“I’m your partner, and this farm needs to be brought back from the dead.”
“Can’t argue with that. It’s needed serious work for a long time. How the hell did you find so much help? Looks like somebody kicked over an anthill.”
“I discovered one thing that hasn’t changed in thirty years—money still talks. I figured there’s no point dragging all these projects out, so I offered hefty incentives to finish by the end of the month. Just in time, too. There isn’t a roof that doesn’t leak, and two of the equipment sheds are on the verge of collapse. There’s no watering system for the stock, and the fuse box in the stable catches fire when you turn on a light.”
Connor put his hands up as if surrendering. “I admit it, it was grim. I thought this place had a lot of potential, but if it was left in my hands, it would just revert back to the forest, like those ancient ruins you see in South America.”
“You didn’t do so bad. You got a contractor to come in and renovate the house at least. I hate to think what kind of shape
it
was in.”
“Well, it had an air-conditioned roof that matched the barn, for one thing. Once we got that fixed, the contractor pointed out other things that should be done too. Remove the weasel family from the kitchen, the bee colony from the attic, and so forth. One thing led to another. I figure it’s pretty much a new house now, but I like it. I imagine I’ll like what you’re doing when it’s done too.”
“I hope so. Look, if you and Zoey want anything done a certain way—”
Connor shook his head. “Nope. You go right ahead and do it, do anything, any way you see fit. Believe me, we’ll be perfectly happy as silent partners.” As he scanned the farmyard, his gaze rested on three big shaggy beasts with long sweeping horns that hadn’t been there the day before. “Christ, are those
Highlands
?” He knew full well they were, but it was so damn good to see them. He quickly blinked away the unexpected moisture from his eyes.
“Zoey told me about what happened to your livestock a couple years back, how they were all wiped out. I, uh . . . I figured it would be a good move to infuse some Highland Cattle genes into our Angus herd. You know, they have a good feed conversion ratio and they—”
Connor put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You don’t have to make excuses, bro. You did that for me, and I appreciate it, big time. I’ve really missed seeing those hairy critters around here.” He was about to walk away, then turned back. “Almost forgot. Our multitalented Culley sent these over for you. It’s your new ID.”
James surveyed the little plastic cards his brother dumped in his hand. “Which one is the ID?”
“All of them. It’s a collective term for the basics. Driver’s license is probably your main one. Birth certificate—that’s important. You’ll have to memorize the new year, but the date and place are the same. Figured it would be less confusing for you.”
“Seems to be a lot tougher to be a Changeling in the twenty-first century. Tougher to hide your age.”
“You got that right.” Connor rolled his eyes. It was a perennial problem for all of them. The lifespan of a Changeling was much longer than that of a human, and they aged very slowly. And that meant James couldn’t use a single document from his previous life. Because according to them, he was seventy-five years old. Or dead. Either way, he had to start fresh. As Connor had. “Zoey says she can put a few gray streaks in my hair eventually, and Birkie has a little magic that will make me look older. I figure I’ve got maybe twenty to thirty years left here before I need to move on. I’m thinking I’ll try Alaska next time. Mom and Dad want to go there too. Or Wyoming. Carlene says it’s incredible.”
“Mom and Dad still coming here to visit?”
“In the fall. They’re leading a historical tour of the Highlands until late September. Then they have the rest of the year off, said they’d like to spend it here with us. You know, their first impulse was to drop everything and rush over here to see you. But they thought maybe that might be overwhelming, that they should give you a little more time to get your human feet under you.” Connor watched his brother’s face. Decided not to mention that holding off had been his idea, but he wasn’t sure at that moment whom he had been protecting, his parents or his brother. “It cost them, James, let me tell you. They love you. We all do.”
James nodded, then abruptly walked away. Connor let him go.
I know it costs you too, bro, just to be here in human skin. Please don’t give up.
He walked out of the bank with two new accounts, two more plastic cards, and a sheaf of papers and brochures. James’s first impulse was to dump the paper into the nearest trash can, but Culley had cautioned him against doing exactly that. Thank God Culley was doing his bookkeeping, if it meant keeping track of this much crap.
James had to admit that Culley was doing a very good job of it, though. His youngest brother had showed him a lengthy list of assets and investments waiting to be transferred into James’s new accounts. Wealth accumulation was relatively easy with a long lifespan, but still, James had been shocked at the amounts.
He’d also been humbled. He’d never thought about all the things his family had had to deal with, all the details that had to be taken care of. They’d even had to bury Evelyn, sort her belongings, sort his belongings, sell off the ranch, all without any help from him. As if he had died. What had he put them through? Automatically he thought about his parents again, and his throat tightened up. He wanted to see them, badly, and dreaded the powerful emotions that were sure to come with it at the same time. Maybe he’d be more comfortable, better able to handle those emotions in a few months, when he’d had more practice at being human.
Maybe pigs will fly. That’s the whole damn problem with being human. You always end up feeling things you don’t want to feel.
Nevertheless he wanted to see his folks. He had no idea how he was going to apologize for his thirty-year absence, but he was damn well going to try.
The scary part was that he couldn’t promise his family anything, not a thing. He had no idea how long he could stand to be human. All that held him to a two-legged existence was the overriding need to protect Jillian from his own wolf.
As long as it takes. I’ll do it as long as it takes.
He’d hoped that just being human would be enough to keep the wolf away from Jillian. God knew it wasn’t enough to keep her out of his mind. He caught himself thinking about her countless times through the day, and at night he dreamed about her frequently, often reliving that kiss at the clinic. Sometimes dreaming beyond the kiss. . . .
When he awakened one night on the very verge of Changing, he realized he’d have to find some other way to appease his alter ego. There was no doubt in his mind that if he’d finished the Change, the damn wolf would have headed straight to the clinic. To Jillian.
Maybe I need to give it what it wants.
Some of what it wants, he amended. If he dropped by the clinic in the morning, saw Jillian, would the wolf be satisfied?
He didn’t know that once would be far from enough. And it didn’t take long for Connor to notice either. His brother was waiting for him at the edge of the field when he finished seeding one night.
“Noticed you were at the clinic again today.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So, seems like you’re there a lot. Any special reason?”
“No big deal. Just checking on Jillian, that’s all. Making sure she’s okay.”
“Every single day?”
“Look, I figure it keeps the damn wolf from looking in on her while I’m asleep. Just being proactive.” It was true that James didn’t trust his alter ego, but he wasn’t about to mention how much he had come to look forward to going to the clinic. It wasn’t something he admitted to himself. He never stayed long, a few minutes only. Enough to catch a glimpse of her. Sometimes to exchange a couple of words with her, hear her voice.
“Good Christ, James, it’s pretty obvious to everyone that you like her a lot. Why the hell don’t you ask her out? Come to think of it, if you’re so damn concerned about her safety, it would be a lot easier to keep an eye on her—and the wolf—if you were in a relationship. Maybe you should think about that.”
What?
“Maybe you should mind your business. I’m not interested.”
Connor’s expression was smug. “Not interested. Sure. You must have mentioned her a half dozen times over supper last night. And at the clinic this morning I thought you were going to flatten Martin Bell when he asked where the little blond girl with the great ass was.”
James flicked a murderous glance at the smirk on his older brother’s face. Surely he hadn’t mentioned Jillian that much. Connor was exaggerating, right? “Maybe I get tired of hearing jerks like Bell shoot off their mouths. So what?” And dammit, she did have a great little behind.
“So you’re asking me to believe you’re not the least little bit interested in Jillian Descharme? She’s just a responsibility, someone you feel obligated to look out for, but nothing more?”
“I’m not asking you anything. Just leave it alone, Connor.” It was all he could do to keep from shouting at his brother. Deep inside James was uncomfortably aware his anger was little more than a flimsy shield, and that pissed him off even more. He’d made a decision, goddammit! Decided it was best to stay away from Jillian, to resist the attraction he felt for her. Because in order to keep her safe, he could not have a future with Jillian Descharme.
He hadn’t expected it to be so damn hard.
Jillian paused long enough from eating her triple-fudge mocha almond ice cream to down more aspirin. It wasn’t her best choice, she supposed, but neither was letting her wrenched shoulder throb constantly. She’d delivered a 90-pound foal, and both her arms were now strained and bruised, while the shoulder hurt like hell. At least the mare came through the event just fine, and the foal was healthy and sound. Jillian might be sore, but she also had a sense of satisfaction that she wouldn’t trade.
Birkie offered her a brown plastic bottle. “Chocolate syrup?”
“Does it come with a straw?”
They both giggled. The two were sitting on Jillian’s couch with their feet propped comfortably on the sagging coffee table. The clinic usually closed at five, but thanks to a number of emergencies, they hadn’t had a chance to shut the doors until nearly seven. Connor had headed home to Zoey, while Birkie and Jillian ate dinner in the staff room. They’d elected to have dessert—or “a sanity refill” as Birkie called it—in front of Jillian’s tiny TV. There wasn’t much to watch, but they were both too tired to care. Birkie picked a rerun of a gardening show and left the volume on low just for background chatter.
“I see James dropped by again,” she said. “What did he have to talk about today?”
“Nothing really. We never seem to have much of a conversation. Besides I was, well—” Frankly, Jillian had been thinking about how much she’d like to jump James, but she wasn’t about to say
that
. “I was really tired, and I left.”
“Left?” Birkie snorted, leaned forward and pointed her spoon at the younger woman. “Honey, the moment you get too tired to spend time with a handsome man who’s smitten with you, you are definitely working too hard. Sounds like we got you some days off just in the nick of time.”
“I . . . you . . . he is
not
smitten with me. He doesn’t even know me. And I don’t even know him. And what kind of an archaic word is
smitten
anyway?”
“Ha. Smitten’s a perfect word for someone who shows up here every single day.”
“Oh, come on. Davis Jenkins is in here daily, and he’s definitely not fond of any of us.”
“Davis just likes to complain and drink up the free coffee in the waiting room while he does it. James Macleod, on the other hand, likes you quite a bit.”
“Since when?”
“Oh, I’d say since all the way back to when Ruby brought Cujo in. You didn’t see the way James was looking at you. I did, though. I stood in the doorway and watched him hold that dog. Ruby was talking a mile a minute about the price of lamb, but he wasn’t listening to a word. His eyes were on you the whole time.”
“He was probably just interested in what I was doing. More people than you might think like to watch stitching and surgery and all kinds of things like that. That’s why reality TV is so popular.”
“And that’s why he was staring at your
face
?”
“He was not.”
“Was too. Was today as well, when you were treating that pony that ran into a hornet’s nest.”
“Well, if he was, I didn’t notice.” She wasn’t about to admit that it gave her a pleasant little flutter to know that he might have been looking at her. “The pony sure calmed down a lot when James came along, though. The owner wasn’t any help at all.”
“Don’t forget how James hot-footed it out to the corral that time he saw Gerald Mountney Jr. giving you a bad time.”
“I didn’t need any help.”
“Course not. But that’s not the point. The point is that James was prepared to dive in and do whatever was necessary. He would have defended you if you’d wanted him to, you know.”
“Yeah, I get that. It’s a guy thing. So?”