Shifting Dreams

by Elizabeth Hunter

  Low still had a sullen expression on his face. “I’m never going to shift.”

  Ignoring the flutter of fear in her heart, Jena patted her son’s shoulder and reassured him. “Yes, you will. Just be patient.”

  “Dad didn’t.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “That doesn’t mean it will happen to you, Low. You know how rare that is.”

  Rare it may have been, but for the descendants of the seven families who didn’t shift, life was short. Heart attack. Premature stroke. Lowell Sr., Jena’s childhood sweetheart, had been lucky to make it to his late twenties before a mysterious brain cancer had cut his life short, leaving Jena with two small boys and an aching hollow in her heart that still echoed on the loneliest nights.

  Low just shrugged his thin shoulders and grabbed a book out of his backpack. “I’ll help Aaron with his homework. I know you have to get ready.”

  “Thanks, kiddo.”

  “Is Aunt Christy coming for dinner?”

  “Yep. She’ll be here around five.”

  “Cool.”

  Low walked down the hall. Jena called out to him. “Low?” He turned. “I know she lets you stay up late, and I’m okay with it for you, but make sure Bear’s getting enough sleep, okay? You’re his big brother.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I know, Mom.”

  “Good kid. I’m gonna get clean. Then I’ll come out and get you guys a snack.”

  “Thanks.”

  Hours later, after a rushed dinner, Jena was primped and ready for another night of work at the bar. Her long runner’s legs were encased in skintight jeans that showed off a trim figure. She’d put on a halter-top her other best friend had convinced her to buy on a girls’ weekend in Palm Springs. It was snug in all the right places and even gave the illusion that Jena had breasts, which hadn’t really been true since the last time she’d breast-fed, but then, illusion was everything when it came to good tips.

  Plus, it was just fun to get out every now and then. She never minded helping Oliver Campbell run his family’s old roadhouse on the edge of town. The Cave was an institution and drew some of the best business in the desert. It was also the unofficial boundary of the Springs’ territory. Few outsiders ever got past Ollie. They were welcome to the cold drinks and the good music, but if you weren’t one of the regulars from the Springs, the Tribes, or one of the motorcycle clubs that made The Cave their home, then don’t linger. And don’t get too familiar with the staff.

  But please, tip your waitress, because Mama needs to buy two growing boys shoes before their toes poke out of the old ones.

  Jena did all right. The diner was a steady business and she didn’t need much to get by. The house was family property and didn’t have a mortgage. Her car was paid for. But keeping up with everything two kids needed was still a challenge some months. And that was another reason Jena dolled up and headed out to Ollie’s. A few good tips wouldn’t hurt the bank account.

  She pulled into the back and could hear the band warming up. Despite the isolated location, The Cave had become known for some of the best music in the desert. Rock, blues, old-fashioned country. If you were an independent musician looking for a gig, then The Cave was the place to play. Ollie paid the bands decent, but the money wasn’t really the draw. Saying you’d survived the tough-as-nails crowd at The Cave without bottles being thrown at you was the real prize. More than one famous musician or group had a picture on the wall that led to the bathrooms.

  Not behind the bar, though. Nothing was behind the bar besides beer, liquor bottles, and the hulking form of Ollie Campbell.

  “Hey, honey.” Jena slipped into Ollie’s office and put her purse on the bookcase behind his desk. Ollie’s office was very much like the man himself. Solid furniture, an eclectic mix of decor, and quiet, soundproofed walls.

  “How was your day, Jen?”

  He had a pencil in his mouth and he was chewing on it. He’d been doing that since the year before when he stopped smoking.

  “It was fine. You gotta stop that, Ollie. You’re going to ruin your teeth.”

  He chuckled. “Doubtful. You know what these teeth tear up on a regular basis?”

  “I’m not talking Bear Ollie. I’m talking Regular Ollie and you will ruin your teeth if you keep doing that. Try some gum.”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  She whacked the back of his head. “Shut up, you’re two months older than me.”

  He just gave her a quiet smile. Quiet smile. Quiet man. If you didn’t know him, Ollie Campbell might seem like a hard case. He was well over six feet tall, had dark curly hair, trimmed short, and a full beard that hid his dimples. Black and grey tattoo work decorated most of his suntanned arms and a lot of his back.

  And Ollie was a giant teddy bear.

  “Hey, did you hear Kevin shifted? Fox, just like Allie. Low told me he wasn’t in school today.”

  Ollie’s face softened at the mention of Allie. But then, it always had. Ever since they were kids.

  “Good.” He nodded. “That’s real good. She was worried about that. I’m sure Joe’s relieved, too.”

  “Yep.” Ignoring the sorrowful tinge to his eyes, Jena fluffed her hair and put her hands on her hips. “How do I look, boss?”

  He whistled. “If you weren’t like my sister, I’d hit on you. Between the band tonight and those jeans, we should both make out pretty good.”

  “Good to know.”

  Ollie rose from his desk and ushered her down the hall. “Hey, did Old Joe Quinn really run out of the diner buck-naked today?”

  “He shifted and ran when I handed him the bill. His favorite hat’s nailed behind the cash register.”

  Ollie chuckled and shook his head as they walked down the hall and into the bar that was growing louder by the minute.

  “He won’t forget that one.”

  “Neither will I.”

  Chapter Two

  The music was good. Loud, but good. The beer was cold, and Caleb Gilbert was just a little drunk. Not too much, but if he was going to make it back to his hotel in Indio that night, he’d better switch to coffee. Which was too bad, because the brunette behind the bar who’d been serving his drinks had grown a little more flirtatious with every beer. Or maybe that was wishful thinking.

  The band on the stage was better than he’d expected. The hard rock with a bluesy edge was just what he’d been looking for when he’d been out the night before. The hotel bar didn’t have much to offer, but the boys who’d been bragging about playing The Cave had invited him to come catch their show the next night. When he’d heard the name “Cambio Springs,” Caleb knew he couldn’t pass it up.

  “Another beer?” The brunette was smiling at him and he gave her his most charming, crooked grin. He hadn’t shaved that morning. Hadn’t thought he’d be trying to impress anyone, but then Caleb knew his looks weren’t what drove most women away after a few months. Looks had never been the problem. So he cocked his head at the waitress and rubbed a hand over the stubble on his jaw, then back through the curling black hair on his neck.

  “I’d love one. Love to keep running up my tab for you, too, but I gotta drive back to Indio tonight. How about some coffee?”

  “On the house.” She smiled. “And aren’t you responsible?”

  “Pathologically.”

  She raised her eyebrows at him before sliding away to grab a mug for coffee. She’d been drinking, too, but only a couple all night. And she bantered back and forth with the scary guy behind the bar with no hint of fear. He’d been listening to the band and watching her all night. It was the best entertainment he’d had in months.

  She was damn cute. Tall and lean. Long, sexy legs and nice hips that begged for grabbing. She was no girl, but then, he wasn’t exactly a kid, either. Caleb Gilbert had more than a few miles on him. Over five hundred according to the odometer he’d reset when he left Albuquerque. Taking the job as a police chief in the Mojave Desert wasn’t what he’d planned on, but plans change, especially when
life and family got messy.

  The brunette came back after arguing with a surlier customer down the bar. That had lasted all of about two seconds before the giant bartender—the owner, if he was guessing—stepped in. The woman put a cup of steaming coffee in front of him. Despite the fact that it wasn’t beer, it did smell fantastic.

  “Cream or sugar?”

  “Just black, thanks. Who is he?” Caleb nodded at the big guy. “Owner?”

  “Ollie? Yeah, his family’s had this place for years.”

  “And who are you?”

  She smiled and he blinked a little. Her smile was gorgeous. It made her eyes light up. Dark eyes. More than cute. When she smiled, she was beautiful. “I’m Jena.”

  “I’m Caleb. So, is Ollie your boyfriend? He seems pretty protective.”

  “Ollie?” She laughed. “No. No boyfriend. Ollie’s like a brother. A big, snarling one if I want him to be.”

  “Is that right? No boyfriend, huh? That’s hard to imagine.”

  “It wouldn’t be if you knew me.” She smiled again, and he let himself get his hopes up, just for a minute.

  Caleb glanced at her ring finger. No ring, not even the shadow of one. She hadn’t slipped it off for work. Not that he’d blame her if she did. A pretty, single girl was bound to get more tips with a crowd like this. The music kept pounding and he saw her head bobbing along.

  “You like the music?” he yelled.

  She shook her head. “Yeah, but that’s not really what you want to ask me.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “It’s not?”

  “Nope.” She leaned a little closer over the bar.

  “What did I want to ask you?”

  “If I want to dance.” Her dark eyes were lit up with mischief.

  He glanced at the owner, who was watching them—no, him—with suspicion. “I’d love to dance if your boss wouldn’t mind.”

  “He won’t. I haven’t taken a break all night.”

  “Then dance with me, Jena.”

  “You didn’t ask, Caleb.”

  Oh, he liked the way she said his name. Caleb stood and held out a hand. “Won’t you let me have this dance, Jena?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Jena untied her apron and stepped out from behind the bar, pointing to an imaginary watch on her wrist and mouthing “fifteen” at her boss while Caleb held out a hand.

  The band had just switched to something more mellow. He pulled her toward the dance floor where several other couples were already swaying and took her in his arms, placing one hand at her waist. Just right. He liked the curve of her hip under his rough hand. It felt… nice. Comfortable and hot at the same time. She was tall for a woman, five nine at least, and he barely had to look down at her to meet her eyes, which was nice for someone over six feet.

  “So, you’re from Indio?” she asked.

  “No.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to talk, but then, she was quick, too. And that was even nicer than the feel of her hand in his. Caleb liked smart women. The flirting was so much more fun.

  “Aren’t you the talkative one?”

  He gave her a sly grin. “Sometimes.”

  Jena shook her head. “I bet you barely have to talk to the girls with that smile, cowboy.”

  “Why ‘cowboy?’”

  “Boots and attitude. You can always tell a man by his boots. You’re not an office kind of guy. I can tell. I’d even bet you’ve got a hat hanging around somewhere.”

  He nodded. “You could say that.”

  “So, just passing through?”

  “You could say that, too.” At least for tonight. “And I left my hat in the car. My mom would skin me alive if I wore it inside.” She’d skin him alive for a lot of things lately.

  “Good. I’ve had a tempestuous relationship with hats today.”

  “Now that’s a statement that begs a story.”

  She shrugged and leaned a little closer. “Maybe, but it’s not one I feel like telling tonight.”

  Caleb pulled her a little closer. “What do you feel like doing tonight?” No way in the world could he be that lucky.

  A slow smile spread over Jena’s face. “Dancing.”

  “We’re already doing that.”

  “And maybe kissing a cute cowboy who’s passing through.”

  Well, well. He wasn’t going to complain about that. Caleb looked around the bar. “Hold on. Let me see if I can find one for you.”

  Jena laughed and pulled him away from the dance floor. The band had switched to something loud and pounding as the crowd rose to its feet. Caleb followed her as she pulled him down a corridor, teasing his hands along the sliver of skin at her waist as she pushed him past the restrooms and out the back door.

  He was laughing. She was laughing. Then suddenly, she put her hands over her face and shook her head. “What am I doing?” she groaned. “I don’t do this kind of thing.”

  But she was still smiling, so Caleb grabbed her hands away from her face and pulled her in front of him, leaning against the back wall of the bar as the half-moon shone down on them.

  “Hey,” he said. “There’s no kind of thing. No pressure. You’re fun, Jena, and I don’t expect anything. Dancing with you was the highlight of the night. And the band was getting kind of loud. If we just hang out here and talk, that’s fine by me.” He really did want to kiss her, though. He’d bet a month of the meager police chief’s salary he’d agreed to that she was a great kisser.

  She was shaking her head. “I’m being silly.”

  “So keep being silly.” He drew her closer, looping a finger through the waistband of those ought-to-be-illegal jeans. He spread his legs and leaned back until they were almost eye-to-eye. “Kiss a lonely cowboy.”

  Jena started to smile. “You don’t have a hat.”

  “It’s all about the boots, remember?” He slowly drew her in. Her eyes weren’t telling him to stop. Neither were her hands, which had come to rest on his shoulders. “Boots and attitude?”

  She nodded, tilting her face up to his. “You got it.”

  “Yeah. I do.” He took one finger and lifted her chin, angling his lips down over hers.

  Sweet and hot. He almost groaned at the taste. She’d been drinking a raspberry wheat beer, and the flavor still lingered on her lips. They were soft and met his eagerly. He heard a low purr in her throat and pulled her closer; then it was all her.

  She curled into him, her hands moving from his shoulders, down his chest, then around his waist. She hugged him tight and Caleb forced his hands to rest on the small of her back. His fingers teased under the waistband of her jeans, but that was as far as he’d let himself go. It was enough.

  Jena was on fire. Kissing and nipping at his lips as he dove deeper into one of the hottest kisses he’d had… ever. Her mouth opened to his and their tongues danced together to the harder rhythm that pounded out the walls of the old roadhouse.

  When was the last time he’d let himself enjoy a kiss like this? Jena tugged at his hair and he stopped thinking, losing himself in the feel of her hands digging into his back, her thighs resting against his, and her lips doing incredible things to his mouth.

  She pulled back and her teeth nipped at the stubble along his chin. Suddenly, he was glad he hadn’t shaved. She seemed to like the feel of the rough skin against hers. He felt her hand trail from his neck, along his collarbone, and up to his jaw, where she rubbed her fingers against his chin and made that damn purring sound again. If he had his phone out, he’d record it; it was so sexy.

  “You’re just passing through, right?” she whispered in his ear.

  Should he tell her? The responsible part of him said yes, but then she might stop kissing him.

  Caleb murmured, “Something like that.” Then he dove back in.

  Matt Marquez was exactly what Caleb had expected from a small town mayor. He was friendly in an “aw-shucks” kind of way. He had a starched polo shirt and a pair of khakis from JC Penney. His secretary was old enough to
be his mother and he had a picture of a beautiful blonde with three small girls displayed prominently on his desk.

  Mayor Matt saw Caleb examining the photograph with bleary eyes. “My wife, Missy. And our three girls. We’re having a boy next month.”

  Matt and Missy? Caleb cleared his throat. “Congratulations.”

  “Are you? Married, I mean. You didn’t mention…”

  Caleb shook his head, pushing down the instinctive bitterness. “Divorced. No kids.” And hadn’t that been the sticking point? “It was years ago. We were young.”

  Matt nodded. “Missy and I were high school sweethearts. It’s a small town.”

  Well, that much had been obvious on the drive in. After a late morning filled with very distracting dreams about a certain brunette, he’d driven up from Indio for his meeting with the mayor of Cambio Springs. After the meeting, he was being introduced at some kind of town hall meeting that night. It seemed unusual to him, but then, he had little experience with small-town police procedures. He wasn’t even sure where he was going to be working. Caleb had yet to see a police station anywhere near Main Street.

  “I’d just like to thank you again for taking this job.” Matt was smiling nervously. “Honestly, someone with your credentials—”

  “It’s nothing. Really. I was looking for a change.”

  “Still…” Matt laughed. “I mean, state police commendations. Special task force experience…” Matt frowned. “Can I ask why you wanted to leave Albuquerque for a small town in the middle of the desert?”

  Caleb let the stony expression he’d perfected over twelve years of police work slide over his face. “I told you. I was looking for a change.”

  Matt, seeing that the subject was off limits, quickly backtracked. “Well, we’re lucky to have you! The most likely crimes you’ll see around here are the occasional vandalism charge and drunk driving.”

  “And domestics, of course. In my experience, those are everywhere.”