Water Witch (20 page)

Her father hadn’t loved her and that was sad. Sad for her, sad for him. But that was in the past. Sam did love her. Warts, witching stick, and all. So what if he did think she was a little flaky? After today, he’d have to rethink his skepticism. But since she’d repeatedly turned him away, would he give her another chance? She’d give almost anything if he would call or suddenly appear at her door, demanding to be let in.

She picked up her guitar and caressed the smooth wood. Strumming a few chords, she began to sing, thinking of Sam, willing him to come, drawing him to her with the power of her love.

“Green, green, Guadalupe-green

Willow water wise.

Green, green, Guadalupe-green

It’s the color of your eyes.”

Max sat wishing with every fiber of her being that Sam would magically appear as the words became an emotional plea.

“Now your arms enfold me

Come close to me and hold me . . .”

She stopped, listening. The only sound she heard was the steady hum of the refrigerator and canned laughter from a television playing in the room next door. She sighed and laid the guitar aside. Such things only happened in romantic movies anyway.

Sam had pride as well, and she’d been so blinded by her own needs that she had trampled his once too often. He’d told her he’d be waiting. The next move was up to her.

A mischievous smile lifted her lips as a plan formed in her head. She jumped up and quickly dressed in dark slacks and a red sweater. After stepping into her loafers, she made up her face, pulled on her windbreaker, and stuck a flashlight into her pocket. Still chuckling, she dashed out the door and ran smack into a young woman who was about to knock.

“Sorry,” Max said, stepping back into the room. “I was in a hurry.”

“Are you Miss Strahan?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, thank heavens I caught you. This is for you.”

The young woman hoisted her delivery from where it was propped against the wall and brought it inside. Five feet tall and supported on a tripod, the thing was shaped like a giant wishbone and covered with white orchids and tiny green and blue glitter butterflies. Across its width was a white banner with CONGRATULATIONS in gold letters.

“I would have just died if I’d missed you,” the harried woman said. “I hope you like it. Our shop has never made a witching stick before, but Mr. Garrett was very emphatic about what he wanted when he called this morning. I promised to have it at your door this afternoon, but we had to send to Austin and San Antonio to get enough orchids and the shipment was late. Then my assistant fell off a stool and hurt her arm and I had to take her to the hospital. I thought the doctor never would get there. Then wouldn’t you know that my van wouldn’t start, and I had to get somebody to come out and jump my battery.” She took a deep breath. “It’s been one of those days.”

Max bit back laughter as she nodded sympathetically. “I’ve had those myself.”

“I hope Mr. Garrett won’t be angry that it was so late.”

“It’s fine,” Max assured her. Then a comment the florist had made sank in. “Did you say that he called this morning?”

“Bright and early. The phone was ringing when I opened the shop.”

After the woman had gone, Max unpinned the card from the ribbon and read it. “Congratulations, my lovely water witch,” it said. “I’ll be waiting.”

He had placed the order before they’d hit water. She touched the velvety petals of the orchids and ran her finger over the sparkling wing of a green butterfly. “Sam Garrett, you dear, sweet man.”

*    *    *

There was not much moonlight to illuminate her way as Max parked beside the road and walked up the rise to Sam’s. A steady chirr of crickets and frogs blended with the river’s rush along its rocky path to muffle the sound of her footsteps. Keeping to the side of the drive so that her approach would be hidden by the trees and bushes, she stealthily picked her way toward the house.

Stumbling over a root, she fell to her knees and let out a soft curse. She got to her feet and pulled out the flashlight. She hadn’t wanted to use it, but perhaps if she kept the beam pointed just a foot or two ahead of her, nobody would see it.

The porch light was on, but she didn’t plan to use the front door. When she lost the cover of the trees, she turned off the flashlight and crammed it into the pocket of her windbreaker. Crouching low, she made a dash for the part of the house where Sam’s bedroom was located. Once there, she plastered herself against the stone wall, concealing herself in the shadows and biting her lip to keep from giggling.

After a moment, she tiptoed toward the double windows of Sam’s room and, moving very slowly, peeked around to look inside one. Except for a faint illumination from the hall, the room was dark. She eased over and tried the sash. It inched upward. Quietly, she raised it higher and threw one leg over the sill.

A hand clamped around her ankle. “I thought you’d never get here,” a husky voice said from the darkness. Strong arms lifted her through the opening. “I’ve been waiting.”

“Oh, Sam,” Max said, disappointed that her ruse was foiled. “How did you know it was me?”

“For one thing,” he said, gathering her in his arms and nuzzling the side of her neck as Dowser rubbed against her legs and licked her hand, “your friend here has been dancing around the house having a fit since you got out of the jeep. For another, you’d make a lousy commando, sweetheart. I saw your flashlight and you were about as quiet and unobtrusive as an elephant.”

“An elephant!” She was indignant at the comparison.

“A very cute little elephant.” He laughed and kissed her nose. “But noisy.”

She joined in his laughter and snuggled close, relaxing against the solid warmth of him. It felt so good to have his arms around her. “How I’ve missed you.” For a moment they simply held each other, eyes closed, pulses adjusting to a fast, synchronized beat. “Goose and I hit water. Seventy-eight-and-a-half feet.”

“I know. Buck called me. I think that’s wonderful, Angel. I’m so proud of you.”

Smiling contentedly against his chest, she said, “And my agent sold some of my songs for an album.”

“Fantastic.” He gave her a little squeeze. “I never doubted that it would happen. You’re very talented.”

Dowser whined and tried to nudge his way between their legs. Sam switched on the table lamp and took the Doberman by the, collar. “Come on, fellow. You’ve been romping with your girl all day. Now I want to do a little romping with mine.”

Max knelt and hugged the dog, scratching his ears and saying a few words of greeting before Sam put him out and shut the door.

As he ambled back across the room, Sam’s gaze devoured her. “Lord, woman, you look good. Come here to me.” Grabbing her in his arms, he hugged her tight and rocked her back and forth. “I’m never going to let you out of my sight again.”

“Oh, Sam, I have so much I want to say to you, so much I want to explain.”

“Angel, there is only one thing I want to hear. No, make that two. I want to hear you say you love me. And I want you to promise that well get married as soon as possible.”

Max looked up into river-green eyes shining with warm adoration, and her soul soared. “I love you, Sam Garrett. With all my heart. And I promise that we’ll get married as soon as possible.”

“That’s my Angel.”

His lips met hers and their spirits merged in a kiss that was sweeter, more potent than the rarest aphrodisiac of the gods. Old remnants of the past were swept away by wondrous new feelings as she clung to him, savoring the taste of his mouth, reveling in the feel of his hands on her body.

When he stopped to toss her jacket aside and lift her sweater over her head, she said, “Sam, I was so wrong about some things. We need to talk.”

“Later, love, we’ll talk later. I’m so hungry for you, I could die.” He bent to run his tongue along the curve of her shoulder as his hands unhooked her bra, then slipped down to fumble with the button of her slacks.

“Sam,” she said in a breathless sigh as her slacks slithered down her legs, “why did you order flowers sent before we finished the well?”

“Because, Angel, I believe in you.” He scooped her up in his arms and walked toward the king-size bed. “And I went for broke.”

*    *    *

Dear Reader:

I hope you’ve enjoyed
Water Witch
. If so, please let others know by tweeting and/or posting a review on the website where you purchased it. And unless you borrowed this book from a public library, you should have purchased it from one of the commercial e-book online stores such as Amazon, B&N, Sony, Apple iStore, Kobo, Smashwords, etc.  (Occasionally one of these reputable commercial sellers mentioned offer a freebie with author permission, and some have special lending programs.) Several other sites online claim to have the right to share scads of free e-books. They don’t. I own the copyrights to all the books with my name on them, and if you downloaded from one of these pirated sources, you’ve received stolen property. Please be aware of that. Writing books is the way I earn money for groceries and my car payment.

You can find me at <
http://www.janhudson.com
> for comments and questions or to sign up for my newsletter. Stop by. I love hearing from readers.

I’ll have several of my back list of tales with Texas ties, author revised and updated, coming as e-books in the next few months. Some of these humorous romances (most originally published by Bantam Loveswept) are out now or will be soon. Excerpts from
Always Firday
and
The Right Moves
follow. After these, be on the lookout for the Berringer Brothers Trilogy in the summer of 2012:
Big and Bright, Call Me Sin,
and
Slightly Shady.
I think you’ll love these Texas based stories about twins who are Texas Rangers and their older brother, who is also a heartthrob. All are filled with love, laughter and a little sizzle.

Also, I’ll be e-publishing an original humorous mystery with female PI Kelly Green and her very unusual sidekick in the fall of 2012. You won’t want to miss this light paranormal–OUT OF SIGHT!

*    *    *

Texas Tales: Houston

“Somebody here call for a tow?”

Leaving his post beside one of the potted trees flanking the carved door, the parking attendant stepped from beneath the red canopy. White script across the front of the awning discreetly identified Le Boeuf. The same script adorned the left pocket of the smiling young man’s red jacket. His smile widened when he looked into the cab of the tow truck.

“Sure thing. It’s for Mr. Russo. Park it over there,” he said, pointing to the curb farther ahead. “I’ll tell him you’re here.”

Chris Ponder pulled the big black wrecker to the spot indicated, climbed down from the cab, and rubbed her back. It had been a long, rough night, pleasantly warm for March in Houston but full of the typical Saturday night crazies. Already she’d worked three major wrecks on the freeways, a couple of side-street fender benders, and four or five other assorted calls. She’d plumped her pocketbook considerably, but she was pooped.

A glance at her watch confirmed that it was almost one-thirty in the morning. After this job she was going to call it a day. She’d been at it for over ten hours. Stifling a yawn, she crammed her fingers in the back pockets of her jeans, rocked back on her scuffed Nikes, and waited.

The smiling young man was back in a short time. “Mr. Russo’s with the manager in his office. He said he’d be another few minutes and to come in and have a drink on him.”

Scowling, she looked down at her grease-smeared jersey and then to the elegant entrance of Le Boeuf. “In there? Like this?”

“Sure,” the young man said. He lifted an eyebrow and stared at the front of her shirt. “You look fine to me.”

Chris rolled her eyes heavenward. Lord, deliver her from libidinous males, even teenaged ones. This boy, who couldn’t be a day older than her eighteen-year-old stepson, continued to ogle her. “Knock it off, kid,” she said. “I’m nearly old enough to be your mother.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, sobering and straightening at the stern parental tone universally recognized by sons.

“Come on,” Chris said, smiling and softening her words. “I could use a cup of coffee.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His grin was back as he led the way and opened the heavy door for her.

Inside, it was dark and smoky. Rock music, so loud that it vibrated the floor beneath her feet, was mixed with frenzied, high-pitched screams.

What kind of a place was this? After the bright lights of the parking lot outside, Chris could hardly see a thing. A form appeared beside her.

“Welcome to Le Boeuf, honey,” a deep male voice drawled. “The tables are all full, but there’s a spot at the bar. What can I get you to drink?”

Chris squinted at the form, but all she could make out was a red bow tie that seemed to glow in the dark and white teeth gleaming in a wide grin. Someone jostled her and she automatically reached out to steady herself.