Ginger laughed, although the prospect of two thousand handmade organic hors d’oeuvres going to waste wasn’t that funny. She noticed that the sheet of paper was still on the table, Rafferty’s firm handwriting across the back of it. It looked like a verse.
She frowned and turned the paper so she could read it.
“I’m so glad we couldn’t get the hall for Valentine’s Day,” Tanya said, her excitement bubbling through the phone. “Having the wedding today would have been a complete nightmare. What if your power does go out?”
“Luke checked the backup generator a few weeks ago. It’ll start automatically. No need to worry.”
“Now I feel silly for worrying about self-reliant Ginger.” Tanya laughed. “I should know better. You always have a plan for every contingency. I’ve been trying to call you all day, with no luck. Your cell phone even says you’re unavailable.”
“It ran out of juice,” Ginger admitted. “I’m sorry you were worried. I forgot to charge it last night.”
Tanya giggled. “Hmm, I wonder why. What distracted you, Ginger?”
Ginger knew where Tanya was going with this, and felt herself blushing. Unfortunately, she couldn’t think of a clever way to change the subject. She looked away from Rafferty’s verse and tried to divert Tanya’s train of thought.
She wasn’t nearly fast enough.
“Could it have been Mr. Hunky Stranger?” Tanya teased.
“Well, okay, he did give me a ride home.”
“Uh-huh,” Tanya said. “And what happened after that? I want details.”
“Not on the phone,” Ginger said. She was stalling and she knew it, but with Tanya’s wedding the following Saturday, the week would be too busy for the two friends to exchange secrets. The happy couple were headed to a resort in Mexico for two weeks after the wedding, so Ginger would have the better part of a month to figure out what to tell her friend about Delaney.
And what not to tell her.
“I’m going to hold you to that,” Tanya teased. “In fact, I’ve decided that you should bring him to the wedding. Steve agrees.”
Ginger was shocked. “But you maxed out on the guest list already.”
“We’re making an exception. We talked about it this morning, when we thought you were both too, um, busy to answer the phone.”
Ginger’s blush deepened. “Oh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea. It’s kind of late notice.”
“Garbage! Everybody in the place last night knew that Ginger Sinclair had finally met her match. The two of you were lost in your own world and oblivious to everyone.”
Ginger had nothing articulate to say about that. She twirled the phone cord in her hand and thought about going to a wedding with Delaney. The prospect of him in a tux—or even a suit—was enough to make her mouth go dry.
Never mind the idea of dancing with him again.
On the other hand, taking a date to Tanya’s wedding would practically be a public declaration of another wedding to come. Ginger certainly wasn’t ready to commit to that—and she doubted Delaney would be, either.
He might be dead by the end of the week.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “He could be busy.”
“Uh-huh,” Tanya said, still not taking no for an answer. “Well, here’s the deal, Ginger. We left one spot on the guest list for the best woman to have a date, identity TBD. So, tell me now that you’ll bring Mr. Hunky Stranger or I’ll invite Luke.”
“That’s dirty!” Ginger protested. Luke had made his plans to merge the two adjoining farms clear, in quite unromantic terms, and was as fixed on the idea as he was on doing things as he always had. No matter what Ginger said or what she did, Luke never got the message that his plan was unwelcome.
If Tanya invited him to be Ginger’s date at the wedding, Ginger would never get rid of Luke.
And Tanya knew it.
Tanya laughed. “I just know what’s good for you.” “But you’ll give Luke the wrong idea.”
“He already has the wrong idea. It’ll just convince him he’s right.”
“He’s already convinced of that,” Ginger admitted.
“Those Hargreaveses are as stubborn as mules, but Luke is the most stubborn of all. That’s why he’s exactly wrong for you. Bring the new man on Saturday,” Tanya commanded. “We need to interrogate him and decide whether he’s good enough for our Ginger.”
“I’m not sure that will happen. . . .”
“No excuses. Turn on the charm, girl, and make it happen. You’re the queen of can-do, after all, and we have expectations now.” Someone said something in the background, someone Ginger was pretty sure was Steve, and Tanya laughed. “Steve has a plan to find out Mr. Hunk’s secrets. It involves a lot of beer.”
“You have a wedding to organize,” Ginger retorted, knowing her friend meant well. “Isn’t that enough to keep you too busy to mess with my life?”
Tanya laughed. “There’s always time to take care of your friends.” Ginger could have argued that perspective, but Tanya spoke first. “Gotta go,” she said, then dropped her voice to a conspiratorial low. “We have a crisis between the moms about the color of the table napkins.”
“That was decided months ago.”
“It was, but Steve’s mom just found out that we didn’t go with her choice. Hostilities have been exchanged and cruel comments made about both the sage green and the dusty rose. Nukes have been armed and treaty negotiations begin in five minutes.”
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not. Wish me luck!”
“Luck!” Ginger grinned, knowing that Tanya was in her element. She and Steve were good together and Tanya was so happy—she’d have solved any obstacle with cheerfulness and ease.
“Call if you need anything,” Tanya said. “You have forty-eight hours to give me Mr. Hunk’s name for the place cards.”
“You’re merciless.”
“And charge your cell phone!”
“Yes, Mom,” Ginger said. Then the line clicked and Tanya was gone. She smiled as she hung up the receiver, glad to have such a good friend.
Then Ginger pulled Rafferty’s notes closer and read what he had written.
She’d been right—it was a poem.
But not one she knew.
The Outcast patrols shadows deep,
Defending the Pyr while they sleep.
When darkness becomes his domain,
He risks losing his path back again.
Vigilant in the endless night
Yet drawn by the firestorm’s light.
But can one so at ease in dark
Surrender fully to love’s spark?
Will he dare to leave his task,
Choose himself first instead of last?
What was the poem about?
Ginger read it again and thought it sounded like a prophecy, one about Delaney. If so, it confirmed her sense that he had been injured, and his own conviction that the Elixir he’d been forced to ingest had pushed him from the world of the Pyr. He was choosing to defend his fellows by trying to destroy the Elixir.
But the verse carried an interesting message about the firestorm, one that meshed perfectly with Ginger’s own ideas about love. It seemed to imply that the firestorm—that Ginger—could heal Delaney.
If he chose to accept that healing.
How could she persuade him to believe in the possibility of their having a future, if the firestorm on its own didn’t do so?
It was a puzzle she couldn’t solve herself, not without knowing more about the Pyr. She was encouraged, though, by the suggestion that she was on the right track. That restored her characteristic optimism.
Ginger got up, feeling energized once more. She faced more important and more immediate issues on this night. She opened the freezer, and two thousand handmade hors d’oeuvres peered back at her.
What was she going to feed three hungry Pyr?
The firestorm didn’t play fair.
The golden heat tickled at the ed
ge of Delaney’s consciousness, even when Ginger wasn’t within close proximity. It teased him, arousing him to the point that he found it hard to concentrate on anything beyond the possibility of seducing Ginger again.
Worse, it tempted him with promises and possibilities, ideas that could not fit into his future as he knew it must be. The firestorm tormented him with the notion of accepting Ginger’s challenge.
And in so doing, the firestorm weakened Delaney’s resolve. He fought against its temptation, knowing that he had to do what he had to do. The possibilities presented by both Ginger and the firestorm were impossible for him to pursue.
He had no future. He knew that was the best possible outcome from the toxin of the Elixir, and he didn’t dare be seduced by empty promises.
By possibilities he’d end up destroying himself.
He would not be responsible for eliminating the sparkle in Ginger’s eyes.
He worked in stoic silence, repairing the roof along with Niall and Thorolf. It could never be as good as new, but they managed to bend the beams back so that the cattle were sheltered from the storm. When it was done, they sat on the rafters and looked down into the barn.
“It should be mucked out,” Delaney said, wanting to keep himself busy in the hope that he’d think less. “Let’s do it.”
“You just don’t want Luke making you look bad,” Niall teased.
Delaney ignored that.
“I don’t know how,” Thorolf said.
Niall rolled his eyes.
Delaney had more patience than his friend, at least this time. “It’s not hard. The cows just have to be moved into those far sections so that the floors can be cleaned where they are now.”
“Why don’t we just put them all together?” Thorolf asked.
Delaney gave him a look. “Cows and bulls together?”
Niall started to laugh.
“Hey, I’m a city guy,” Thorolf protested. “Milk comes from cartons and beef comes from little Styrofoam trays with plastic wrap over top.”
Niall laughed so hard that he choked.
“They’re separated on the basis of gender so they can be bred for specific traits,” Delaney said. “There are no accidental romances.”
“Kind of like the firestorm,” Niall said, all false innocence.
Delaney ignored him. “The ones in their own stalls are bulls. It looks like the cows are separated into those that are pregnant and those that aren’t.”
Niall peered down into the barn. “Do you think they have to be milked?”
“We can check with Ginger, but I don’t think so.” Delaney noted that the udders of the cows that weren’t pregnant didn’t appear to be full. He remembered the cycle of the year from the farm where he’d worked before. “The end of the winter can be the dry season, when those that are pregnant stop lactating because the calves are coming, and those that aren’t pregnant run out of milk.”
“Can be?” Thorolf asked.
“Some farmers ensure that some cows are always lactating to guarantee milk production all year round,” Delaney said. “But others breed all the cows at once, to have all the calving at once.”
“And that means a dry season before calving,” Niall said with a nod of understanding. “There are shovels by the door.”
“Don’t shift,” Delaney advised. “It might freak them out.”
Thorolf looked alarmed. “Freak them out? Like, start a stampede?”
“Cows like routine,” Delaney said. “I’ll guess that dragons in the barn aren’t part of their regular plan.”
Thorolf laughed and Niall grinned, then gave Delaney a nudge. “Good to see the old Delaney back again,” he said, then headed for the ladders.
Delaney blinked. He did feel lighter and more like his old self. Was that Ginger’s power over him?
Had anything else changed?
Chapter 13
Niall moved toward to the exterior wall of the barn. There were ladders mounted on the inside of those walls, presumably to allow maintenance of the roof from the inside. Delaney followed him, noting that several of the bulls were watching them.
A large black-and-white one by the back door had his gaze fixed on Thorolf. The bull stamped a foot when Thorolf moved and exhaled audibly.
“We’re, like, going to go in the paddocks with the cattle?” Thorolf asked with some nervousness. He looked at the bull.
The bull looked back.
“They’re just cows,” Niall said with disdain.
“Why do you always talk down to me?”Thorolf asked, his resentment undisguised. The trio had reached the floor of the barn and Niall was heading for the shovels. The cows watched with curiosity, their tails swishing.
“I’m not,” Niall argued, his tone not carrying conviction.
“Sure you are. You talk to me like I’m stupid, and I’m tired of it. Show some respect.”
“Respect?” Niall gave Thorolf a look and Delaney knew his old friend was going to speak his mind.
“Maybe we could review this later. . . .” Delaney tried to intervene but to no avail. He was warm again, probably from the exertion of fixing the roof, and could have done without the Pyr squabbling among themselves.
He was out of luck on that.
Niall pushed Delaney aside and pointed at Thorolf. “Respect?” His question was soft, a hint of the coming storm. “What exactly should I respect? That you’re centuries old, older even than me, and have no understanding of your powers? That you’ve learned just about nothing about your body or its abilities? That you haven’t honed your innate talents in any way or practiced what we’ve tried to teach you in the past year?” Niall’s eyes flashed. “That you just party and fight and screw, day after day after day?”
Thorolf smiled. “Hey, I’m not that bad.”
“I didn’t say you were bad. You asked why I didn’t respect you, and I told you. You have no ambition. You have no goals and you have no initiative and you’re lazy, too.”
Thorolf fidgeted. “Jeez, you sound just like Rox.”
“Rox?” Ginger asked from the doorway. Delaney saw her silhouetted against the falling snow, bundled up in a heavy coat and gloves. Her hair could have been aflame as it spilled over her shoulders.
She looked warmer again and she was smiling just a little.
His heart skipped a beat.
Had she taken his advice and had a shower?
It would have been smart not to try to envision that scene, but Delaney’s imagination was off and running before he could stop it. He could see Ginger in the steam, the water flowing over her curves. . . .
“Give me that broom, please,” she said.
“Shut the door,” Thorolf said. “You’re letting the cold in.” He moved to get the broom that was leaning against a stall as he spoke, presumably intent on proving that he wasn’t lazy.
There was a sudden squawk and a flash of bright feathers, then Thorolf yelped in shock. He scurried backward with his hands over his head, yelling and shouting.
A colorful rooster, meanwhile, attacked Thorolf’s shoulders. The rooster pecked and scratched, while Thorolf yowled.
It was enough to bring Delaney back to the moment.
Niall started to chuckle when Ginger grabbed the broom and gave the rooster a swat. The bird cackled in frustration when the broom connected, then sailed through the air, landing in the paddock with a thump. The hens scattered, clucking. The rooster stood up and shook himself in indignation, then began to strut and crow.
“Coq au vin,” Ginger said, threatening the rooster with the broom.
The rooster crowed in defiance. Niall laughed and laughed.
Ginger glared at the rooster, brandishing the broom.
It glared back, then tipped back its head and crowed louder than ever.
“Damn bird,” Ginger growled. “You’ll see the inside of my stewpot before the spring at this rate.”
The bird took exception to that idea. Ginger wagged the broom and the rooster launched another assa
ult. They were obviously accustomed to facing off like this, the rooster pecking and scratching while Ginger swung the broom. She missed and missed again. Thorolf sank to the floor of the barn with his hands clasped over his head, moaning.
“If Gran hadn’t been so crazy about you, you’d have been soup years ago!”
The rooster flapped, trying to land on Ginger, as Thorolf cowered. Niall laughed. Delaney felt his own lips twitch.
Ginger finally thwacked the bird once more with the broom, dispatching him into the pen again. She brushed her hair out of her eyes with satisfaction. “Ha!” she told the bird. She shook the broom at the pen. “Stay put this time, Reginald.”
He crowed and strutted, clearly convinced he was victorious.
“Usually we only go one round,” she said, giving the rooster one last look before putting down the broom. “Gran thought Reginald was a looker. He’s really just a pain in the neck.”
Thorolf peeked out from between his fingers. “Is it safe yet?”
“Afraid of a rooster,” Niall said, wiping away a tear. “That’s really something.”
“He didn’t attack you!”
“I think I could have taken him,” Niall said with a roll of his eyes.
“You never told me who Rox was,” Ginger reminded Thorolf.
“His sister,” Niall and Delaney said in unison, their doubt of that claim clear in their tone.
Thorolf flushed scarlet. “Okay, so maybe she’s not my sister, but she’s not my boss, either.”
“Honesty,” Niall said so sharply that Delaney winced. “There’s another trait I admire.”
“So what? I should be like you?” Thorolf challenged, glaring at Niall as he got to his feet. He was a good foot taller than Niall, but Niall was muscular, and neither was backing down. “Always at the gym? Always working out? Always working? Life is supposed to have some pleasure, you know!”
“But it isn’t supposed to be all pleasure,” Niall retorted. The pair glared at each other and Delaney met Ginger’s gaze. He saw understanding there, then a glint of mischief just before she handed Thorolf the broom.
Delaney grinned at her perceptiveness, unable to stop himself. The two were squabbling like a pair of roosters. Niall’s glare didn’t help. Delaney had to turn away, to look away from Ginger’s dancing eyes.
Winter Kiss Page 21
