Beau: Cowboy Protector
Page 20
“Looks like a woman to me,” he said. “Focus, bro. We’ve got a job to do here.”
“I know it’s a woman. In fact, I know who it is.” Gage stared at him. “What I want to know is why she’s here.”
Shaman shrugged. “Cupertino hangs around on occasion, brings me a meal or two.”
His brother was agog. “Not you.”
He shrugged again. “Guess so.”
They watched the blonde get in her Land Rover and drive away. Shaman always hated to see her go. He never knew if she’d return. She usually came around dinnertime, and stayed through the night, letting him worship her between the sheets.
Sometimes she didn’t return for a day or two, and that always worried him. One day she’d get tired of him, a simple man with not much to offer, and he would never see her again. Whatever demons she was exorcising out of her soul were nothing she cared to talk about. In fact, the two of them didn’t do much talking.
“Listen,” his brother said. “Tempest is not someone you just toy with. That is a very kind woman. Cat and Chelsea consider her a friend.”
“Yeah.” Shaman liked her, too. His gaze went back to the giant bulldozer about to push into the enormous old barn. “She’s real nice.”
“No, no.” Gage shook his head. “You don’t understand. Tempest is a good woman.”
“I got that. You’re getting twisted up for nothing, bro. Listen, Cupertino brings me dinner. I guess she thinks I’m starving. And I say thanks, because the truth is, she’s a darn good cook. And I like to look at her.” He shook his head. “You can’t expect me to turn that down.”
Gage was clearly astonished. After a minute, he said, “You call her Cupertino?”
“That’s her name.”
“But do you know who she is?” he demanded.
“She’s a woman who grew up in Tempest.” Shaman didn’t see what the big deal was. It wasn’t like he was sending out engraved invitations begging her to come by. She showed up when she wanted, she left when she wanted.
“She’s in negotiation right now for a starring role in a major Broadway production that might be turned into a movie, for one thing,” his brother told him.
“Is she?” Shaman watched the bulldozer tear into the first wall, collapsing it. Dust and bits of wood flew everywhere.
“If you’d read the newspaper, you’d know that,” Gage said. “The New York Times publishes a Sunday edition that’s really quite informative, if you cared to learn about the world around you.”
He laughed. “The paperboy must have left me off the route.”
“Online Times is just fine. You can read it every day. Takes very little effort. You get twenty free articles the first month, and if you decide you like being informed about the world outside of your shell, you can subscribe. It’s great.”
“Yeah, well. There’s no internet here. If you haven’t noticed, we’re miles from civilization.” And Shaman didn’t really care. He liked the setup just the way it was. He didn’t want to know more about the woman than he did. Whatever it was that she wanted from him, it suited him well.
“There is internet,” Gage stated. “In fact, the internet is how Cat found Tempest in the first place.”
That caught Shaman’s attention. “Our niece wrote her?”
“Yes. Cat wanted Tempest to come home. She thought my wife’s writing creativity would get a boost if she met Tempest. Cat had other reasons for choosing her for pen pal status, but that’s the main idea. So don’t tell me the internet doesn’t work. It’s what brought her all the way from Italy.”
“Doesn’t matter. She’ll go to her gig when she’s ready. In the meantime, she doesn’t look like she’s suffering, does she?” Shaman asked, crossing his arms. “I mean, if you’re trying to infer that she can do better than me, I’ll be the first to admit I’m no prince, bro.”
Gage shook his head. There probably would have been more discussion of the wonders of the woman who seemed to want nothing more than nights in Shaman’s arms, but two walls collapsed on the barn, and workers started yelling and running around, ending the debate.
Thankfully. Because if he heard any more about what a goddess she was, he was going to have to tell her to take her picnic basket and hit the road. Shaman knew that, like the beast in the fairy tale, you should just appreciate the pretty things in life—while in the back of your mind you heard your mother saying, “Don’t touch anything in the store! You might break it.” You heard your father say, “A woman only wants a man with money and power.”
One day it’ll be over.
Right now, I just try to make her happy.
ISBN: 9781459245204
Copyright © 2012 by Brenda Smith-Beagley
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