me crazy. You’re a big boy. Deal.”
“I’ll be in a mental hospital and you’ll only have yourself to blame.”
“You’re so full of shit. Why don’t you just get your own house? There’s not a lot, but there’s a few places in town available. Marcia and Phil are moving. Why not rent their house?”
Because…
In the back of his mind, he’d always figured that he and Ted would be back together by now and he’d be with her, skipping the awkward “Should we move in together?” conversation because he’d be homeless and she’d take pity on him. His condo in Huntington was already rented out and providing a very nice extra income. Even with as much money as he had tied up in the resort, cost wasn’t the issue. If he rented or bought a place without Ted, then he’d be conceding defeat.
Willow picked up her sketchbook again. “Or rent one of Jena’s trailers until you and Ted get back together.”
Alex stayed silent and glared at her, but she didn’t notice.
“I can give you tips on groveling, if you want.”
“You’re such a little shit sometimes, you know?”
Willow smiled. “I love you, too.”
By Saturday afternoon, he felt better physically, but he was still pissed about Joe, couldn’t get ahold of Ollie—no matter how many times he called his house and the bar—and his foreman, Marcus Quinn, had called him to the job site to rework the plans he thought they’d already finalized so the guys could get to work right away on Monday.
“I don’t get why we have to change the angle of the swimming pool that much.”
“Alex, man, I know you want the bungalows to face the water, but how much do we want to fight nature? If you want the creek to run down this way, then the natural course of the water…”
Alex let his mind drift as Marcus went into details. He knew at the end of the day, he’d end up agreeing with him. Marcus Quinn might have been born to a slightly shady clan of reptile shifters—his natural form was a king snake—but that hadn’t stopped him from being one of the best surveyors around. He’d gone into partnership with his wife’s brother a few years ago, and their business had grown to include landscape and general contracting, too.
Like most of the shifters from the Springs, Marcus married away. Josie was a hairdresser from Vegas, who seemed to take the knowledge that their three kids would eventually sprout scales in stride. Their oldest was almost ten, and Alex knew they were talking about moving back to the Springs full time.
“So, if you want the hot spring to feed into the lake we’re digging here, then the slope needs to start here. Which means the swimming pool is going to have to angle southeast a little more. That’s going to block some of your afternoon sun, but we’re talking about the hottest part of the day. I don’t think guests are going to complain too much.”
“No, you’re right.” And this was why he’d hired Marcus. The man was bright enough to see the big picture. “Go for it. Can you tweak it before Monday?”
“Yeah, it’s minor. And doing that is going to cut back on time, too. Because we’ll be working with the natural slope.”
“Plus, it’ll just look better.”
“If you’re going for a natural landscape, yeah.”
“We are.”
Marcus rolled up the plans and slid them into a cardboard tube before he tossed them in the cab of his pickup. “It’s going to be something, man.”
“You think?” Some days, Alex had his doubts.
Marcus slapped his shoulder. “It’s gonna be great. This place needs it. Plus, having a resort here is making it a lot easier to convince Josie to leave Vegas.”
Alex smiled. “Glad I could help.”
“Hey, she needs to work, too.”
“Does she still have blue hair? Not sure how many of the Springs girls are into blue hair.”
Marcus grinned. “My woman works the blue.”
Alex had to admit the man was right. He’s only met the woman once, but she’d made an impression, and it hadn’t been a bad one.
“Be good to have you guys in town,” he said.
“This place is gonna change a lot of stuff, man.” Marcus walked around to the side of his pickup. “For the good, Alex. It’s gonna be amazing.”
“Thanks, Marcus. See you Monday.”
“See you.”
A cloud of dust followed the pickup while Alex let down the tailgate of his white truck and sat at the edge of Springs Park, looking over the staked and leveled ground he’d bought from Old Joe Quinn and his own father. Resting at the base of the sandstone cliffs, the seven springs that gave the town its name bubbled steadily, as they had for centuries.
It had been his own ancestor, Robert McCann the first, who began the trek that started East of the Mississippi, in the Great Smoky Mountains, and had led West, gathering in others who were looking for a fresh start. Led by Thomas Crowe’s vision, they came to the desert, and it was Andrew McCann, the first water witch of Cambio Springs, who found the bubbling mineral waters and the hidden oasis, a fresh spring that provided the travelers drinking water.
The same spring that kept them alive also gave those first settlers the magic that let them shift into the animals that surrounded them. Know one knew why. Alex had stopped asking when he figured out none of the grownups had a clue, either. It just was.
He walked the perimeter of the property, the wolf in him happy to be chec
king the boundaries of his new territory. The reception building and office areas would border the existing city park. Placing the buildings there would allow for an attractive entrance to the resort and draw attention to the main shopping street, which the city was already cleaning, updating, and landscaping. Walls carefully concealed with palms and bougainvillea would give the resort guests and the town residents the privacy both craved.
It had been a condition of the town council that the residents still be able to use the two largest mineral pools as they always had. Alex, who had grown up playing in Springs Park, agreed. Marcus’s plans gave the resort access to draw from the hot mineral water and use the mud pools that were on the edge of the park. Those would be enclosed in the resort property and used for cosmetic treatments and mud baths.
The hot mineral water from the two largest pools would be fed into a man-made grotto, continually renewed by pipes carefully concealed beneath the ground. The runoff from the grotto would feed down into a cooler lake shaded by acacias and palms. Clusters of white bungalows would dot the property, following the traditional clean lines of Southwestern architecture that allowed the landscape and vistas to take center stage. The rock left over from clearing the land would be used to build winding paths interspersed with locally sourced tile. There would be hiking paths and yoga classes. Spa treatments in a beautiful building with views of the mesa. A restaurant that Alex and Jena both hoped would draw raves.
It would be beautiful. It would provide jobs and opportunities for the town to grow. And it might even make Alex some money.
If they could stay on schedule.
He wondered what Ted would think of it.
Then he decided not to torture himself. He walked up the hill back to his truck and headed back to his parents’ house, deciding to go into the diner to speak to Jena about renting tomorrow.
For more information, please visit ElizabethHunterWrites.com
ALSO BY ELIZABETH HUNTER
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THE SCRIBE
THE SINGER
THE SECRET (Winter 2014)
Five Mornings Page 5
