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“Good night,” she said in a sultry purr.
“Oh! Are you having a sleepover?” Claire clapped. “Can I come?”
Abby’s dark look saidHell no,a sentiment Erin expressed a little more diplomatically.
“Not this time, sweetie. Nash gets the couch. I get the bed.” That point was aimed squarely at Pippa and her smirk. “So, my little house will be pretty full.”
“When I do sleepovers, we all pile into one bed. It’s fun,” Claire said.
Pippa chortled. I kept my expression perfectly neutral.
Erin hid a smile. “I promise that you, Pippa, and I will have a sleepover soon.”
“Maybe we can invite Grandpa and Grandpa,” Claire said.
So, there were a lucky few men who were welcome on the ranch.
Erin waved, and I followed her outside, where the cold night snatched us away from the cozy confines of the house. It was nice, though — all those stars, all that space. Another reason this ranch was so special. The lights of Sedona were a faint glow inthe distance, but the only man-made sound was the crunch of our boots over frosty ground.
Two more dogs rushed up to join us for part of the walk, then ran to the barn when Pippa called out to them. “Calvin! Hobbes!”
I looked at Erin, and she shrugged. “Claire’s a fan of the cartoon. Abby too. Well, all of us, actually.”
It was easy to picture her, Pippa, or Abby reading to Claire before tucking her in for the night. Family was big for these sisters, even if the structure of theirs was a little unique.
“Has this ranch been in your family a long time?” I asked quietly.
Erin nodded. “Seven generations. It was my aunt’s. Well, great-aunt.” A second or two went by before Erin quietly added, “We three spent every summer here. If it weren’t for my aunt, I would hardly know Pippa or Abby.”
I didn’t ask, but I did wonder. How could three sisters not know one another?
Erin must have picked up on that, because she explained. “We each grew up with our dads. Well, Pippa and I did. Abby grew up with her other relatives.”
Abby’s relatives were different from Erin’s? Did that mean three different fathers?
Wow. And I thought my family was a little mixed up.
“I see,” I said, though I didn’t.
Erin laughed, not all too humorously. “Nice of you not to ask about my mother.”
I shrugged. In truth, I’d been burning to ask. “You said it wasn’t relevant.”
I almost missed her whispered, “I’m starting to think it might be.”
I kept my lips sealed, thinking about the candles at dinner…the vortex…the microburst at the food court…
Erin led me around a patch of prickly pear and beyond the paddock, heading toward the dim outline of her cabin.
Out of nowhere, she heaved a deep, conflicted sigh. “My mom is a wanderer. A renegade. A heartbreaker.”
Yes, I suppose she would have to be to leave three daughters behind with three different fathers. Then again, some men did the same and weren’t judged half as harshly.
“My great-aunt said that came from the other side of the family,” Erin added.
“The witch side?” I murmured.
Erin shook her head. “No. The dragon shifter side.”
