The Lost Sheenan's Bride

But when Jet emerged from her room a half hour later to make dinner, Troy and Cormac were gone, and Kara was already in her bedroom, door closed, and didn’t come out for the rest of the evening.

The old Sheenan homestead was quiet at night. But not empty.

Dillon Sheenan had warned him there was a spirit hanging around the place, and Shane had smiled grimly, wondering if the youngest Sheenan brother had been jesting, but after nine months at the ranch, living in the family ranch house, Shane had come to believe.

But Dillon had been wrong about one thing.

There wasn’t one spirit here. There were several, although the dominant energy was feminine and nonthreatening. But even nonthreatening, Catherine Sheenan made herself known, determined to connect with him.

Usually Shane ignored her. He told himself he wasn’t punishing her, but rather, he didn’t know what to do with her. He told himself he wasn’t angry with her, or his biological father, but that wasn’t true. He was angry. He was deeply resentful as well.

Never mind hurt.

Maybe that was why his mother’s ghost hovered around him.

Maybe that was why tonight she wouldn’t leave him alone. He’d felt her from the moment he entered the kitchen to make dinner. She was weight and energy in the kitchen, filling the emptiness as if she were still alive and in human form.

“Go away, Catherine,” he said, turning the heat off from under the cast iron skillet before plating his steak. “Not in the mood.”

He carried his dinner—steak and a microwaved potato—to the family room, the only room with a TV, and dropped onto the old couch and turned the television on. He’d paid to have cable put into the house when he moved in last spring. He wasn’t a big television guy but after two weeks of uneasy silence, two weeks of being watched by Catherine and friends, he decided cable was needed. And it had helped. It helped now.

Shane ate in front of the TV, flipping through channels, watching first David Muir cover the news, and then a recorded episode of Last Week with John Oliver, and then turned the TV off, giving up on entertainment for the night.

In the kitchen, he washed his dishes and the hair on his nape rose, followed by a ripple down his spine. She was here.

Watching.

Waiting.

But waiting for what? For him to acknowledge her? He’d done that.

Waiting for him to forgive her?

He didn’t think he could do that.

Exasperated, he turned the water off, reached for a dish towel, and dried his hands. “Yes, Catherine?”

Silence greeted him. The silence felt unbearably sad.

His chest tightened. He swallowed hard. “Don’t blame me,” he muttered, tossing the now damp towel onto the counter. “You were the one that left me. Not the other way around.”

But as he took the stairs to his bedroom, he could taste tears. Tears he never shed. He’d waited years for her to come back. She’d promised she’d come back and get him.

She never did.

Jet woke up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and it got her out of bed immediately. Stepping into slippers, Jet pulled a sweatshirt over her flannel pajamas and headed to the kitchen where Kara was pouring herself a cup of coffee.

Jet nodded gratefully when Kara gestured to the pot. “Would love some,” she answered, smothering a yawn.

“You’re up early,” Kara said, handing Jet a steaming mug.

“Didn’t sleep well,” Jet admitted, wrapping her hands around the glazed mug, saving the warmth. “Weird dreams.”

Kara pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat down. “What about?”

“The Sheenans.”

“Why is that weird? Your sister is married to one.”

“But this was different. This wasn’t a dream where we’re eating popcorn and watching a movie. The dream was intense. Stressful.”

“How so?”

Jet splashed flavored creamer into her coffee and crossed the floor to sit down at the table across from Kara. “It’s hard to explain, but in the dream they were in trouble, or there was trouble, and there was all this drama and worry. Even Harley was upset and she was running around, trying to fix things, or fix something, and I remember just feeling awful in the dream, and I woke up blue. And worried.” Jet frowned. “I think it’s because Troy and Cormac were here last night, and I know they were upset.”

Kara wrinkled her nose. “Oh. Right. That makes sense.”

“I know you can’t talk about it, but Cormac was definitely not happy last night, and Troy was Troy…charming and friendly…but it was obvious something wasn’t right.”

Kara sipped her coffee, taking her time replying. “They’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry.”

“But there is something…wrong.”

“You’re right. I can’t say anything. But if you’re concerned, ask your sister. Or Brock. Maybe one of them will fill you in.”

That wasn’t going to happen, Jet thought, taking another sip. Harley was a great big sister but she was notoriously tight-lipped about all things personal, which was probably why she and Brock worked so well together. Neither of them were particularly touchy-feely, or into the baring of the souls. Jet doubted either of them would tell her anything, and she wasn’t going to risk getting shot down. It was bad enough being the baby of the family without having the oldest family members put her firmly in her place.

Or what they perceived as being her place.

“Let me ask you something else,” Jet said, hesitating a moment to pick her words with care. “Do you have a problem with Shane Swan?”

Kara’s head lifted abruptly and she gave Jet a searching look. “I don’t. No.”

“You haven’t heard anything sinister or bad. And knowing you, you’d be aware if he had a criminal past and you’d tell me if you thought he was a dangerous person.”

Kara’s stare became more pointed. “What’s this about?”

“He’s asked me to dinner Friday.”

“Oh, Jet…”

“I said yes,” she added quickly.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Kara’s brow creased. “Actually, I’m positive it’s a bad idea. I think you need to tell Harley and Brock and get their input.”

“They’re not going to dinner.”

Kara gave her a look.

Jet grinned. “I can imagine you cross examining people. It wouldn’t be pretty.”

“This is me being nice, Jet, and you and I both know that the Sheenans are not friendly with Shane Swan. They wouldn’t be happy about you having dinner with him.”

“Harley is married to the family, not me.”

“You were just telling me last week how much you love those guys. That the Sheenans are so good-looking and smart and kind and that Troy is practically James Bond—”

“Stop. That’s embarrassing. And I’m sure I only said it because I’d had a beer or two.”

“You did say it.”

“Then let’s forget I said it, and this is just a talk about books and teaching and stuff like that. I’m sure he’s not viewing it as a date—” She broke off as she saw Kara’s arched brow. “He’s not, Kara. Trust me.”

“Where are you going for dinner?”

“Gallatin Steakhouse in Livingston.”

“It’s a date.”

“It’s not. Neither of us have ever been there and we thought it’d be fun.”

“How are you getting there?”

She opened her mouth, then pressed her lips together without answering.

“He’s picking you up,” Kara said. “And I can tell you’re determined to go, so don’t say I didn’t warn you when all hell breaks loose later.”

“No one needs to find out.”

Kara rolled her eyes. “This is a small town. Everyone will find out. Trust me.”