Shut Up and Kiss Me (17 page)

“‘Bye,” he said, as if he felt the uncomfortable pause.

“‘Bye,” she replied.

She hung up and hugged her legs even tighter. The awkwardness faded, leaving her with only a sense of giddiness. That’s when the absurdity of it hit: she’d been stalked, had her camera taken from her, barely escaped death twice, had to have her hand stitched up, had to deal with being in the hospital twice, and yet she felt happier right now than she had in years. Amazing, what a little human contact could do for one’s spirits. That, and a prospective romance. She’d forgotten how much fun it was to flirt. Forgotten what it was like to feel sexy.

The front door opened, and barreling in with Lucas came Sky’s two dogs. Correction: Sky’s two wolves.

Shala drew her knees up closer. The dogs stopped and stared at her. “How did they get here?” she asked.

Lucas glanced from her to the dogs. “They’ve been here all day. Sky probably told them to watch out for you.”

Shala chuckled nervously. “Right. He said, ‘Go on over to Lucas’s place and protect Shala,’ and they just came barreling over.”

His eyebrow rose. “You don’t think they understand English?” He called out several commands—sit, lay, and roll over—and the pair complied to his every request. “They’re smart dogs.”

“You mean wolves?”

“Part wolves,” Lucas agreed. “This one here is Sundance.” He pointed to the lighter of the two. “And that one is Butch. And they are so smart that right now, they know you’re scared.”

“And for a good reason. They’re part wild animals.”

Lucas dropped down beside Sundance and patted his flank. “Yeah, but don’t all of us have a little wild animal inside?”

“I’m pretty tame. Isn’t it against the law to keep them as pets?” A shiver tiptoed up her spine as Butch’s golden eyes met hers.

“I’ve never heard of that law.”

“I’ll bet Sky has,” Shala muttered. “I’m surprised he didn’t think before taking in these mixed breeds.”

Lucas stood up. “Maybe he did it because he’s a mixed breed himself.”

Shala swallowed a lump of embarrassment. “I haven’t thought about it like that.”

“It’s okay.” Lucas smiled. “Don’t worry. I think for the most part, Sky has his wolf under control.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“I’m teasing you,” he laughed.

One of the dogs approached her. No doubt, Lucas saw the uneasiness in her eyes. “Hold your hand out and let him sniff you. He’ll be your best friend before you know it.”

“I was bitten by a big dog when I was young,” Shala said, feeling the need to explain.

“Today, when I stepped outside, I got shit on by a bird. But I’m still going back outside tomorrow.”

Shala laughed and carefully extended her hand. Both Sundance and Butch eased up to her. Their noses were wet, and their fur not as wiry as it appeared.

“See, they like you.”

Sundance pushed Butch out of the way to get petted. Shala laughed. “I guess they’re not as scary as I thought.”

“Things generally aren’t.”

Shala bit her lip, wondering if a relationship with Sky would be less scary if she let him closer. “So you and Sky…are close?”

Lucas, now in the kitchen, poured some dog food into two bowls and placed them on the floor. Both dogs ran to be fed. “I like Sky. Respect him. Don’t know if I’d call us close.”

Shala grinned. “Is that because of him or you?”

“Good question,” he said, but didn’t offer a good answer.

“How come I get the feeling that you don’t like a lot of people?”

“I like plenty,” Lucas said, chuckling. “It’s the respect part I have a hard time with.”

“But you respect Sky?” She realized that she’d already begun to respect him, too.

“Yeah, I do.” Lucas stared at her. “But I’m a guy.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

He looked away. “Not a damn thing.”

She wanted to ask him to explain. She wanted to ask more questions about Sky, but Lucas didn’t seem like the type to dish out information, and she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. He was being more than kind just to let her stay here.

She stood up. “I think I’ll go look through some more of my pictures until I fall asleep.”

“I left a new toothbrush and toothpaste in the bathroom
off of your room, and one of my shirts to sleep in.” He picked up a crossword-puzzle book and dropped into a leather recliner.

“I’m not running you out of your bedroom, am I?” she asked.

“No, I have three bedrooms. I’ve always slept in the back one.”

Three? So when Sky showed up, he didn’t have to share the room with her. That realization left her with mixed emotions. She started toward the bedroom but turned around. “Lucas?”

He looked up. “Yes?”

“Thanks for letting me stay here, and for being good company. I had fun tonight.”

He smiled. She got a strange feeling he was a loner like herself. And like Sky. She remembered seeing Sky at the hospital, surrounded by people, and then with Maria and Lucas. Funny how even while surrounded by people who cared about him, people he cared about, he still came across this way.

But perhaps being lonely was a state of mind. Perhaps it was time she changed her mind.

Sky eased himself into the room where Shala slept. The bedside lamp was left on, but she was out cold. Even his laptop in the bed with her had fallen asleep. He dropped the bag of his purchases on the room’s chair and then just stared at her.

She slept in the same outfit she’d worn all day, but he spotted her bra folded on top of the second bedside table.
He could smell soap, as if she’d showered. Too bad he hadn’t gotten here in time to give her the pajamas—or maybe the red bra and matching thong.

Then again, he’d purposely taken his sweet time arriving. When he’d gone home and found the light in the closet on, and the box with his childhood things pulled out as if someone had gone through them, he remembered she’d searched his house. It pissed him off to know she’d gone though that box. Not that the past was some big secret. Hell, half the town knew—but that pissed him off sometimes, too. And the town hadn’t gone snooping through his things.

He didn’t like snooping women. He didn’t like jabbering women. Shala Winters wore both those labels, and yet he liked her. Liked her too much.

That’s when he realized that, more than angry, he was feeling scared. All Redfoot’s babbled nonsense about soul mates for the last month must have messed with his head. Why else would he be staying away from a woman who’d spent five minutes on the phone taking about her underwear with him? A gorgeous woman who was sleeping alone and admitted to liking thongs.

With one knee on the bed, he carefully closed his laptop and set it on a bedside table. He removed his shoes, shirt, and jeans. Glancing down, he gave his new underwear a quick inspection, making sure all the buttons were secure. He sure as hell wouldn’t have picked this pattern for himself, but Wal-Mart had a limited supply of button-fly boxers. His gaze went to Shala, looking so damn sweet. She’d practically said he could sleep here. Okay, it had been slightly vague, but considering he didn’t plan on trying anything…He pulled back the covers and climbed in beside her.

Reaching over, he turned out the light. The darkness enhanced his sense of smell. He inhaled a breath of freshly showered woman. Damn, if he didn’t want to pull her to him.
I didn’t try anything last night,
he’d told her.
Which implied he wouldn’t tonight. Sky worked hard at keeping his word. But give him just a little more time and he’d stop making those implications.

Redfoot lay in his bed at home, staring at the ceiling. Veronica hadn’t returned any of his calls. Part of him wanted to stomp over to her house and force her to admit to herself and the world what he believed to be the truth: she cared about him as much as he’d grown to care about her. Any of his forefathers would simply have gone to her teepee and brought her back, fighting, screaming, and most likely loving it. In the old days it had been an honor to be carried off by a man who loved you. Today’s women didn’t play along.

But there had to be a way he could convince Veronica to openly admit she cared about him. If not that, then how could he steal the woman from her teepee without Sky coming after him with handcuffs?

His mind and heart went to Sky and Blue Eyes. Tonight, when the boy came by, he’d had that look in his eyes. Love had that boy by the neck, which fit nicely with his predictions. But the rest of his dream still weighed on Redfoot’s mind. Sky had to watch his woman carefully, for the dog still waited.

Sky had listened to this advice, as Sky always listened, but listening and believing were two different things. Redfoot knew that Sky did not believe in the ways of the spirits. But unlike Jose, there was a part of Sky and even Maria that remained open. They might not embrace it, but they did not turn their backs on their heritage, either.

As he closed his eyes, Redfoot’s mind went to Jose. His heart ached for the distance he felt growing between them. He thought about Maria and the sad weight that both she and his son carried on their shoulders. How could he help these two find their way to each other?

At least it appeared that Matt had run off. The boy was
wiser than Redfoot had imagined. The spirits never looked kindly on anyone trying to stop the union of two soul mates. While so many people tried, love could not be overlooked. How could he make these young people—Veronica, too—understand that romantic love was what life was about? Alone, a person’s soul grew old and sad, but with the love of another person it grew. It found laughter instead of sadness, answers instead of questions. One had soft touches instead of loneliness. Love meant hope. Without love, life held no promise.

Folding his arms over his chest, Redfoot willed the spirits to help him. A dream would show him the way.

Maria rolled off her bed, her heart and head twisted in so many painful directions. Standing in the middle of her room, she toyed with the hem of her nightshirt. She’d promised herself she would tell Jose about the baby. To find the closure she needed. That she
deserved.

Some promises were hard to keep. She’d sat in the living room tonight across from Jose and Redfoot, both men with black eyes and bruises, neither of them speaking, both wallowing in their self-made worlds of misery. Maria had stared at the television, not really watching. Her heart was breaking for Matt, the man she thought she loved. It broke for Sky, who had jumped out of his skin at the mere mention of Shala Winters’s name. Obviously, Redfoot was right: Sky was already half in love with the woman. Knowing his past, Maria knew her foster brother would fight it.

But mostly, Maria’s heart broke for Jose and Redfoot—a father and son who loved each other, but whose lives led them down different paths.

She kept hearing Jose tell her,
I hate Precious. I hate its smallness, I hate its heat. I hate being expected to be a carbon copy of my old man. That I need to put on some costume and complete some stupid rituals that I don’t believe in. I hate disappointing my father while watching you and Sky do everything
right.
In all these years, she had never once imagined that her presence and Sky’s had made Jose’s life harder, but it had made the differences between him and his father more obvious.

She also realized how much Jose was like his mother. Estella had loved Redfoot, her town, and her family, but she had hungered for more. Estella’s art had assuaged her hunger. Jose had no outlet. Estella had understood him, but with her gone, Jose had lost the one thing in Precious that made him feel accepted. More importantly, he’d lost the bridge to his father.

Not that any of this changed Maria’s circumstances. However, it did explain her infatuation with Jose. She had always loved Estella’s zest, her flair, and Jose exemplified those. Add his sexy male body to the mix, and how could she not want him? Yet Jose had been right today. She could have gone after him when he left for New York. She hadn’t. Not just because he’d been the one to leave, but because going would have meant leaving Precious, Redfoot, and home. It would have meant leaving the very first place she’d ever felt safe and loved. The truth hurt, but she hadn’t loved Jose enough.

Understanding was good, but she still had to tell the truth about the baby. Putting on a silk robe and tying the sash around her waist, she went to face the music.

She got to Jose’s bedroom door and stopped. Her heart pounded in her ears. Would he be angry? Didn’t he have the right to be angry? Her hands started shaking, and she hurried away down the hall. When she got to the kitchen, headlights flashed in the front window.

Matt? She went to peer outside, hoping and praying. Instead, she saw Ramon Cloud getting out of his car. He brought a suitcase and dropped it at the front door, then left. She recalled that Jose’s suitcase had been in the car Ramon had towed.

Ramon left, and she collected the suitcase. On the way back to her room, she set it outside Jose’s door. Tomorrow,
she’d talk to her foster brother. Tomorrow, she’d have more courage.

Jose pulled the pillow to his face. He wondered if Maria had slept on it, because he could smell her. As much as he loved her scent, he wished he were back in New York, in his own apartment, using his own pillow, living his own life. Missing her had been hard, but seeing her hurt worse. When she looked at him, he saw only anger and disappointment. Before he went to New York, she’d always looked at him with affection, desire, and warmth. Acceptance.

He punched the pillow with his fist. He wanted that back. He wanted
her
back. Was it even possible?
Not if you don’t even fucking try,
he told himself. But what if she said no?

When had he become such a wuss? A surge of courage shot through him, and he decided to act. Now.

Jumping out of bed, he shot across the room, flung open the door, burst through, and tripped and fell. Face forward. Floundering, he tried to catch himself, but only air stood between him and the wall. He hit headfirst, hard. The impact jarred his brain and instantly blinded him. Wait…not blinded him. Blinking, he saw and felt a chalky substance fluttering around his eyelashes. Only then did he realize his position. He stood on his knees, his head completely punched through the Sheetrock.

It took a moment to regain his bearings. Bracketing his head with his hands, he pulled himself out of the wall. Spitting chalky substance from his mouth, he looked right and left. He saw his father armed with a baseball bat and Maria holding a vase of flowers over her head as if ready to throw.

“What the hell happened?” Redfoot asked.

“Oh, my.” Maria lowered her weapon at the same time as her foster father. “I think your nose is bleeding again.” She turned on the hall light.

Jose looked down. “Who put this friggin’ suitcase in front of my door?”

“I did,” Maria said. “Ramon brought it. I thought you’d see it in the morning.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

Maria covered her mouth and giggled. “I’m sorry. It’s not funny, but you should have seen yourself with your head inside the wall. And now the hole in the Sheetrock is the same shape as your head.”

“That’s because my head went through it!” he snapped, not seeing the humor. His face was covered in powder. He even had some on his teeth.

Redfoot let go of a laugh. “Look.” His father pointed to the outline in the Sheetrock. “You can even see his nose.”

Maria laughed and waved a hand between them. “
Viejo,
you can’t laugh too hard.
Both
of you look like you’ve been beaten with an ugly stick.”

Jose wanted to get mad, but his gaze slid to the hole in the Sheetrock, and damn if he didn’t see the shape of his head and nose. A chuckle spilled out of him. Then, there in the hallway, all three stood and howled until they had tears in their eyes.

Maria was the first to retire, but only after she made Jose move his neck to make sure he wasn’t seriously hurt. Her concern and the gentle touch on his chin felt wonderful, and that reminded him why he’d left his room. But it was too late. He and Redfoot watched her leave.

His dad clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you, son.”

Jose reached up and covered his father’s aged hand with his own. “It’s good to see you, too.”

They stood there and looked at each other for several seconds. Jose couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this close to his old man. Then he grinned. “You know, Maria is right. We both look as if we’ve been beaten with an ugly stick.”

“We should have a picture made,” Redfoot suggested. “So we can laugh at this later.”

“We will,” Jose said, and gave his dad’s hand one more pat.

“Son,” Redfoot said as he turned.

Jose looked back. “Yes?”

“What you thought you saw today at the hospital—”

“Don’t worry, Dad. Mom’s been gone for a long time. You’re an adult. And I don’t think Ms. Cloud can get pregnant.”

“That’s just it, son. What you thought you saw wasn’t…what you saw.”

Jose had never known the old man to lie, and if he hadn’t been there, he might believe his father hadn’t been having sex with the woman. “As I said, Dad, I’m fine with it. Ramon, on the other hand, isn’t.” He rubbed his chin. “I’d stay away from him for a while. He throws a mean right.”

“You fought with Ramon?” Redfoot asked.

“He was upset and said he’d…Well, never mind.”

“He threatened me?” Redfoot asked. “You took a punch because of me?” He grinned. “I’m sorry, but I’m also proud.”

Jose’s chest expanded. He couldn’t remember his father ever saying that before. Maybe it wasn’t because of his career, but it still felt damn good. “I’m sure you’d have done the same for me.”

“You know I would,” Redfoot agreed.

Jose walked back to his room, and for the first time since he’d arrived home, it felt good being there.

Sky had been awake for an hour, but he hadn’t moved. It was morning. Shala lay still, her head pillowed on his chest, her uninjured hand resting low on his belly. It felt like heaven. It also felt like hell.

What he wouldn’t give to slide her hand down inside
his buttoned boxers. What he wouldn’t give to slip his hand underneath her tank top and touch the soft flesh and pebbled nipple that rested against his ribs.

All of a sudden, she flinched. He heard her catch her breath and felt her lashes flutter open against his chest. He crooked his neck to see. Her blue eyes were open, and she stared down at her hand and probably the bulge beneath his underwear.

“Don’t panic,” he whispered in her ear. “I bought the boxers with buttons.”