Page 11 of Dream Weaver (Spellbound in Sedona #3)

COOPER

“Home sweet home,” Vic murmured as the truck rattled along.

It’s about time, my bear muttered.

From the moment we’d exited town days earlier, something had pulled me back.

Someone, my beast murmured.

Yes, someone. But I’d been doing my best to deny that all this time.

Playing it cool, I cracked my eyes open long enough to spot the Welcome to Sedona sign. Home was Wyoming. But, yeah. Sedona was fine for now.

Home is where the heart is, my grizzly murmured, echoing one of my mother’s favorite lines.

“Great job, everyone,” Rich announced. “You did good.”

We had, though the fire hadn’t been as tricky as the last one. But, hell. We would take what we could get. And a satisfied ride home always beat the alternative.

“On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate that fire?” Mark asked.

My bear snickered. Such a rookie question. But I probably hadn’t been much different when I’d started out.

Alice shrugged. “A four, tops.”

Personally, I had it at about a three. The challenge had stemmed more from the area of the fire than its ferocity.

Either way, no big deal — to the extent that a two-thousand-acre wildfire could be no big deal.

“Lucky break with that wind shift, huh?” Chuck observed.

“Yeah, and the way the fire dead-ended at that old stockyard,” Vic agreed.

I ran a finger over the handle of my ax, not saying a word but thinking of plenty. Normally, my arms would be lead after two days of nonstop digging and chopping, but not this time. And normally, it took multiple break lines to stop a fire. But it had only taken one on each of the fire’s fronts. There’d been lots of fronts — one for every twist in the landscape — but the fire hadn’t jumped a single line we’d carved into the earth. It had just screeched to a halt like a dog barking at the limit of an invisible fence. It had gone on raging and crackling for ages, but it never crossed those invisible thresholds.

I glanced down. Were those lucky breaks just lucky? Or was there more at play?

My shoulder brushed Vic’s as the truck swung around two successive left turns. Then we creaked to a stop at the firehouse, and everyone piled out, weary yet elated. The sun was setting, and I stopped in the driveway, taking it all in.

Then a car pulled in, and before I even recognized its occupants, my heart lifted.

“Cooper! You’re back!” Claire waved gleefully from the window of Abby’s Ford. The moment Abby parked, Claire leaped out and hugged me.

Well, she hugged my legs. I leaned over, patting her back, grinning. The only thing better than coming home from a successful firefight was having someone to welcome you back.

“Nice to see you too, kiddo.”

I smiled at Abby, who had exited the car and stepped closer.

“Sorry. She insisted,” Abby said, crossing her arms tightly.

Her eyes shone, though. Mine did too, judging by the warmth pooling there.

Nice to see you, my bear hummed happily.

Nice to see you too, I sensed her think, if not say. It showed in the shine of her eyes, the quiver of her lips.

“Heya, Abby.” Rich waved.

Abby gazed at me a second longer, then turned to him with a little jolt. “Oh. Hi, Rich. I heard you stopped the fire before it got to Sunset Ridge. Good job.”

Your average citizen remained blissfully unaware of wildfires, unless one raged on their doorstep. But Abby had obviously been following this one. Closely. That wasn’t hard if you knew where to find the information. But you had to care enough to do so.

Abby cares, my grizzly assured me.

The glow in her eyes confirmed it. Or was that just a side effect of the sunset?

Claire looked up from my legs. “You smell like Grandpa.”

Right. The firefighting grandfather she’d mentioned.

“Like smoke, huh?” I asked.

Claire nodded. “Like the woods. Like dirt too.”

Like magic? I wondered.

“I bet you smell a lot better,” I said, and we both chuckled.

If only communicating with Abby were as easy.

“You must be tired, so we won’t keep you,” Abby said. “We were just driving by and couldn’t help saying hi.”

Heavy Metal Sedona was on the main strip. The firehouse lay on a long dead end. So, I kind of doubted they’d been driving by.

“I’m glad you did.” Really, really glad.

And miracle of miracles, Abby treated me to a shy smile. Just a tiny one hidden in the corners of her mouth, but definitely there.

My stomach chose exactly that moment to rumble.

Claire patted my leg. “I’m hungry too. Can we go have pizza, Mom? Please? Oh! Can we invite Cooper?”

Abby stiffened, and I did too. Not before my heart gave a hopeful leap, though.

“I think Cooper probably needs to unwind, sweetie. He just got back from a fire.”

“But he has to eat!”

My stomach growled again, and I answered without thinking. “I’d love pizza. My treat, if you don’t mind waiting for me to take a quick shower.”

For the record, that was my bear side doing the talking. My human side was too exhausted to think straight.

“We don’t mind,” Claire assured me.

Abby shot Claire a look, though the flush of her cheeks said she agreed with the sentiment.

“Um…no. We don’t mind.”

My bear did a happy dance.

“But it’s our treat,” she added quickly.

Putting off that argument for later, I rocketed away to the fastest shower of my life, fueled by a second wind.

“Hot date, huh?” Mark chuckled.

I did my best to laugh him off. “Right. With my blacksmith boss and her kid. Not exactly date material.”

“It could be,” Mark said. “Women love when you like their kids.”

Ha. Mark practically was a kid himself. What did he know?

Still, my heart pounded, and as rushed as I was, I shaved extra carefully. Luckily, I had jeans and a clean white shirt in my locker — a nice button-up, not a free T I’d gotten from a charity event or a grateful local business. Not exactly coverboy material, but a step up from the work clothes Abby usually saw me in.

I checked my hair and beard, slapped on a little cologne — courtesy of Chuck, though he didn’t know it yet. His locker neighbored mine, and he was a rookie, so I didn’t feel too guilty.

Finally, I hurried outside, where Abby watched Claire hopscotch over invisible lines.

“Ready.” I closed the firehouse door behind me.

Abby looked over, then did a double take. Her throat rippled with a gulp, and her eyes traveled over my body.

“Oh! You look so nice, Mr. Cooper!” Claire exclaimed.

“Good enough for pizza night?” I asked.

“Real good,” Abby murmured. “I mean…uh…fine.”

I hid a grin.

“You smell nice too,” Claire added. “Smell him, Mommy.”

I laughed. Abby looked half mortified, half tempted. “Sweetie, we don’t smell people. Not like Roscoe does.”

“Well, you still smell good, Mr. Cooper,” Claire insisted.

I grinned. “Just Cooper.”

Alice crossed the lot just then, and she chipped in her two cents. “Huh. You clean up pretty good, Lundsven.”

I did when I cared. And tonight, I cared. A lot.

Don’t mess this up, my bear growled.

It made sense to take one car, and thank goodness for Claire’s pleadings for that to be my pickup, where she could ride in the front seat — the only seat — with us. I added another reason to love the kid to a very long list.

She sat between us, chatting a mile a minute during the drive. She did most of the talking once we’d taken a seat and ordered, too. But that was fine with me — and Abby, too, I suspected. She wasn’t exactly one for small talk.

I didn’t care much either way. It was just nice to spend time with her in a place where we weren’t sweating buckets or banging hammers.

Claire asked about the fire. About my home in Wyoming. About my sisters and brothers…

“Yeah, three brothers, two sisters,” I said.

Claire frowned. “But you said you had two brothers.”

Damn. Who knew the kid had such a good memory? And, shit. How to explain?

My expression must have given me away, because Abby’s face fell.

“Claire, sweetie—” she tried, but I shook my head. My mistake, my job to fix it.

“I guess I never know how to count,” I admitted. “I have two brothers now. I still have three here.” I pointed to my heart, doing my best to keep the quaver out of my voice. “But one died.”

“Oh. That’s sad,” Claire said.

Yes, it was. More than I could explain.

Abby looked down, gutted.

“What was his name?” Claire went on.

“Sweetie—” Abby cut in.

“Peter. The oldest,” I said as his last words echoed in my mind.

Head back. I got this. You help the others.

Good old Peter. Keeping an eye on his kid brother, just like he’d promised Mom.

“Did he die in a fire?” Claire asked.

“Claire!” Abby admonished. “I’m so sorry,” she said, then turned back to Claire. “Sweetie, people don’t like talking about sad things.”

“But you said talking is good. Like when Cindy died.”

Abby must have caught my stricken expression, because she touched my arm. “Cindy, the dog. Not a person.”

I exhaled. Whew.

“I loved Cindy,” Claire said defensively.

Abby nodded. “Me too, but it’s different with people.”

It was, but maybe she was right about the talking part. So, I tried, for the first time ever.

“There was a big fire, and Peter didn’t make it out. He made sure I did, though.”

Abby bit her lip and kept her hand on my arm, and somehow, the words kept coming.

“He was really funny and really big…”

“Bigger than you?” Claire asked, all wide-eyed.

I laughed. “Way bigger.”

Now that I thought about it, though, his old flannel shirts fit me just fine. So maybe that was just the way I remembered him.

Talking about him didn’t turn out to be as hard as I’d imagined. And it was a lot better than pretending. So I kept at it.

“My other brothers would play tricks on me sometimes, but Peter would always come to my rescue. Like the time Chris lifted me up to his chin-up bar and left me hanging there. It was so high, I was scared to let go.” I chuckled. “But Peter got me down. He talked me out of building a bathtub boat too, after Chris put that idea in my mind.”

“A bathtub?” Abby chortled.

I grinned. “Yep. I really thought it would work, too. But Peter talked my mom into getting us a little inflatable boat for the pond.”

“Oh! Can Roscoe and I have a boat, Mom?” Claire asked.

I stifled a laugh.

“Where are you going to use it, sweetie?” she asked.

“In the creek. Oh! We could take it to Lake Powell. My friend Casey went there in a houseboat, you know.”

I did, because Claire had told me all about it one afternoon in the shop. Casey took lots of great trips with her parents — plural — but she didn’t have as many horses as Claire.

Abby sighed. “Remind me when we get closer to your birthday.”

Claire’s was July fifth, I knew, because she’d told me. When was Abby’s?

I pictured a cake, silly hats, and excited dogs for Abby’s birthday. A small pile of presents, one from each of the sisters and “grandfathers” Claire had mentioned. One from me, too. But what would I give her?

A playground, I finally decided, because Abby was a mother, and watching her kid have fun would give her great joy, as my mother liked to say. My sister, her husband, and one of my cousins had started an off-season business designing and building playgrounds. I could get the plans from them…maybe even add a few of my own touches…

A good thing our drinks came and cut off those fruitless fantasies. Claire started slurping her soda immediately, while Abby raised her glass — ginger ale — to mine.

“To Peter,” she whispered.

We clinked, and I echoed her quietly.

Abby gazed off into the distance, and it didn’t take much imagination to know she was thinking of Kevin and other fallen firefighters.

“Hey,” I whispered a moment later.

With a blink, she looked up.

I tapped my glass against hers. “To pizza night. In Sedona.”

Her lips curled in a thin smile, and she tapped back. “To that too.”

Our eyes locked for a long time afterward, and waves of understanding washed between us. Waves of all kinds of things that people who didn’t fight fires had no clue about. Like sorrow, guilt, and regret — and how we’d learned to live with them. Other things too, like the terror — and thrill — of coming within spitting distance of a raging wildfire.

“I miss it sometimes,” Abby whispered after a few seconds of silence.

I knew I would. As much as I loved the peace of the off-season, I always got itchy after a while. That was one reason I’d never managed to find someone willing to put up with my long absences — and my restlessness in the off-season. I’d never met a woman I was interested in who got it.

Until Abby.

But, yikes. She was a witch, or part witch, anyway.

Our pizza came, cutting off those thoughts — all thoughts, actually, because I was that famished — and we dug in.

“Watch your fingers, Claire,” someone chuckled. “In case these two beasts bite you by accident.”

I gulped down my mouthful of pizza and stood, belatedly catching a whiff of wolf shifter.

“Ingo!” I stood for a quick man-hug, then introduced myself to the blonde beside him. “Cooper.”

“I’m Pippa, Abby’s sister. And wow. I thought she was the one who ate like a horse.”

Yeah, I’d noticed that. Like a horse left to fend for itself in an arid pasture, in fact.

“Half sister,” Abby grumbled, though the looks they exchanged were packed with sisterly affection.

“Same mother, different fathers,” Pippa explained cheerily as she plonked down next to Claire.

“Very different,” Abby muttered.

“Heya, Claire. I missed you!” Pippa exclaimed, hugging her sideways.

“I missed you too.” Claire held up her pizza slice. “Do you want a bite?”

“Yum.” Pippa bit delicately. “Thank you, sweetie.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Ingo said.

I opened my mouth, but Pippa beat me to it. “We’re not interrupting, are we?”

Abby’s eyes found mine, and I sensed her sighing inside, like I was. Yes, they were interrupting. But it wasn’t like this was a date. Was it?

I motioned Ingo to the chair beside me. “Have a seat.”

He thumped me on the shoulder. “It’s been too long, man.”

Yeah, it had been. We spent a few minutes catching up, explaining, marveling. Well, I did anyway. Ingo was a lot more settled than the last time I’d seen him — settled as in calmer and as in happily settled down with Pippa. As it turned out, they lived on the ranch Pippa owned with Abby and another half sister.

I’d never had reason to be jealous of Ingo, but suddenly, I was. And not for the ranch or Pippa, nice as she seemed.

Pippa was a glass artist. The third sister, Erin, was a hot air balloon pilot. Abby was a blacksmith…

“We all love working with fire,” Pippa chuckled, seeing me try to piece it together.

I smiled politely, but my mind was elsewhere. Were all three witches?

A week ago, the thought might have curbed my appetite. But having gotten to know Abby… Well, I was starting to think I ought to be suspicious of stereotypes instead.

We ordered a second pizza, and time flew. But when the topic turned to Ingo’s work…

As an agent for the ADMSA — the Agency for the Detection and Monitoring of Supernatural Activity — most of his work was classified. But the vortex disturbance was the talk of the town, so we covered that too.

“Abby said you two went up to Airport Mesa,” Ingo said, lowering his voice.

Pippa rolled her eyes. “Here he goes again. You’re off duty, remember?”

He kissed her cheek. “I am, but seeing as it’s hard to catch Cooper between fires…”

“Okay. You have a point there.” Pippa sighed. “And you’ll want to talk to Abby about it too, I suppose.”

“Talk about what?” Claire asked.

Everyone went very, very quiet.

“About really boring stuff,” Pippa finally said. “How about you and I go home and make some brownies while these guys talk about work? Your mom can catch up with us later.”

“Yay! Brownies!” Claire jumped up.

Abby glanced at me, then Ingo, pursing her lips. Then she nodded and stood to see Claire and Pippa off.

“See you tomorrow, Cooper!” Claire waved.

I grinned, waving back. “See you tomorrow.”

Pippa leaned in, and Ingo met her in a long, lingering kiss.

Abby rolled her eyes. Claire chuckled. I did my best to keep my bear from imagining that kind of kiss with Abby.

Which made no sense, but…

It’s like Mom says, my bear rumbled cheerily. Love doesn’t have to make sense.

Love huh?

Destiny, my bear hummed.

The more time I spent with Abby, the more I felt sure about that. But where was destiny leading us?

I watched them file out. Abby would be back in a minute, but my heart still followed her. I gulped as the door swung closed, then remembered Ingo.

I turned back quickly, catching him eyeing me.

I grabbed my drink, half hid behind it, and waved toward the door. “Claire’s a sweet kid.”

“The best,” he murmured, still studying me. Then he chuckled. “At first, I couldn’t believe she’s related to Abby.”

Same with me, but my heart still panged with sorrow.

“Yeah. Abby is kind of…” I faded out there. Surly? Impatient? Unable to cooperate?

But the adjectives I might have used a week ago seemed harsh and judgmental now.

“A tough nut to crack,” I finally said.

Ingo laughed. “Yeah, if nuts were made of steel. But she’s okay once she lets you in. Unlike Pippa, she had it pretty rough as a kid, so…” He waved vaguely.

My ears jumped to attention. “They didn’t grow up together?”

He shook his head. “Their mother took off when they were little, leaving each dad alone to take care of his daughter. Pippa’s dad is Greg Martin — remember him, the chief of the Dakota Creek crew?”

I nodded. Was that the grandfather Claire referred to?

“Erin’s dad is great too. But Abby’s…” Ingo’s sour expression spoke volumes. “I guess she wasn’t as lucky.”

I glanced toward the door, slowly putting it together. All the rescued animals Claire had mentioned. The haunted look Abby got sometimes. The way she wolfed down food…

I made a mental note to tell my parents how much I appreciated them.

“She’s a great mom, though,” Ingo finished on a brighter note. “I have the feeling she would have been like Claire if things had been different.”

“She is great,” I agreed. And not just as a mom.

But, damn. Her own mother had abandoned her?

I leaned in to whisper. “Is their mother a witch?”

Ingo laughed dryly. “She’s a real piece of work, but no, not a witch. A dragon shifter.”

My eyes went wide. “What about Abby’s father? A warlock?”

Ingo shrugged. “No idea.” Then his eyes narrowed. “You got a problem with witches?”

I opened my mouth to protest, then caught myself. Did I?

“Just wondering,” I said a little lamely.

Ingo’s eyes bored into mine. “Pippa is a pyromancer, like Greg. A fire dancer, actually.”

My jaw swung open. I’d heard of fire dancers but never seen one in action. I’d never wanted to either. But if Ingo trusted Pippa — hell, if he loved her and shared a ranch with all three sisters…

“They’re awesome,” Ingo assured me. “The other sister, Erin, is a wind whisperer, and her father is a weathermonger.”

I stared.

“Throw out any preconceptions you have about witches and warlocks, Coop,” he cautioned. “The same way we’d like folks to throw out their views on shifters.”

A fair point. “Sorry. I’m getting that…slowly. It’s just hard not to be on guard, I guess.”

Ingo snorted. “It’s not like she’ll turn you into a frog.”

I gave a dry laugh. “Let’s just hope she only channels her magic into metal.”

Ingo chuckled, then went serious. “Well, I’m glad you’re in the shop with her. In case Jay decides to pull something.”

My inner bear flexed its claws at the mention of Abby’s ex. “You think he will?”

Ingo shrugged. “Hard to tell. Never met the guy. Pippa and Erin agree he’s a shithead, but…well, these sisters…” He grinned fondly. “When they get riled up about something, they get riled up. You don’t want to be on their bad side.”

That much, I’d already figured out. And, yikes. Abby times three…

The door of the pizza parlor swung open, and Abby stepped back in.

I leaned back so as not to give the impression that we’d been in a secretive huddle, though we absolutely had.

Abby slid into the booth, and I rotated the pizza pan so she could reach the last slice.

“Thanks.” She chomped down with the same desperate, elbows-out hunger she’d attacked her first piece with.

“So, the disturbance at Airport Mesa…” Ingo prompted her.

Abby was still chewing away, so she nodded for me to do the talking.

“We went up there a few days ago,” I said. “The earth had been dug up around the vortex—”

Abby mumbled, signaling with her elbow.

“Right,” I corrected, reading her sign language. “The real vortex, not the one where all the tourists go.”

“And?” Ingo stirred the air impatiently.

I traced a semicircle on my placemat. “Someone cut a curved line like this, and the marks were exactly what a Pulaski would make.”

Ingo frowned, and Abby motioned to me.

“ Exactly like a Pulaski,” I emphasized.

Ingo’s brow furrowed as he looked at me, then Abby with an expression that asked, You can actually understand that mumbling?

Of course. Couldn’t he?

He studied the two of us a moment longer, then continued his interrogation. “Really exactly?”

Abby made a chopping motion while I filled in the words. “ Exactly exactly. I’d put money on those marks having been made by a Pulaski.”

“But how…” He trailed off into a lightbulb moment, then leaned in. “You think it was the ax stolen from the fire station?”

We both nodded.

“The lucky ax?” Ingo made air quotes around lucky .

We nodded again.

“The lucky ax you made?” He stared at Abby.

She gulped, then nodded slowly.

“The lucky ax someone stole,” I added, just to be clear.

Ingo stared at Abby. So hard, I could see her squirm.

“Sorry, Abby, but I have to ask. What magic did you weave into that ax?” He sounded a little fearful of the truth.

Like me.

“Nothing!” Abby blurted, then hung her head. “Nothing intentional. I swear!”

I’d never seen a person more torn, though I was torn myself.

As a kid, I’d been taught to avoid magic at all costs. But I’d also been taught to stand up for what was right. To fight for the truth, even when it hurt. To help, to protect, and to think for myself.

And just like that, my mental scales tipped.

I found myself growling at Ingo. Hear her out.

His eyebrows jumped up, but he nodded slowly.

We both waited, giving Abby time and space.

The whole time, my bear growled to me, reminding me, Whatever she says, you hear her out too.