Phoenix Alight

by Isadora Montrose

  Tasha rushed to reassure him. “I was not criticizing you, Cameron. You are a wonderful uncle. I know Special Forces is a tough assignment. And I know you must go incommunicado when you’re told to. And yet you have never told Becky to stop calling you.”

  “What are you talking about?” Capt. Reynolds was at his most dangerous.

  “Before we left Savannah, Blaine told Becky not to bother him. That he would call her when he wanted to talk to her.”

  For a moment there was only the sound of infuriated breathing on Cam’s end. “Cold. Has he followed through?”

  She snorted. “Not so you’d notice. He’s talked to her exactly twice since we moved out here. Both times when he was at Peggy’s. And on Grammy’s phone. I think Peggy dials my number and hands him the phone and dares him not to be nice to Becky. How the hell did I ever marry such a rat?”

  “He fooled you. If I’d met him before the rehearsal dinner –” Cameron bit off his comment.

  Tasha thought back to that weekend seven years earlier. Cameron had shown up, exhausted, fresh from assignment, barely in time for the wedding rehearsal. He hadn’t even shaken hands with Blaine until after the entire wedding party had gone through all the steps that would be real the next day.

  Looking back, she could see that it had been a huge mistake to link her life to someone without having her family check him out. She had still been floating on a moonshiny high. Deep in love with Blaine. Deep in lust. Even if Cameron had told her of his misgivings, she probably would not have listened.

  She had adored Blaine. She had adored his family. She had thought she had found the perfect man and the perfect family to replace her dear parents, who had only recently died.

  She had walked down the aisle in her mother’s veil and Peggy Sutcliffe’s wedding dress. And she had worn Peggy’s mother’s pearls for something borrowed. She had looked forward to a happily ever after just like Mama and Daddy’s.

  She might have been adopted, but she had grown up with their rock-solid relationship as her foundation. Maybe she wasn’t a bearshifter, and had no fated mate, but she had intended to have as solid a marriage as her parents.

  Cam interrupted her reverie. “I took one sniff of Blaine and I knew he was up to no damn good. I should never have let you marry him.”

  What had she been thinking, not letting Cameron use his bear senses to vet the man she planned to spend the rest of her life with? That was the whole problem. Her brains had been drugged by lust.

  “You may be my big brother, but you aren’t my father, Cam. I was a lovesick idiot. I wouldn’t have listened.”

  He grunted. “You’re well rid of him now. I’ll figure a way to get to San Angelo, if I have to hitchhike. And you have Becky call me tonight if she’s upset about her father letting her down. Promise?”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  “Not another tear, Tasha. Blaine Sutcliffe isn’t worth a single one. Love you.”

  “Love you.” They hung up together as someone knocked at the door of her condo.

  * * *

  “Tell you what,” Caroline D’Angelo said, “Since you aren’t going to Savannah after all, and you’re already packed, you and Becky should come spend next week in Grape Creek with us. We have the guest house standing empty. Harrison and Grant are coming for the Fourth and maybe Frankie too.

  “We’re going to have a good old-fashioned Independence Day celebration. With fireworks and a march down Main Street. And a real honest to goodness Texas barbecue. You and Becky can swim. The girls can ride Princess. We’d love to have you.”

  “Yes!” cried Becky and Quincy. The two little girls held hands and spun deliriously. Becky’s distress at her father’s letting her down might never have been. Their mutual exuberance threatened the table and mirror in the condo’s small entryway. Tasha and Caroline moved in tandem to calm them.

  “That wasn’t very fair of me,” Caroline apologized. She gave Quincy a quick hug and let her go. “But you can see how happy it will make Quincy. And Rebecca. And me too.”

  “I can see,” Tasha replied. “And I appreciate your offer. But my brother has promised to come here instead of going to Savannah. I think we should stay here at the condo.”

  Becky and Quincy drooped like flowers that had been deprived of water for a week. “Aw.” They plopped down on the tiles, clinging sorrowfully to one another.

  Their matching T-shirts and shorts merged into one hot pink mass topped by a blonde and a brunette head. Despite their physical differences, the girls wanted to be just like each other. Becky’s silky white-blonde hair was in two thin braids. Quincy had charmed her Meemaw into attempting to tame her mop of curly dark brown hair into stubby plaits that stuck out but had the same purple bows as Becky’s.

  “Cameron can stay with you in the guest house,” Caroline said promptly. “George and I would be happy to get reacquainted with your brother. He was such a little charmer when he was a boy.”

  Tasha refrained from rolling her eyes at anyone describing her six-foot-three brother as ‘a little charmer’, and smiled politely. “But you have your whole family coming already. You don’t want to have your time with your children interrupted by strangers,” she protested.

  “The more the merrier,” Caroline assured her. “We have lots of room and three of my kids can’t come. We’re actually shorthanded. And you know we don’t consider you Reynoldses to be strangers. I was friends with both your parents before you were born. And here you are with your fridge emptied and your stuff packed. Do say yes. George will be thrilled to give Rebecca more riding lessons.”

  Tasha gave up trying to be considerate. “Thank you, Becky and I accept with pleasure.”

  “Yay!” The girls both hugged Tasha at once.

  Caroline waved a hand at Quincy and Becky who had jumped up and begun to spin once more. “We’re going to have a wonderful time. The girls are already in seventh heaven.”

  “I’ll just have to tell Cameron.”

  * * *

  The girl’s dance of joy continued down the hall and into the elevator. Caroline was parked outside in the lot but Tasha’s car was in its spot in the underground garage.

  “Who’s riding with me?” Tasha asked in the elevator.

  “Me,” shouted both children.

  Caroline nodded. “We’ll put your bags in my car,” she told Tasha. “And I can listen to my audio book on the trip home. It’ll make a nice change.”

  They loaded the suitcases into the back of Caroline’s SUV while she folded up the windshield sunshade and stowed it neatly. “I’ll just let the car cool off until you come out,” she said. Despite the sunshade, the Texas sun had made the interior red hot.

  Tasha shepherded the girls back into the elevator and into the stuffy dimness of the parking garage. Even though she had left work at noon, her mini SUV was nearly as hot as Caroline’s. She opened the rear doors and turned on the air. “In you get, girls.”

  Becky and Quincy swarmed into their car seats. Tasha had invested in a second car seat so that she could transport Becky’s friends when she had to. Of course, here in San Angelo that meant Quincy D’Angelo. Quincy snapped her armrest into place as quickly as Becky did. Tasha did up the seatbelts, giving them an extra tug to be sure that they had latched.

  The longest day of the year was just past, so at five o’clock the sun was still high. As soon as the door of the garage opened, brilliant light nearly blinded them. Tasha slipped on her dark glasses. As a Georgia native, they were as much part of getting dressed as putting on her shoes. The sky was clear. Caroline waved and got behind her wheel.

  Traffic was a little thick getting out of the city, but once they got onto the highway, the road opened up. Caroline’s SUV was visible in the rearview mirror. She stayed five car-lengths behind Tasha all the way to their exit. As Tasha turned off at the Grape Creek exit, the sun slipped under her visor and momentarily blinded her. Fortunately, she had driven out to the D’Angelos’ property many times and kne
w this exit.

  The ramp was short and sharply curved. Between the sun in her eyes, and the steepness, Tasha pressed a little harder than usual on the brake before she steered into the bend. Nothing happened. If anything, she sped up.

  Her tires screeched louder than the girls. She pumped her brakes. Nothing. The vehicle tore around the corner while the girls shrieked. She was out of control. Her car went into a skid and spun crazily. Trees loomed before her eyes.

  There was no time to think. She steered into the skid and when her tires finally caught, spun the steering wheel hard in the other direction and pulled up on the emergency brake. The wooded bank she had been headed toward disappeared. Bushes filled the windshield. The car juddered to a halt in the ditch on the opposite side of the road. The air bag exploded and knocked Tasha back against the seat. Behind her the girls began to cry.

  Read the rest of Phoenix Aflame on Amazon or Kindle Unlimited.

  Bear Fate

  A Billionaire Oil Bearons Romance

  Bear Fursuits Book 8

  Two battered hearts. Two unmated bear shifters. Two military heroes. One wounded warrior. One billionaire. One BBW determined to wait for Mr. Right. Two infatuated males. Too bad, three’s a crowd.

  BBW Amber Dupré knows she wants a forever after love. She can choose between wealthy Billionaire Oil Bearon Calvin Bascom and veteran Lance Prescott. Should bear shifter Amber settle for a billionaire bear, or risk her heart on a mortal who is everything she needs in a mate but who may reject her for being a monster?

  Available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited.

  CHAPTER ONE

  February

  Lance~

  The air was hot, dusty, choking. There was pervasive smell of human waste that caught at the back of the throat. It was dark, but he knew that Ferris was on his right, and Ricardo was two paces back to his left. When the explosion came, it lit up the drab, pockmarked landscape. He flew into a million pieces. And rained down on the ground on top of the scattered body parts of his buddies.

  Lance Prescott came awake to the thin stream of pure, cold air from his bedroom window. He had left it open a quarter inch at the bottom. Clean, sweet-smelling Colorado winter air blew into his room and replaced the memory of Iraq. He was wet. His short hair was soaked with sweat. His sheets were damp. And he smelled of funk and fear.

  It had happened enough times that he had a ritual. He stood under a hot shower and soaped himself until he felt clean. The smell of shit from his nightmare dissipated. His body stopped shaking, and his heart rate settled back to a steady beat. He dressed himself in his work clothes. There was no point trying to go back to bed. He knew he wouldn’t sleep, and if he lay in bed thinking, his anxiety would return. Better to go up to the stables and clean tack than relive the past. You couldn’t alter the past. You couldn’t control the future. But anyone could handle the present.

  He stripped his sodden bedding off the mattress, and bundled it into the washing machine. A little hot water and soap would get rid of some of the stench of death that clung to the sheets. He located his bottle of Falkirk Twelve-Year-Old in the cupboard and poured a small shot. He put the bourbon back on the shelf and closed the cupboard door. That too was part of the ritual. He added a splash of water from the tap. Took that first warming sip. Funny how he sweated and yet was cold clear through.

  There was nothing on the television at three in the morning – nothing that he wanted to watch. But he forced himself to listen to a succession of elderly persons claiming that their arthritis symptoms had been entirely relieved by a device obtainable for the low, low price of $399 divided into three equal payments. Tax, shipping, and handling extra.

  By the time he had finished his bourbon, it was almost time for morning stables. There was nothing in his fridge that he wanted to eat. But he made coffee, and drank a cup while he looked out the kitchen window at the frozen creek. It was lonely out there, and very beautiful. When he had first come to Success, Colorado, he hadn’t thought that he would find the ragged, rolling plains of the Double B as beautiful as the gentle hills of Tennessee. But after seven years, he didn’t think that there was a lovelier spot in all the US of A.

  The winter sky was still pitch black, it wouldn’t start to get light for hours. Snow lay everywhere. It reflected the fading moonlight and he could see surprisingly far. He followed the grayish outline of a small bear wandering down by the creek. He wasn’t particularly worried, out here so close to the open range, wild animals were not particularly unusual.

  The Double B Ranch was troubled by the occasional loss of calves and elderly cows to cougars, wolves, bears, and even the odd coyote, but his boss Laura Bascom considered that an inevitable part of the cost of ranching. Still, it was unusual to see a black bear so close to the stables and the houses, although this one seemed to be merely exploring.

  He had a soft spot for American blacks anyway. Ever since he had made his buddy Enright* as a bear shifter, way back when they were both Privates First Class, he had been drawn to them. Of course, he had been living a long time with Enright’s tomfool idea of a joke. Not that there was much of his tattoo left. The Iraqi IED had made sure of that. But it was a memory of a happier, more innocent time.

  As he sipped his coffee, he kept an eye on the little bear. Carlos and Rosa Diegos’ house was not far from his. And the new stable hand, Amber Dupré, lived behind him in a small cabin on the Diegos’ property. He figured Amber was too savvy to leave her garbage outside her back door to attract critters. But he didn’t know that for a fact. Hadn’t told her so. It would do no harm to keep his eye on the bear.

  The bear slid down the steep snowy bank to the frozen surface of the stream. Landed on its back and spun out. Then it clambered up and did it all over again. It was having fun. It was probably no more than a half-grown bear cub. Just old enough to have been kicked out of its mother’s orbit so she could have another litter. And just inexperienced enough to play near human habitation.

  The bear continued its game, but eventually, it came to grief. It slid down the bank on its belly, landed on its paws, did a somersault and went right through the ice. Lance didn’t know if there was anything he should do. He didn’t want to think of the bear freezing, or drowning, but rescuing a frightened wild animal was a dangerous proposition. He decided to wait and see what would happen.

  What happened was that the bear broke out of the ice with its powerful front limbs, and scrambled up the bank. It shook itself vigorously. Water sprayed into arcs of droplets that froze and fell, pitting the snow all around the bear.

  He watched as the bear wandered a little further down the creek to where the ice was solid. He didn’t worry until it crossed to the side of the stream where the houses were. He moved from the kitchen, to the living room, and then to his own bedroom. The bear was moving through the trees at a good clip, galloping straight for Amber’s little cabin.

  He grabbed his shotgun and loaded it. Shoved his feet into boots. It was cold enough that he took the time to put on his parka and gloves. He would do Amber no good if his hands were too cold to fire his weapon. He jogged out of his back door, and moved as quickly as he could through the two feet of snow towards Amber’s cabin. The bear was at her back door rattling it.

  Lance banged on the front door. He called loudly. “Amber, Amber.”

  He envied Amber her sound sleep. But she was in danger if the bear came in while she was in bed. He tried the knob. It turned easily in his hand and he walked into the cabin.

  It was warm. And just inside the back door, struggling to put on clothes, was a completely naked Amber Dupré. He stood there with his mouth open, drinking in the manifold beauties of this lovely young woman. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t noticed that she was a Venus.

  Her sister Heather had recently married the boss’ cousin Patrick and Heather and Amber were identical twins. Patrick and Heather had settled in Washington State, where the Duprés were from. But Amber had moved out to Colorado to work on the Bascom Quarter
Horse Stud as a stable hand. Weird choice. But not his business.

  Amber’s blue eyes were round with shock at his unannounced entrance.

  “There was a bear.” Lance stammered.

  She clutched her clothes tightly to her body. But there was still a lot of pink and white skin to make his cock spring to life as if the foolish thing hadn’t been playing possum for seven years. Apparently it had been waiting for him to turn into a Peeping Tom.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. He strode briskly to the side window and listened with his back to her. He couldn’t see anything with the lights on, but he was sure he would hear a bear if it was knocking over garbage cans or trying to get in at either door. At least his back was now to Amber.

  “I’m decent,” she whispered. “If there was a bear, I think it must be gone.” She didn’t sound scared, which was quite something. In fact, she sounded amused.

  He turned around and stared at her. She had tucked her magnificent bosom inside a plaid work shirt and done up the snaps. But without a bra, her boobs were straining at the snaps. Her jeans were done up. And as usual, they encased the loveliest, roundest, ripest ass in Colorado. Miss Dupré was without doubt one of the most delectable women he’d ever met.

  “I beg your pardon for intruding,” he apologized. “I tried knocking but you didn’t answer.” He knew his face was red. At least the parts of it that could still blush.

  *Jack Enright of Bear Necessities

  CHAPTER TWO

  Amber~

  She couldn’t believe that she had managed to turn completely back into a person before Lance Prescott had come into the cabin. She was freezing. Even in bear, that dunk in ice water had pretty much given her hypothermia. Dressed only in her damp skin, jeans and shirt, she was shivering and cold to her bones.

  “I’m going to make coffee,” she said. “Do you want some?” She had better find out just what he’d seen. Laura Bascom, who was both her boss and a cousin of her brother-in-law Patrick, had warned her against taking bear in Colorado.