Chapter One

ERIN

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* * *

“Hurry up, Erin!” Pippa hollered.

My sister was all the way over on the porch of the main house, but she had the lungs of an opera singer, as her father liked to say. That, and we three sisters — Pippa, Abby, and I — had always been tuned in to one another in a way the laws of physics couldn’t explain.

“Coming,” I murmured, though I didn’t budge. The sunset was too spectacular to miss.

Well, every sunset in Sedona was a miracle of color and light, but this one was especially bold. Streaks of orange, pink, and yellow split the sky and made the rocky red landscape glow.

I closed my eyes and took deep, deliberate breaths, soaking in the peace. A trick my dad had taught me at a young age when it was abundantly clear I hadn’t inherited his easygoing nature.

Mind over matter, he liked to say. That and, It’s the journey, not the destination.

Easy to say for a guy who roamed the West with a motorcycle gang — er, club.

The first stars winked just like my dad’s eyes, telling me, One thing at a time. You’ll reach your dreams…eventually.

My stomach rumbled, hinting that dinner should be first on my list. Still, I stood there, hugging myself against the cold. The stars were so bright and clear on our ranch, miles away from the nearest paved road.

Roscoe, our speckled Australian shepherd, leaned against my legs, scanning the desert for a jackrabbit to chase. Nothing so far, though, just the dry winter breeze that made the scrub whisper and sway. A lone wren trilled a cheery tune, while a chorus of crickets hummed in the background.

As serene as it all was, a sense of unease prickled my soul. As if trouble was creeping up from around the corner, and chaos was about to erupt.

Roscoe didn’t seem concerned, though. Should I be?

I sniffed the air again, then turned to the base of the cliff, my favorite sunset lookout point. The rocky red surface glowed back at the sun in a beauty contest that could only end in a tie. One patch of the cliff — aligned with the summer and winter solstices, or so legend claimed — was full of petroglyphs etched by ancient artists.

Some of the rock carvings were enigmatic squiggles. Others were deer. A few resembled turtles, and another was a centipede, crawling across the same inch of rock for all eternity. Pippa always claimed to see a penis, but I didn’t. Just squares, stick figures, and lighting bolts. It was all a jumble, but one symbol stood out to me — the one in the middle, exactly at the height of my heart.

It was a spiral, or rather, a spinning galaxy, with two loose ends that spun around in a tight design.

The one you weren’t supposed to touch.

Actually, you weren’t supposed to touch any of the petroglyphs, but especially not that one.

So, of course, as a kid, I had.

One touch. Once. Never again.

I shivered as electricity tingled through my arms. Or was that just in my memory?

Roscoe laid his ears back as I inched my hand between the sun’s last rays and the spiral. I felt nothing…nothing…

Then, wham! My hand jerked back, blasted by an invisible force. I snatched it away, staring at the cliff.

Roscoe whimpered and backed away.

I wiggled my fingers, then tried again.

Whoosh! The invisible jet slammed my hand back.

Roscoe growled and paced nervously.

“Come on, Erin!” Pippa called in the distance. “Time to go!”

A car door slammed, and an engine revved in a not-so-subtle hint.

“Roscoe! Time to come in.” Pippa whistled.

He whimpered once more, then shot off.

“Erin! Come on, already!” my sister yelled.

I stared at the spiral a minute longer, then stepped away.

“Coming,” I murmured, crunching over frosty ground on the way back home.

* * *

“One Bitterroot IPA, one Mile High Lite, and an iced tea.” The waiter winked, delivering drinks and nachos. “Let me know if you need anything else, ladies.”

Pippa held her glass up to him, flirting back. “We will.” Then she looked around the bar and muttered, “Well, that’s not encouraging.”

Her sigh of disappointment hinted at bad news. I looked around then and shut my eyes, reminding myself to keep things in perspective. As long as bad didn’t involve vampires, demons, or my mother popping in for a surprise visit, I could cope.

“What?” Abby asked.

“Not one halfway attractive guy here to dance with tonight,” Pippa lamented.

I snorted. Not a priority. And anyway, we were treating ourselves to a night out for a totally different reason.

I raised my glass. “All right, already. Time to toast. Happy birthday, Mom.”

“Wherever you are.” Abby, my younger sister, sighed.

Pippa chuckled as we all touched glasses. “What do you think she’s up to right now?”

I preferred not to speculate, but Pippa loved letting her imagination rip.

“I bet she’s celebrating in a fancy condo in Tahoe.”

“With a view of the slopes,” I added.

“And a glass of wine that cost more than our three drinks combined,” Abby chimed in.

“In a hot tub,” Pippa added with a laugh.

“With a man,” I sighed.

Pippa clinked heartily. Abby and I, less so.

“Go, Mom,” Pippa cheered, gulped her drink, and scooped a huge portion of guacamole with a chip.

I took a smaller helping with a lot less gusto, then sighed.

“What’s wrong with her?” Pippa asked Abby as if I wasn’t right there.

Abby shrugged then looked at me. “Let me guess. You still didn’t get that hour you need.”

I jutted my jaw, silently shaking my head.

“One lousy flight,” Abby commiserated. “One little hour. That’s all she needs.”

Pippa halted her next chip halfway to her mouth. “You still don’t have that last hour?”

“Don’t rub it in,” Abby hissed.

I stared silently into my drink.

“I’m not rubbing it in,” Pippa insisted. “I just don’t get it. You earned your pilot’s license ages ago, and you’ve been up in balloons loads of times since.”

“It’s not the license,” Abby explained. “It’s the insurance company. They only cover commercial pilots with 250 hours flying time.”

I looked at her, surprised. Whenever I talked to Abby, I had a feeling she wasn’t paying attention…much like our mom. But, wow. She’d actually been listening.

“Well, that sucks,” Pippa declared. “I mean, seriously. One hour. Couldn’t your boss just round up and sign off on your logbook?”

I gave her a firm look, but Pippa wasn’t swayed. “Seriously. Let’s hunt him down right now and talk some sense into him.” She started to stand.

“We ordered burgers, remember?” Abby pointed out.

Pippa plopped back down. “Right. After the burgers, then.”

Good old Pippa, always getting riled up by a good cause — then getting sidetracked by something else.

“And if that doesn’t work, we could get your dad to convince him.” She punched one hand into the other, hinting at how that convincing might go.

I shook my head. “Uh, no. My boss is right to do things by the books. Thanks for the sentiment, though.” I took a sip of beer, then added lamely, “Besides, my dad is four states away.”

My sisters cracked up, and Pippa tapped Abby’s arm. “We could call your dad. He’s as badass as Erin’s.”

Abby scowled. “We don’t need him.”

Her tone slammed a nail through that coffin and locked it away forever.

I winced at the word choice. Locked away… Her dad wasn’t back in jail, was he?

With Abby, it was better not to ask.

“Could you just go up as a paying guest?” Pippa tried. “Would that count?”

“Are you kidding?” Abby hooted. “Do you know how much those flights cost?”

I munched another chip, resigned to my fate. “I’ll get that hour, sooner or later.”

I managed a casual note, but in truth, I was getting more and more desperate. I needed a flight, and not just for insurance. What the ocean did to sailors, what mountains did to climbers, the sky did to me. I needed to feel the wind in my hair, on my skin, in my soul. All around me, in a way only possible from aloft.

“I know you will.” Pippa patted my arm the way she petted Roscoe. “Oh! Our burgers!”

Ah, to be Pippa, always ready to sweep the bad under a carpet of good cheer.

“Here you go, ladies.” The waiter was all smiles, especially for Pippa. “Three burgers.”

She was the youngest, cutest, and bubbliest of us three, and as such, a man-magnet. Abby, on the other hand, could chase a man away with a single, piercing scowl — except the roughest, toughest types drawn like moths to the flames tattooed on her arms.

I was the eldest sister. The most disciplined. The most practical — on the relative scale of a balloon pilot, a glass artist, and a blacksmith/part-time welder.

Sometimes, I felt we had nothing in common except our mother’s half of our genes. Other times, I felt my sisters knew me better than I knew myself.

Pippa mushed down her double cheeseburger and ate, smearing her face with ketchup. Abby snipped at hers in quick, decisive bites. She used to eat as if every meal might be her last — yes, parts of her childhood had been that tough — but her dining style had mellowed slightly since we’d all moved to the ranch permanently. As for me, I turned my plate this way and that, considering the best angle of attack. Then I spread my napkin in my lap and took my first bite.

We ate in silence, staring into the open fireplace in our corner of the bar rather than the football game on the big-screen TV.

The candle on our table danced and swayed. Behind me, I sensed the bar door open with a new customer. Pippa’s bright-blue eyes lit up, and she squeaked.

“Whoa. Stand aside, boys. I think we have a ten.”

A ten was the veggie burger I was currently savoring, which was where my focus remained. Pippa was always vigilant for a possible hookup. Abby and I were a little more reserved.

But the candle flickered, as did the fire in the hearth. And, huh. Something inside me quivered in the same way.

“Ooh, la la. Where did this guy come from?” Pippa gushed.

Abby scowled, then did a double take. “Not bad — if you like hair cut like that.”

“I like, I like!” Pippa chuckled.

I could already picture him. A tall, built, cowboy type. Maybe a tall, built, lumberjack type. Or a tall, built, athlete type…

Yes, there was a clear pattern when it came to Pippa’s man hunts.

I wasn’t convinced, but I did turn for a peek. And, oh.

Oh.

Wow.

I meant, er…not bad.

Mystery Man stood at the door. Strong jaw, I noticed. Strong shoulders. Heck, strong everything, all looming a couple of inches over the man closest to him. Brown hair curled to just under his ears, a shade darker than mine. His comfy, fleece-lined denim jacket sported a tear on one sleeve. The guy would have fit in perfectly with a construction crew — the kind that inspired Diet Coke ads.

Hollow, brownish-green eyes swept the scene before he stepped to the bar. Whoever he was, the guy moved like a cat. Or better yet, an assassin.

Pippa wiped her mouth, threw down her napkin, and stood. “I’ll be back, girls. I’ll be back.”

“You’d better,” Abby warned. “It’s all fun and games until the morning after.”

“Having a drink with a guy doesn’t mean I’m spending the night with him,” Pippa protested, sashaying away.

I believed her. Pippa liked to flirt, but I wasn’t aware of her really fooling around with anyone since breaking up with the love of her life. She claimed to be over him, but I doubted it.

Abby watched her go, frowning. “Ever worry she’s too much like Mom?”

I worried constantly — and not just about that. Ranch finances were just as high on my list. Our great-aunt had sold us the ranch for a song before moving to Palm Springs, but we struggled to keep the place up, what with taxes, maintenance, and routine operating costs. Developers kept knocking on our door, but we refused to sell.

Abby and I were hashing out ideas when Pippa returned and plopped into her chair. “Huh.”

“No luck?” I asked.

She shook her head, dumb struck.

Now, that was a first.

As was my strange sense of relief. Apparently, Pippa wasn’t Mystery Man’s type. So, who was?

As I peeked over at him, the candle flickered, just like that undefinable something inside me.