Crave the Moon

by Lori Handeland

  He had no desire to do the same with Gina. Not only because he was supposed to be Teo Jones, schoolteacher from Arizona, but also because he didn’t want her to go away. Not yet.

  Talking with Gina was easy, natural, honest. Which was amazing considering everything he’d told her so far had been a lie. But as he’d lied so he could discover things, he’d best make use of this time with her to discover them.

  “Nahua Springs,” he murmured. “Where’d that name come from?”

  The name was how he’d come across the Internet photo in the first place. He’d been plugging words that related to the Aztecs into Google Earth, working on the theory that if they’d marched into the American Southwest for any length of time there might be a place or two labeled with those words.

  Bing! Nahua Springs had come up on that search and subsequent surfing had brought him to the photograph.

  Spike stuck his head over the half door of his stall and blew air between his lips. Gina set her hand on his neck and stroked absently. “There’s a spring that runs through the ranch. The Ute always called it the river of the Nahua.”

  Matt’s neck prickled, but he managed, he hoped, not to show how her words excited him. Where there was smoke, or Aztec words, there was most likely fire—or a really informative local legend.

  “What’s a Nahua?” he asked.

  “Catchall for the ancient peoples south of the border.”

  “Like the Mayans and stuff?” Matt tried to sound clueless—he wanted to hear the story she knew, not influence her tale with what he did—and he must have succeeded, because her brow scrunched and she looked him up and down.

  “You don’t teach history, do you?”

  “I … uh…” Matt didn’t want to lie any more than he already had. Thankfully, Gina saved him the trouble.

  “Let me guess. Phys ed?”

  He shrugged, which she took as a yes.

  “Technically, Nahua refers to any group that speaks Nahuatl,” Gina continued, “or the language of the Aztecs.”

  Matt got that chill again. Sure, Gina was telling him things he already knew, but that she knew them, too, was kind of … hot.

  “There were Aztecs here?” he asked.

  “Doubtful. Like I said, Nahua is a catchall, and Nahuatl translates to clear or understandable. Isaac—Jase’s granddad—says any outsider who could be understood by the Ute was called Nahua.”

  Matt could barely keep still at that tidbit. How would the Ute know the meaning of the word Nahua unless they’d encountered one? Certainly the Ute language, sometimes called Paiute, belonged to the Uto-Aztecan group of languages and was similar to Nahuatl, but—

  “Isaac thinks the spring got its name because a Ute warrior came across an intruder there and they were able to communicate. Of course, considering the Ute, that intruder was probably skewered and left to bleed out in the water.” Gina’s lips quirked. “The Ute were never very good at sharing.”

  Matt stepped closer, running his hand over Spike’s neck on the other side. The horse practically purred.

  “Interesting,” Matt said, and his fingers brushed hers. The jolt made him stare at their still-touching fingertips, expecting a spark of static electricity to flare between them and freak out the horse.

  Instead, Matt and Gina’s eyes met. In hers he could see the reflection of what must be in his. Surprise, nerves, wonder.

  A strand of hair had sprung free of the braid and trailed down the side of her face, stirring just a bit in the breeze. He caught the scent of trees above the scent of the hay, and he couldn’t determine if the aroma rose from her skin, her clothes, or actual trees.

  Her lips, those eyes, that hair, and the sharp green scent of her seduced. They were alone in the barn. No one here but them and the horses, and they’d never tell.

  Matt began to lean forward; so did she. Somehow their fingers had tangled together up to the joints, and he was running his thumb along the back of her hand, enticed by the smoothness of her skin against his own world-roughened flesh.

  Would she taste like water in a snowstorm or perhaps fire beneath the sun? Things he didn’t necessarily need but would always, always want.

  Suddenly Spike threw up his head and the two of them jerked back as his mane flapped in their faces. How could Matt have forgotten that they were separated by a great, big, snarky horse?

  When Gina was around, Matt forgot a lot of things. For instance … what had she been saying?

  Oh yes. The springs. The story. The Nahua.

  He searched for a way to get back on track with his questioning yet not be obvious that he was questioning. “Are there … uh … any local legends? Tales of magic? Of gods? Creepy wails and howls and things that go bump in the night? Cursed land? Mysterious caverns?”

  Matt thought they were harmless questions. Ones that anyone, even a phys-ed teacher, might reasonably ask in relation to legends. Every area had a few, and many of them involved the supernatural. Of course Matt was a little rusty on harmless questions, having never asked one in his life.

  Something flickered in Gina’s eyes, making the attraction he was certain he’d seen there die. She stepped back. Even Spike sensed something was wrong, because he snorted, kicked the side of the stall, and stretched his neck toward her, lips nibbling.

  “I have to go,” she said, and then she practically ran from the barn.

  “Hmm,” Matt murmured, watching her go. “Methinks she has heard a wail or a howl or a bump-in-the-night kind of legend. What think you, Spike?”

  The horse licked Matt’s shirt, leaving a trail of half-eaten electric-orange carrot across the front.

  Matt decided to take that as a yes.

  CHAPTER 4

  Gina sat in the window seat of her room and stared at the place she could see even in the dark as though lit by a neon X.

  There was something in that underground cavern. Something that had taken her parents away. Something that had wanted to take her.

  In the depths of the night, when the wind cried her name, Gina knew with complete certainty that it still did.

  She’d never told anyone what she’d felt down there, what she’d heard ever since. Sure, she’d dropped hints to Jase, felt him out. But if he’d experienced anything out of the ordinary during the hours they were buried, he’d either blocked it from his mind or decided to keep it to himself for the same reasons she had.

  She wasn’t keen on the idea of winding up in a mental hospital or at least in therapy. To be quite honest, she couldn’t afford either one.

  And that was the best-case scenario. Worst case—Isaac would believe her. He’d bring shamans from the Rez to dance and chant at the edges of the place where the Tangwaci Cin-au’-ao slept. He’d have the earth over the cavern sprinkled with salt or lye or chickens’ feet or whatever happened to be the latest and greatest charm guaranteed to thwart evil. Word would get out. The curious would go there.

  Then more would die as the legend of the Tangwaci Cin-au’-ao promised.

  * * *

  Even if Matt hadn’t been in the kitchen the day before, he would easily have found it by smell alone the next morning. McCord’s mother knew her way around a stove.

  Matt stepped into the room, breathing in the homey scents of bacon, eggs, toast, and best of all—

  “Coffee?” Fanny asked without even turning away from the griddle where she flipped pancakes with a quick, practiced flick of her capable wrist.

  “Thanks.” Matt crossed to the counter and served himself from the full pot.

  Fanny graced him with what appeared to be a genuine smile. As opposed to her son, Fanny seemed to like Matt. “Sleep well, Mr. Teo?”

  He’d tried to get her to call him Teo, but since she addressed everyone with the same combination of respect and familiarity he didn’t try too hard.

  “Fine,” he said, which was a lie. How was he supposed to sleep with the scent of Gina in his hair? And how had her scent gotten in his hair anyway?

  It was all in his
head—so to speak—and he knew it.

  But what had really kept him awake was the memory of Gina practically tripping over her own feet as she left both him and his obviously too close for comfort questions behind.

  What had she seen? Where had she seen it? How was he going to get her to let him—a supposed phys-ed teacher from Arizona—see it, too?

  Fanny cleared her throat as she gave him a quick, suspicious glance. She reminded Matt of his mother.

  Oh, not in appearance. Sure, they both had dark hair, but Fanny’s was inky black like her son’s and reached to the base of her spine even when gathered into a clip at her nape, while Nora’s had replicated the shade of fine cherrywood, although most times she’d worn it so short the burgundy highlights had all but disappeared.

  But the way they moved, quick and sure—places to go, people to feed, or in Nora’s case to unearth—combined with their sharp eye for detail and a mother’s loving ear for bullshit.

  “I … uh…” Matt began, and Fanny waved her spatula in dismissal.

  “You don’t have to be polite. It’s always hard to sleep in a strange place. Just because you couldn’t doesn’t mean there was anything wrong with the bed, or the room, or…” She let her words trail off, arching a brow in his direction when he remained silent.

  “Oh, right!” How he could be so smart at book things and so dense at life things had always been a source of embarrassment to him and amusement to everyone he knew. “Bed was great. Room, too. Nothing wrong. Nope. Uh-uh.”

  “Sheesh, Jones.” McCord stepped up to the coffeemaker, his massive shoulders crowding into Matt’s space, making him want to move away, though he refused to. “No need to lick her shoes. She isn’t going to hit you if you didn’t like the bed.”

  “Of course not,” Fanny said, then smacked her son in the forehead with the kitchen utensil.

  “Hey.” He picked a fleck of pancake off his face. “What’d I do?”

  “Company manners,” she said. “You will find them. Now.”

  McCord’s dark eyes flashed, but he only tightened his lips, then muttered, “Yes, ma’am,” before wrapping two sausages in a pancake and heading outside.

  Fanny stared after him. “He isn’t usually…” Her voice trailed off, and the crease between her brows deepened.

  “Such a people person?”

  Her brow smoothed as she chuckled. “There is a reason Gina deals with the customers and Jase runs the ranch.”

  “Because they’re partners.” Matt put an emphasis on the last word, which caused a return of Fanny’s frown.

  “You could say that. Technically, he works for her, but they grew up together. They both love this place as much as…” Her voice drifted off again as she glanced through the window over the stove.

  “Each other?”

  Fanny smiled sadly and didn’t answer.

  Any further opportunity for questions ended as the As screeched into the room, followed closely by the incredible cursing Hurlaheys and the father-and-son team known as the Gordons.

  Chaos ensued as everyone attempted to speak at once while they helped themselves to coffee, juice, and plates of food. Matt’s ears rang. He refilled his coffee, grabbed a pancake and sausage sandwich of his own, and slipped through the back door before the As cornered him again. If he was lucky, a day of riding in the fresh, open air would tire them out so badly they wouldn’t be able to stalk him around the campfire.

  But he wasn’t going to hold his breath.

  Excitement flowed though him. Maybe today he’d discover the place his mother had searched for and he had found immortalized on film. Then he could tell Gina the truth and find out what she needed from him so that he would be allowed to dig. There had to be some way to make this work for them both.

  Although the thought of losing the camaraderie he’d found with her as Teo Jones, phys-ed teacher, and becoming again Dr. Mecate, complete with a cadre of graduate students, archaeologists, anthropologists, big lights, earthmovers, tents, and trucks, made his chest feel as if a ten-pound sack of flour had landed on his lungs.

  How strange. All he’d ever cared about was proving the Mecate theory and now …

  Matt contemplated the beautiful, peaceful landscape and winced.

  * * *

  Gina had worried it might take some convincing on her part to get Mel and Melda to relinquish Lily and Vi to the Gordons. However, the old couple was happy to help.

  “No problem, bro.” Mel lifted his hand, palm facing Gina. It took her several seconds to realize he wanted a high five. She obliged. “We don’t want the youngster to fall on his—”

  “Ass,” Melda finished. “We can ride whatever—”

  “Damn horses you want us to.”

  “Fantastic,” Gina muttered. She was starting to wonder if the two of them had met in a Tourette’s support group.

  She hadn’t been able to fall asleep for hours last night. Then once she had, she’d tossed and turned, her dreams full of the past. Now she was exhausted.

  Gina gestured for Isaac to bring the two mid-level horses into the paddock so the couple could take a test drive. Lucy and Desi were harder to manage than Lily and Vi—pretty much any horse was—but they were a far cry from Spike.

  Still, their riders needed to know the basics of horsemanship or risk a nasty fall when either Lucy or Desi decided she or he was too far from Desi or Lucy. Whenever that happened, one or the other would bolt, running full speed until he or she reached his or her true love. The best way to avoid this was to assign the horses to people who would be riding together anyway, preferably without any other guests who might get in the way and separate the love-horses.

  Mel and Melda fit the profile. The cursing would probably keep the others away, but even without that quirk, the As only talked to each other or hot men and the Gordons had all they could do to manage Lily and Vi without adding conversation to the mix.

  Isaac, his dark gaze on the Hurlaheys and the Arnazes, lifted a hand to let Gina know they were doing all right. The four of them—Isaac, Fanny, Jase, and Gina—worked together so well, each knowing what the others needed, often before they knew it themselves.

  What would happen to them if Nahua Springs went under? Isaac and Fanny had never worked anywhere but here. Neither had Jase nor Gina. Besides, they were family. The only one she’d had since—

  “You okay?”

  Gina started. “I bet your students love it when you sneak up on them like that.”

  Teo blinked. “Why would I sneak up on them?”

  “Aren’t they always trying to get away with something? Smoking under the bleachers. Drinking at the dance. Making out in the parking lot.”

  Teo’s gaze went to her mouth and stayed there. The morning sun suddenly blazed far too hot.

  “You … um … ever catch them?”

  “Catch?” he repeated, still staring at her lips. He licked his, and she thought she might self-combust.

  “The kids. At your school?”

  “No.” He pulled his eyes away, but he appeared to have as much trouble doing it as she was having forgetting about it. “But I don’t try.”

  “Why not?” She studied him. He didn’t look like a bad boy, but maybe he’d reformed. “Did you get caught misbehaving when you were in school?”

  “I was homeschooled.”

  “No way.”

  His lips curved, and she found herself licking her own, wondering how they’d taste after she’d pressed them to his.

  “My mom had interesting ideas about education.”

  “Since you wound up being a teacher, did you agree with them or disagree?”

  “I agree with almost all my mother’s ideas. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “Your mother told you to come to Nahua Springs Ranch?” She was going to have to meet his mother.

  The strangeness of that thought gave Gina pause. She wasn’t ever going to meet his mother. It wasn’t like she and Teo were dating. They were flirting, which was biza
rre enough. She never flirted with men, because men never flirted with her.

  She’d been told she was pretty, and maybe she was. But she’d come to the conclusion that there was something wrong with her, something broken deep inside that kept men from being interested for more than a minute. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a second date.

  “She did,” Teo said. “She … uh … thought I should get out more.”

  “You a gamer?”

  For an instant he stared at her blankly. Then he followed the jerk of her head toward Derek and understanding spread over his handsome face. “I’ve played. But I’d rather be doing.”

  His gaze flicked back to hers, and the unspoken word you hovered between them.

  “Gina!” Jase’s voice made them jump.

  She turned her head only to discover that everyone else was mounted and ready to leave.

  Everyone else was also staring at her and Teo. The Hurlaheys grinned indulgently; Melda gave her a wink and a double thumbs-up.

  The As glared. If looks could kill … et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

  Tim Gordon appeared impatient. He probably figured that if they didn’t get on the trail now, he’d lose any chance he had of getting his son on the trail at all.

  That son glanced back and forth between Teo and Gina, then made a gagging motion.

  Last she turned her gaze to Jase. Gina wasn’t sure what she saw in his eyes before he walked away. Anger? Disgust? Disappointment? Whatever it was, it made her chest hurt when, a minute later, he thundered down the long dirt lane toward the main road, the dust from his horse’s hooves nearly obscuring him.

  Jase often got angry and took off. Gina had learned long ago to let him. He’d come back; he’d be himself again. Following him only made things worse.

  She glanced at the six people on horses. As if following him was even an option.

  “I’ll be ready in a minute,” she told them, then hurried to the barn.

  Lady Belle was saddled and her pack in place, as was Teo’s. Weird. Nahua Springs insisted their guests saddle their own mounts and pack their own gear, not just because the ranch lacked the manpower to do it for them but also to make sure they could do it. Once they were on the trail, there’d be only guests, horses, and Gina. She couldn’t saddle every horse; she couldn’t pack every pack. Besides, why else were they here unless it was to learn how?