Ghosts of July (Shamans of the Divide, Book 1)

Chapter Fourteen

The bleating of the alarm clock shocked me out of a sound sleep and I found myself tangled in bed sheets and blankets as I hopped on one leg to hit the snooze button. I blinked at the bright red numbers and rubbed my eyes. Five in the morning. Awful. Renn had left just a few short hours ago and would be back here to pick me up. We had a long drive ahead of us.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous in those last fifteen minutes before six a.m. He'd already stood me up in fantastic fashion. What was to stop him from doing it again after waking me up this early? I'd be the ultimate fool.

Renn had pity on me and I heard his bike coming up the driveway right on time. Stepping off his bike, he pulled the helmet free from his head and placed it on the motorcycle's seat.

"Bad news," he said and I braced for the worst. Hannah called last night? She's crying again? I could only imagine what his bad news was.

"It's supposed to rain this afternoon."

That was it? I could handle rain.

"So?"

He gave me a funny look and motioned to his motorcycle. Duh.

"Oh," I said, making the connection. "Bikes, rain, no bueno."

Renn smiled.

"Slow off the blocks in the morning, Sheriff?" He was teasing me and it was a great way to start the morning.

"We can take Roberta."

As soon as I announced to him that I'd named my car Roberta, I winced. Renn didn't miss it and actually laughed at me.

"You named your car Roberta? Not Princess? Or Duchess?"

I gave him a pathetic shrug.

"I'm not much of a princess girl," I said. "And she's very much a Roberta. Middle aged. Sturdy. Kind of temperamental. And really good at driving through a shower."

"Pretty sure I'm going to like Roberta," Renn said walking to the passenger's side. When he reached for the handle, I blanched and yelled for him to stop. His hand froze inches from the door and he looked at me like I'd grown a second head.

"I need one second before you get in!"

"That's fine, I'm going to move my bike to a clearing right over there," he said and pointed toward the woods next to the Tillmans. Good idea.

I raced through the driver's side door and began stuffing papers and Dr Pepper cans and bottles of all shapes, sizes and level of decomposition into a reusable shopping bag I stole from Camille.

It was amazing how much crap I could fit on the floor of my car.

"Sorry," I apologized as I motioned for him to get in. I ran the bag of trash inside and put it on the counter. I'd take care of it when we got back. I left Nana a note telling her I was heading out to a friend's ranch north of town and that I might be back late. I made a mental note to call her later when we were on the road. Hopefully, she was sleeping on that cot in her office and not still counting bags of salted peanuts. I searched the house one more time and put food in the bowl for Muffin. She was still asleep in Nana's bed, the lazy freeloader. She'd let herself out through the doggie door when she got around to it.

With the house locked and my backpack on, I did a final check for everything vital. Keys. Broken phone. Travel mug. Gorgeous passenger.

Check, check, check and double check.

"Your car smells like coffee."

I pulled the seatbelt across my shoulder and clicked.

"When Nana gave it to me, it smelled like Fritos. I think it's an improvement. And it's Dr Pepper, for your information. I don't drink coffee."