Page 11 of Wind Called

Which made absolutely no sense at all. She wasn’t theprimaor one of the elders, just a minor witch with a minor magical talent. There was no reason in the world why Marc’s dream would have singled her out amongst all the other witches and warlocks in the McAllister clan.

Maybe she should have given him her number.

No, that was silly. He’d come up to the Verde Valley on some kind of fact-finding mission, but now he’d realized there wasn’t anything to find, he’d head back to Tucson and that would be the end of it.

Besides, he knew where she worked, and therefore knew where to find her.

Except she wasn’t working today…and wouldn’t be back at Sedona Vines until Tuesday at noon.

Hmm.

No, she would not act all desperate and reach out to Tricia McAllister to see if she could get her grandson’s phone number. She’d finish her chores and then put her feet up for a while, maybe watch TV or read a book, and she’d put Marc Trujillo out of her mind.

Good plan. Too bad the more Bellamy tried not to think about him, the more he seemed to invade her thoughts — the impossibly long eyelashes that framed his deep brown eyes, the faint scruff of dark stubble on his fine chin…the way he made a pair of faded Levi’s look absolutely sinful.

Great. Just great.

She’d been sitting in the living room with a book open on her tablet, since she’d had the idea that reading might be a better way of distracting herself rather than trying to watch a show on the enormous hundred-inch TV that took up most of one wall. However, it seemed as if the more she tried to focus on the words on the electronic page before her, the more her thoughts strayed to the patio at Sedona Vines and the man who’d sat across from her at a table there.

Clearly, sheer willpower was failing her now.

She set the tablet down on the coffee table and tried to remember where Bree was playing this afternoon. Maybe it would be better to get out and think about something other than Marc Trujillo.

Unfortunately, although her friend had mentioned her schedule a few days earlier, it had completely slipped Bellamy’s mind, what with getting situated at the ranch…and having Marc show up at the wine bar.

No biggie, though. It would be easy enough to check Bree’s social media. She was always careful to keep it updated, mainly because she had a set of fans who liked to follow her from venue to venue, and posting her various gigs on Facebook and Instagram and TikTok was easier than trying to maintain a real website.

Bellamy reached for her tablet and took a peek at Instagram. Sure enough, Bree would be playing at Tantrum Wines in Cottonwood starting at four. Only an hour from now, so Bellamy thought she should be able to keep herself from climbing the walls in the interim…especially since it would take her about twenty-five minutes of that hour just to drive over there.

And if she should just happen to bump into Marc Trujillo once she was at the winery….

Not going to happen,she told herself.There are at least seven tasting rooms over there, so the chances of him being at Tantrum are pretty low.

If he’d even hung around at all. She thought it very possible that he’d already packed it in and headed back to Tucson, since she hadn’t given him any useful information and there didn’t seem to be much point to him staying in the Verde Valley. Besides, tomorrow was Monday, and she assumed he would have to be back at work.

Or maybe not. He hadn’t mentioned anything about what he did for a living, but a high proportion of witches and warlocks owned their own businesses, just because it was easier that way. It was also possible that he lived off the stipend he got from the de la Paz clan and didn’t work at all. Bellamy didn’t have a clear idea as to exactly how much they paid, but they were a large and prosperous family, and probably allotted more to the family stipends than the McAllisters did.

You’re just going to hang out and watch your friend play,she told herself.It’s something you’ve done a hundred times before. Even if by some miracle you do bump into Marc, no one’s going to think you’re stalking him.

At least, she hoped not.

Marc had texted his grandmother in the early afternoon, well after lunch so she wouldn’t think he was angling for another free meal. He’d slept in much later than expected, not that big a deal since he’d booked the room for three nights. Maybe he wouldn’t see any reason to stay here that long, but in the meantime, it was nice to know that he didn’t have to rush to get out of Cottonwood.

Tricia, of course, had been happy to see him again — although once he described the dream he’d had of Bellamy, his grandmother’s welcoming smile faded immediately.

“You saw a safe in your dream?” she asked, and he nodded, then reached for the glass of iced tea she’d poured him just a few minutes earlier.

“Yes,” he said, then took a sip of tea. “It was sitting in the courtyard of the house I dreamed about. I think the home was supposed to represent the place where Bellamy is staying right now, but obviously, I’ve never seen it, so I have no idea whether my dream was accurate or not. But the safe was blocking my way when I tried to follow her into the house.”

For a moment, his grandmother didn’t say anything, only sat there with a frown creasing her brow and her fingers wrapped around the glass, now sweating slightly, that she held.

“And she didn’t mention it to you when you spoke,” she said.

Now it was Marc’s turn to frown. “So…the safe is a real thing?” he asked. “Not just some kind of metaphor?”

Again, his grandmother was silent while a couple of seconds ticked past, as if she was weighing exactly how she should reply. But then she seemed to come to some sort of decision, because she released a breath and set her glass of iced tea down on the coaster in front of her.

“Oh, it’s real,” she said. “It contains an extremely valuable artifact, an amulet that Devynn Rowe and Seth McAllister brought back from the past. They encountered a warlock using it to enhance his magic — he was a performer in some kind of traveling variety troupe.”

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