Chapter 3

Tristan despised how he’d left things with Cassidy. She’d noticed his hands for crying out loud. How he was constantly stretching his fingers in anticipation of sparking a flame, controlling it, extinguishing it. He didn’t do it consciously. Hadn’t even realized he was still doing it, or that her mentioning it would sting so badly.

But she had. And then she’d looked deep inside him with her melty brown eyes, and something had shifted internally, something huge and impossible to ignore.

She was the woman Serenity’s prediction had in mind. He’d internalized it in a flash.

It was Cassidy. But it couldn’t be for so many reasons.

He’d panicked, falling back on the tried and true: snuffing out the flame as fast as possible. In this case, he’d flipped out a ridiculous and unsexy line strictly designed to remind Cassidy how much she hated him. It had worked. But it had cost him.

Now he had to figure out how to overcome the damage he’d done, or he’d have no hope of finagling a role for himself that would throw Hardy off his fire chief kick. The schoolhouse was the only infrastructure type establishment finished at this point, so Tristan had no choice but to charm Cassidy into giving him a shot at being a teacher. Or administrator, gym teacher, the guy who did the music. Whatever. He wasn’t picky as long as he could point to the schoolhouse next time Hardy or his minion Isaiah West came knocking.

Problem of course being that Cassidy was currently uncharmable. At least not by him. He lapsed into a serious bout of brooding over how to reverse that while simultaneously leaving the prediction at the door, an exercise that lasted well into the next day. He took as hot of a shower as Serenity’s old pipes would allow, hoping to soothe away his cruddy mood. The water turned ice cold after seven minutes, which was two minutes shorter than usual, so either he’d overtaxed the hot water heater or one of his mates had stolen those two minutes’ worth with a hot shower of his own. Hardy or West likely. They’d each fallen in love with great women and thus had little need for a cold shower.

He was thrilled for them. They deserved to be happy. Unless they were taking his hot water and then they needed to help a brother out.

But there was nothing to do about it now. Resigned to his shower being cut short, Tristan hopped out and then moved through his routine automatically, twisting his shoulder length hair up into a sleek topknot and securing it with a black hairband, then ironing a shirt with the ancient iron and board Serenity had scared up for him. Sure, he’d prefer to drop off his shirts at the dry cleaners, but there wasn’t one for miles. Same as when he’d been deployed. A man who wanted to look good after a particularly nasty skirmish designed to flush out the vermin in an underground bunker did his own laundry.

The ironing board sat parallel to the sole window in Tristan’s tiny hotel room, so he had a great view from the second floor. All things ironing-related slipping from his mind in a flash as Cassidy strolled into view, heading down the dusty sidewalk toward Voodoo Grocery across the street from the hotel.

She didn’t walk like other women and he’d spent his fair share of time paying enough attention to know. Most women had a gait with purpose, whether it was to get somewhere or ensure everyone noticed her. Cassidy did neither. She examined the sky or the ground and occasionally even stopped to pick something up, then set it back down again. Constantly in motion but never seeming to be in a hurry to get where she was going. Like a pretty little hummingbird.

He watched her unashamedly, his gut seething with anticipation and unease and a dozen other things he could scarcely name. She affected him like no other woman.

Eventually she disappeared into Voodoo Grocery, breaking whatever spell he’d fallen under. This was his chance. She was effectively cornered and they wouldn’t be alone, so he’d have no trouble staying on task. He hoped. Regardless of how badly he wanted to unravel the reasons she didn’t respond to him on any level other than pure dislike, he had to swallow his pride and appeal to her as a woman in need of his assistance instead of a woman in need of a good throttling.

He could not possibly look Isaiah West in the eye and tell him no again. They’d been tight for a long time and West’s job had always been to lead the way, sometimes by example and sometimes by figuring out what you needed to hear in order to take one more step, even though you’d sworn you couldn’t lift your foot again. No doubt the man had a dozen or more strategies lined up and ready to execute with the sole intent of shuffling Tristan right into a job he didn’t want.

Shrugging on his shirt, which hadn’t gotten quite the pressing he’d have liked, he took the stairs down to the first floor in hopes of catching Ms. Calloway before she exited the grocery store.

She was still there, standing in the entrance chatting with half the population of Superstition Springs no less. Ruby, Serenity, Aria and Mavis J, who had ventured out from behind the cash register, ringed Cassidy, all listening to her talk.

Which she promptly stopped doing when she caught sight of him, her lips closing together to form a bow that shouldn’t look as inviting as it did.

But then he spent a lot of time pretending there was nothing about Cassidy that interested him when in fact, she had an intriguing face, gorgeous hair that his fingers itched to touch and eyes that reminded him of chocolate.

“Ladies.” He smiled at each one in turn, including Cassidy, though her gaze narrowed hard enough to snap a tree in two. “Don’t let me interrupt. I’m just here for…a Coke.”

“This is Texas. We drink Dr. Pepper,” Cassidy informed him blithely, earning a few chuckles from the onlookers.

“So I’ve been told,” he allowed, refusing to let her get to him, and meandered over to the upright refrigerated case Mavis J had started keeping stocked with Coke within a day of finding out he hated Dr. Pepper. She’d insisted on it, and he showed his gratitude by dropping in to purchase one at least once a day. So the excuse wasn’t entirely made up. “Coke is all they had overseas, so I got used to it.”

“Yes, we’re all aware of your sacrifices for God and country,” Cassidy shot back, which piqued his temper.

He willed it back. Her bad attitude around him wasn’t new, but the reasons he needed to play nice were and didn’t allow for him to respond in kind. It was much harder today than it had been yesterday. At the schoolhouse, he’d done okay. Found a vibe that he’d settled into as he held his tongue, singular in his purpose and focused on the end result of landing himself a job. At least until she’d thrown him for a loop by noticing his hands.

He’d long since stopped trying to understand why everything out of her mouth put his back up, but since it did, his default had become multiple variations of doing his best to give as good as he got. That was easy.

All at once, Serenity’s prediction swam through his head, probably because she was standing there in another patchwork dress quietly watching him. After much give and take over the last year…what was that but a perfect encapsulation of his life on a minute-by-minute basis.

“Cass,” Aria muttered. “Remember what we talked about.”

Cassidy glanced at Tristan and rolled her eyes, then murmured something back to Aria that he didn’t catch, likely on purpose. Listing all of his evils, no doubt.

“Thank you for your service,” she said without looking at him and earned a sharp nod from Aria. Obviously her friend had been coaching her on not being witchy to her fiancé’s former teammate, which Tristan appreciated. But he could fight his own battles.

“You’re welcome. Happy to do it.” Standard response. But also true.

He’d joined the Navy because he’d wanted to give back to the country that had welcomed his father. His dad had come to America on a work visa from Marseilles and married a woman he’d met along the way strictly in anticipation of a green card, as Tristan understood it. Apparently a baby hadn’t been part of the plan, a permanent consequence of no interest to his mother who’d stuck around long enough to give birth but not much past that. His dad had raised him and while they weren’t close by any stretch, Tristan had a healthy respect for the difficulties his single father had faced.

He’d become a SEAL because it suited him to be a cut above.

“Careful,” Aria said. “You’re almost having a civil conversation.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Cassidy replied with an obnoxious chin jerk in Tristan’s direction. “He’s half the equation.”

“Hey, this half knows exactly what to do with his equations,” he blasted back before checking his temper again. Why did she get to him so easily? It would be so much better if he could just appreciate her for being a pretty woman, snuff out the flame between them and move on.

“Yeah, you seem like the kind of guy who has more than passing familiarity with a one-to-many relationship,” she said flatly.

That was completely unfair. He’d never cheated on a woman, nor would he, and he didn’t appreciate the implication. If she was going to get nasty, that gave him permission to give it right back to her, didn’t it? “That’s not a math concept, but merci for playing.”

All at once, her face closed in and she shook her head, lips tight. What, she didn’t like being corrected? Too bad. She should pick her battles better.

The moment she fled toward the door of Voodoo Grocery, his mad vanished and he swore.

Serenity and Ruby had been watching this exchange with morbid fascination, heads wagging back and forth each time the ball crossed the net. Apparently they’d decided enough was enough and waded into the skirmish before he could call out an apology to the swiftly disappearing backside of Cassidy Calloway.

“Aria, tell us about the party,” Ruby said brightly, her smile a little too forced for the subject as she hooked arms with Tristan, likely so he couldn’t follow Cassidy. “It’s tonight, right?”

Aria nodded with an equally obligatory smile as she launched into a rundown of her favorite subject. “I can’t wait for everyone to see how we’ve decorated the rooftop patio at the hotel. It’s magical with strings of lights and some donated furniture. Damian Scott loaned us a few potted palms from his resort near San Antonio. With all of the flyers and commercial spots we’ve run, I really hope we’ll have a great crowd.”

Which was way too much information and her voice had gotten louder the longer she’d talked. So, he’d made it awkward for everyone apparently. And he hadn’t even started it. The ladies of Superstition Springs certainly didn’t want him to finish it either, since they’d closed in around him pointedly.

Yeah, yeah. He got it. Give Cassidy her space. He had a lot of practice at that.

“You can all relax,” he told them grimly. “I won’t come to the party and ruin it for everyone. It’s critical to attract new residents and we can’t have two of them acting like Hatfields and McCoys.”

As much as it pained him to admit, it would be easier if he just didn’t go.

“Don’t be silly!” Ruby said at the same time as Serenity blurted out, “Tristan Marchande, don’t you dare miss Aria and Isaiah’s party.”

“C’est bon. If I skip it, then Cassidy can come without worrying I’ll malign her math skills.” For real, though—if she couldn’t take it, she shouldn’t dish it out.

“I’ll talk to her,” Serenity offered. “Make sure she knows it’s important that you both be there and get along.”

Aria shook her head. “That’s for me to handle. I’ll take it. I do not understand what her problem is.”

“Maybe Ember should talk to her,” Serenity mused with a small frown. “They were friends for a long a time.”

Aria shrugged, clearly not on board with letting her sister handle the situation, though if Serenity’s point was that Aria hadn’t done such a hot job so far, it wasn’t out of line to switch tactics. Not that Tristan had a lot of faith there was anyone who could get a bead on Cassidy. The woman was a breed of her own. He kept his mouth shut though since he’d contributed to the problem, as Ruby’s firm grip on his arm reminded him.

Actually, he might be most of the problem. He knew why she wasn’t responding to him on any level—he’d been discounting Serenity’s prediction, just like she’d accused him of.

The answer to getting his spark back was right there in the text. Make mental adjustments. Sure, he’d jumped into the fray of give and take with Cassidy readily enough but not with the spirit the prediction intended. He’d have to try something else instead of meeting her fire with fire, like he’d done both times over the last couple of days.

Cassidy was the key if the prediction could be believed. No wonder he couldn’t charm her. He hadn’t fully understood the role she was fated to play in his recovery. Regardless of whether Serenity’s direct line to the universe had credence, he couldn’t keep letting Cassidy get to him. It was causing problems.

He should be the one to talk to her, not Aria or even Ember. Was he the maestro des femmes or what? Surely he could figure out how to make enough mental adjustments to convince her that if she came to the party, he’d be on his best behavior. That worked in his favor anyway. Then he could ease into the teaching situation.

By the time he’d extracted himself from the ladies at Voodoo who’d spent an inordinate amount of time ensuring he heard exactly how hard Aria and Isaiah had worked to plan the party—code for don’t screw it up for them—Cassidy had disappeared. She wasn’t at the schoolhouse, and she didn’t answer the door at her house. Of course he knew where she lived; Superstition Springs had a population of less than a hundred. It was hard not to be aware of intimate details of people’s lives.

Except this was one time he couldn’t exactly ask around town if anyone had seen Cassidy. Word would get out that he’d been chasing her and then if she didn’t show up to the party, folks would rightly pin that to him. Half the day wasted with nothing to show for it.

On the off-chance she’d circle back to town at some point to finish her abandoned errand from earlier, he staked out a place near the window in his room where he could see almost the whole town and waited for her to appear.

She didn’t. Not via the main street anyway and he’d sat there with his eyes peeled for almost three hours. Nothing in the grand scheme of things when waiting on a target to show while hidden in the shadows of another building, but a million minutes too long in pursuit of a woman who shouldn’t have him so stirred up. If Aria had managed to get word out to her friend that she’d wanted to speak to her, it was possible that Cassidy had used the side entrance around the corner to reach the third floor of the hotel where Aria and Serenity lived, effectively evading his surveillance.

Ridiculous. Tristan didn’t lose targets. Normally. Cassidy had warped him into some kind of mutant new normal. Obviously, he’d just missed her at the schoolhouse. That’s where she spent every day, even Sunday sometimes, as he’d heard a few folks mention while noting her absence at the non-denominational church everyone attended. He’d try tracking her down again. The party wasn’t slated to start until eight. You didn’t host anything outside in the heat a second earlier than eight p.m. in June, not unless you planned to fry the guests to a crisp. So he had plenty of time to track down his recalcitrant mark.

But that was before West waylaid him in the hall outside Tristan’s room, where his former teammate forced him to endure a very long lecture about how tonight was not the time to indulge in his famous display of temper. Tristan’s passion for everything was well established.

“J’ai pigé!” he muttered as West finally wound down, not sure whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that his friend had no idea that Tristan’s passion had been blown away along with most of a building in that little village in Syria. “I’ll take care of it.”

“See that you do,” West advised, his multicolored eyes brooking no nonsense. “Aria was really upset earlier about the incident in Voodoo Grocery.”

That had made the rounds already? “I was trying to be nice! You act like I deliberately set out to hurt her feelings.”

“I went to the movies with you both.” The hard cross of West’s arms reminded him how that outing had gone. “It wasn’t pretty. And the best you had to say for the way you two sniped at each other was a lame excuse. Try harder.”

“I’m not a five-year-old,” Tristan groused without much heat because yeah, that had not been a fun date for anyone. The outing had been strictly designed to allow Aria and West to spend time together without anyone realizing they were falling for each other, like that had been a big secret, even back then. “Maybe it would be best if I just skipped the party.”

Serenity and the other ladies would get over their disappointment. He didn’t know if he would though. The party was a big deal, something the entire town had jumped in to help organize and he wanted to see how it panned out. The development company that had its eye on the land underneath the town had given Hardy and Havana six months to get Superstition Springs profitable enough as a tourist destination to warrant leaving it alone. Otherwise, they’d start offering big bucks to the residents until they had bought enough old buildings on the main strip to raze the town. There’d be a shopping center right where West and Tristan were standing before long if the plan didn’t work.

West snorted. “It’s a party. I don’t think it’s in your DNA to avoid one.”

Yeah, usually Tristan was the one who brought the party, strictly by showing up. Skipping it felt like a big concession. “Cassidy is the one who needs to be there to talk to prospective residents about her school. Not me.”

“I need you too. You are my best secret weapon.” West stuck a hand on Tristan’s shoulder deliberately, bleeding non-verbal pieces of his argument into the contact. “There will be women there from all over. Who else besides you has the capacity to make them feel welcome and like they’re a part of the community from the first moment?”

Ice coated his stomach at the compliment. That was part of West’s expectation too? That Tristan would flirt with all of the guests well enough to convince them to move to Superstition Springs? Usually, he’d laugh and sock his friend on the arm with an off-color comment because sure, even on a bad day, that was the kind of stuff he could do in his sleep.

Maybe once upon a time, but probably not today given his new Cassidy-induced mutant normal. How could he charm potential new residents if he couldn’t succeed at a simple thing like having a conversation with her? All the more reason to shift things onto some kind of an even keel between them so Tristan could get back to normal-normal. That’s what the prediction had to mean with all the talk of shifts and flow and adjustments. He just hadn’t quite realized how many aspects of his personality had been compromised lately. Or how deeply Cassidy had become intertwined with the solution.

“Don’t be shocked if you have to charm them yourself,” Tristan muttered. “Or talk about the school for that matter. I can’t keep Cassidy from storming off if she gets a notion to.”

But he still had to try.

West nodded. “Fair enough. Aria and I will take it all in stride as best we can.”

West waylaid Tristan’s renewed purpose by shuffling him off to Ruby’s Diner and there wasn’t a good way to get out of it without admitting he’d planned to go look for Cassidy. The less he said about that, the less apparent it would be if he didn’t get very far with her. After all, he’d already tried twice and as Cassidy liked to point out, there were two halves to the equation. Her half baffled him.

Finally, West set him free as his teammate hooked up with Aria to go do party business. The majority of the town’s residents had drifted into the diner it seemed, probably in anticipation of the party. Not Cassidy though.

The crowd made it easy for him to duck out through the kitchen, a habit that he shouldn’t have had to perfect. It was on him to resolve this conflict with the school headmistress in record time so they could both enjoy the party that represented a huge step in the establishment of Superstition Springs as a tourist destination.

He had one hour.