Page 7 of Wind Called

“That’s good,” she said. “I guess enjoy the rest of your time in the Verde Valley.”

“I will.”

She gave him a smile she knew was limp at best, but what else was she supposed to say? It was time for her to get back to work, and, as far as she could tell, this whole thing had been a wild-goose chase and nothing more.

After all, there was certainly nothing interesting going on in her life.

Even if she kind of wished there were.

3

He supposedhe should have prepared himself for the possibility that she would be pretty.

No,he thought as he pulled out of Sedona Vines’ gravel-paved parking lot and headed back toward Cottonwood.Not just pretty.

Beautiful, with that rich coppery hair and those clear gray eyes, the full mouth that mostly had been quirked with amusement but at the same time promised all sorts of lush delights.

He shouldn’t be thinking about her mouth, though…or anything else, really, except why his talent had tried to tell him something was going on with Bellamy McAllister.

Exactly what, he had no idea, because she’d said that her life was pretty darn boring, with nothing to indicate why his gift had zeroed in on her, for whatever reason.

And yet…what had been going on with that strange gust of wind that had blown through the patio at the wine bar, catching her long red hair and sending the other patrons’ cocktail napkins swirling all over the place?

Bellamy had looked almost guilty when it happened.

Was that her gift? Working with the wind?

Maybe, but even if that were the case, he could tell she hadn’t meant for the breeze to play such havoc on the patio.

He would have asked, except it was generally etiquette among members of the various witch clans not to inquire as to a person’s magical gifts, and instead to wait for them to volunteer that information when they thought the time was right.

Clearly, Bellamy hadn’t felt the need to tell him that much about herself.

Frowning, he found himself passing his hotel in Old Town Cottonwood and continuing along 89A as it went through tiny Clarkdale and then began climbing the hill to Jerome. Although his mother had let his grandmother know he was coming to the Verde Valley, he hadn’t reached out to Tricia yet, since he wasn’t sure when he’d be able to swing by.

But with his conversation with Bellamy pretty much a bust, he figured it might be a good idea to talk to his grandmother and see if she had any insights to offer about the troubling dream…vision…he’d had.

Far more traffic was coming down the hill than going up it, signaling that most of the tourists seemed to view Jerome as a day destination rather than a place where they planned to hang out and sample the nightlife.

Was there even any nightlife in Jerome? He had the vague idea that there were a couple of bars on Main Street, places that might have live music, but obviously, his parents wouldn’t have taken him and his little sister Lucy to those sorts of venues when they were here visiting the grandparents.

He had to hope Tricia wouldn’t mind too much if he dropped in so close to dinner.

But of course she welcomed him with a hug and said she hoped he would stay to eat, so that seemed to be the end of that. His grandfather didn’t seem to be anywhere around, though, and she only smiled and shook her head when he asked.

“Oh, he and a couple of his friends are up by Williams, doing some quail hunting,” she explained. “That’s why I made a big pot of soup — I figured I’d eat it over the next couple of days until he gets back.”

“I don’t want to eat up all your stash — ”Marc began, but she only smiled and shook her head.

“It’s fine,” she told him. “And I made some bread, too. A growing boy like you needs to eat.”

Now it was his turn to smile. “I think my growing days are kind of behind me now.”

Good thing, too, since he’d shot up six inches his sophomore year of high school and the experience had been excruciating, to say the least. But now he topped his father’s six foot two by almost half an inch, so all those worries that he was going to turn out to be a runt had been mercifully left by the wayside.

“Your mother told me you had one of your dreams,” Tricia said as they headed into the dining room. A warm, rich aroma drifted in from the kitchen, and his stomach rumbled.

Whatever that soup was, it smelled delicious.

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