The Lost Sheenan's Bride

“I’m listening,” his agent interrupted quietly, “but Shane, you have to finish this. You were paid a huge advance for this, half of it has already been deposited into your account.”

“I’ll return it.”

“And what about my percentage? I’ve spent my piece. And the piece coming. I have kids in college. You’re putting my daughter through Princeton and my son through Columbia. Their tuition is funded by you. And my little girl, the one in junior high? The dancer? Her dance team travels and competes because you write these books that allow me to underwrite her team. You pay our bills.”

“You’d handled six other books—”

“And I’ve spent that money, too.”

“What about your other authors?”

“Shane, no one is as big as you. You’re my star. You’re my business.”

Shane closed his eyes and held his breath, trying to see a way through. There had to be some kind of option here.

“Drive to White Fish,” Mark said with forced cheer. “Ski. Get fresh air. You’ll feel better. You’ve got cabin fever, and it’s natural. You’re at that point of the book. It happens with every book.”

Shane didn’t speak.

“Shane, buddy, listen to me. You’ve never not met a deadline. Never. Ever. In ten years you’ve never once been late on anything. You’ll come through. You’ll be fine.”

“It’s different this time.”

Mark was silent a moment. “How different?”

“Career changing different.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that again. You’re brilliant. Your books are works of art—”

“I don’t need the bullshit.”

“It’s not. You’re huge. And not just for me, but for the publisher. You make them a lot of money.”

“I don’t mind when it’s the right story. This is the wrong one.”

Silence stretched across the line. Finally, Mark said, “How much time do you need to make it work?”

Shane didn’t answer.

Mark sighed deeply. “I’ll let Saul know. We’ll get you an extension. It’s not a big deal. Don’t put more pressure on yourself. It’s not going to help. The book will be done when it’s done, and that’s fine.”

Mark hung up.

Shane sat back in his chair and looked at the newspaper headlines and thought about how it must have been for Rory returning from dropping his sister off at a play date to find his family slain.

It must have been hell.

It must have been because it was hell trying to recreate it.

It was late afternoon when Jet finally finished in the schoolhouse and the sky was darkening as she made her way to her car. But, reaching her vehicle, she discovered that one of the doors was slightly ajar and she prayed the open door hadn’t drained her battery. It’d happened once already. It seemed she had a bad habit of doing too many things at one time, resulting in interior car lights being left on, or the hatchback door slightly open.

Climbing behind the wheel she tried to start the car, but it made a feeble dying sound before going silent.

She grimaced. So not good. There was no way she wanted to call Harley and Brock now.

She pumped the gas and tried the engine again.

Nothing.

Jet sat for a moment in the dark. The moon shone overhead. Thank goodness it wasn’t snowing, but it was cold, and there wasn’t a lot of traffic on this side road on a Saturday.

Why didn’t she go home a couple hours ago and finish grading there? Why had she insisted on staying until every grade had been recorded?

So frustrating.

She’d have to call Harley. Good Lord, she dreaded that call.

Reaching for her phone she tapped messages, scrolling through her recent message to Harley’s text from early this morning. She passed Shane’s name and paused.

He was out here, up one of these roads. He couldn’t be that far, either. Five or ten minutes at the most.

If he was home.

If he was willing to help her.

He’d be willing to help her.

Jet called him. He answered promptly. “Shane, here.”

“Hey, it’s Jet. Are you home right now?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have jumper cables? I’m at school and my car battery is dead.”

“Where exactly are you?”

“Take the exit on Highway 89 just before Emigrant Gulch, turn left, follow Yellowstone River up a quarter of a mile and you’ll see the little schoolhouse.”

“I’m leaving now, but keep your phone handy in case I need more directions.”

Jet hung up, clapped her hands together, and then tucked them into her coat pockets. Harley wouldn’t be happy that Shane was coming to help her, but Jet was glad. He was close. He’d be quick. And best of all, he wouldn’t give her a hard time.

Chapter Six

Jet’s directions were pretty good. In the deepening twilight, Shane spotted the faded red cupola, where a bell must have once hung, topped with a flagpole, minus a flag first, and only spotted Jet standing by her car as he rounded the bend in the road, the road built to accommodate the powerful Yellowstone River, his headlights illuminating her where she stood in front of the school next to her car.

She waved at him as he turned into the small gravel parking lot, and just seeing her, and that quick smile and happy wave gave him a little pang. The good kind and some of the tension he’d been feeling all day eased.

She looked cold but cute in her coat and cap and mittens. It was good to see her. She was little, but fierce, and as he slowed and pulled in front of her car, parking hood to hood to better jump her battery, he flashed back to last night, seeing Jet at the dinner table after his run-in with Cormac. She’d stared him down with her fierce teacher glare, so very, very disapproving, and he found himself smiling ruefully. He liked that she’d go toe to toe with him, holding her own, asking him questions, expecting a straight answer.

He turned off the engine, but left his headlights on as he climbed out. “Hello, trouble maker.”

She laughed and walked towards him, closing the distance. “Calamity Jane. I know. That’s why I couldn’t call Harley.”

Shane wrapped an arm around her, giving her a quick hug. “You’re freezing,” he said.

“Not too bad. But I am glad to see you.”

“Why didn’t you wait in the school?”

“I was worried you wouldn’t find me. It’s hard in the dark.”

“I’d find you anywhere. Don’t ever worry about that.” His gaze met hers and held. “Now pop your hood, let’s get you up and running.”

While Jet unlatched her hood, he grabbed cables that had come with his rental SUV. When he’d first left college he’d bought a lemon of a car that barely ran and every couple of days he had to jumpstart the damn thing so he made quick work of hooking up the cables to the batteries now.

Once they were attached, he started his car, and then told her to start hers.

r />   It took only one adjustment of the clips before her car started right up. “That’s still a good battery,” he said. “By the time you drive home, it should be charged. I wouldn’t turn it off until you get home, though. Were you planning on making any stops?”

“Not now,” she answered, clapping her gloved hands, warming them. “Thank you so much. You saved me—”

“I didn’t save you,” he interrupted dryly, removing the cables. “Harley and Brock are not that far.”

“Yes, but you saved me from another lecture.” She grinned ruefully, and pushed down the hood, locking it. “And I love my sister, I do, but oh, her talks…she can get so serious…and it’s bad enough having Mom and Dad lecture, but add in Harley and it’s too much.”

“Well, glad I could help then.” He slammed his own hood and tossed the cables into the rear of the SUV. “And we’ll keep this meeting our secret to keep you from getting another scolding.”

“Fine. It’s a deal. But since you’re here, do you want to see the school?”

He glanced past her to the little building with the small, wooden front porch with a short unpainted railing, and an equally plain wooden front door flanked by two tall windows to maximize the light. Five more windows ran the length of the school, the windows trimmed in a dirty white, the siding painted a faded red. “It’s not very big.”

“No. There’s not much to it,” she agreed. “It’d be a very quick tour.”

He could tell from her expression—so hopeful and excited—that she wanted to show him and it was impossible to tell her no. He didn’t know how it’d happened but he’d come to like her quite a bit, and he felt very protective of her. “I’d love to see.”

“Come on. We’ll leave my car running. Nobody is going to take it.”