Once A Ranger. Carrie Weaver

the light, as if they were undersea creatures. It had to be an optical illusion.

      “I haven’t seen too much handblown glass, but even I can tell his work is special.”

      “Yes.” Linda fairly beamed. “You’ll be even more amazed when you see all the work that goes into a piece. But Garth makes it seem effortless.”

      “I’ll have to come back and look more closely another time.”

      “Please feel free. The hours are posted near the front door. There are also several pieces for sale in the gift shop.”

      The temperature rose at least ten degrees when they walked outside. Two large kilns were situated on a detached, covered patio, the roof and poles of which were made of some sort of metal. It was a strictly utilitarian area, in contrast to the display inside.

      Kat recognized Garth from meeting him earlier, when he’d pointed out the hawk to her. The artist was perched on a tall metal stool in the center of the courtyard. He wore faded jeans and a long-sleeved chambray shirt.

      To her right was an assortment of metal chairs arranged to make an impromptu viewing area, like some ragged, independent theater production.

      “Go ahead and sit down,” Linda directed, pointing. “There’s a chair over there.”

      Kat stifled a groan. She might have known, the only seat left in the house would be right next to Tony. Could this evening get any better?

      She squeezed by several people she didn’t know to get to the seat.

      But Tony didn’t even seem to notice, he was so focused on Garth.

      TONY WAS BARELY AWARE of Kat sliding into the seat next to him. He’d been refining a short-term plan for his investigation while watching the glass artist work his magic.

      Sterling and Lola had arrived a few moments ago. Lorraine had saved only one seat for her sister, so Will had been relegated to sitting next to the newlyweds. If he was irritated, he didn’t show it. He came across as a laid-back, genuine kind of guy.

      Except Tony knew better.

      He’d decided against breaking into Sterling’s casita unless there was no other option. Becoming buddies with the con man seemed his best bet for gaining information and staying on the right side of the law. And the law was still important to him.

      Garth’s demonstration interrupted his thoughts, as the artist explained the variables in temperature, air pressure and materials. Tony soon realized why each piece was unique.

      It was fascinating to watch the man twirl molten glass on a long tube while his twenty-something male assistant blew into the other end of the tube. Before Tony’s eyes, a vaselike shape emerged, but not apparently to Garth’s satisfaction.

      He opened the door to the kiln and placed the vase, tube still attached, inside, rotating it skillfully. Seconds later, he withdrew it and resumed the process.

      “Amazing,” Tony murmured.

      “Not nearly as amazing as your ego.” Kat shifted, crossing her arms over her chest.

      “What’s my ego got to do with it?” He didn’t look her way. The glass cooled so quickly Garth had to work at a rapid pace.

      “How dare you call me a bitch,” she whispered.

      “I didn’t call you that.”

      “You might as well have. Prickly is the same thing.”

      He risked a glance in her direction. He’d learned to recognize a storm brewing as a kid, when his normally smiling mother had worn a similarly tight expression. Usually because she was pissed at his dad, but would snap at Tony for leaving the milk on the counter or tracking in mud. He didn’t mess with her when she was in that state. “You aren’t really upset about that, are you? There’s something else.”

      “Of course not.”

      He sighed, frustrated that she wouldn’t own up, but added, “You may be right.” That was the only helpful phrase he’d picked up in counseling.

      Kat snorted. But at least she was quiet after that.

      Still, he felt as if he’d failed some important test. Kind of like retiring from the Rangers at Corrine’s request and being served with divorce papers a month later. He’d done what she’d asked, sacrificed a career he’d loved, but it still hadn’t been enough.

      “Mr. Birmingham,” Garth asked, “what’s your favorite color?”

      The young husband, who had finally joined the group, managed to stop kissing his blond bride long enough to reply, “Blue.”

      “Ah, I can see that. Your wife has blue eyes.”

      She giggled.

      The groom raised her hand to his lips and kissed her palm, adoration smoldering in his eyes.

      Kat made a strangled noise.

      “What’s wrong now?” Tony whispered.

      “How can they be so young and so in love?”

      He shrugged. “We all were, once….”

      Garth did his thing with the molten glass while everyone watched.

      But despite Kat’s relative silence, Tony had a hard time concentrating, his attention drawn by Sterling and the need to figure out the man’s next move. Was Lola his target? How would he manage to separate her from not only her sister, but her trust fund?

      “A gift for you, from the staff at Phoenix Rising.” Garth presented the newlyweds with two beautiful champagne glasses in swirls of blue layered upon clear glass.

      Impressed and clearly touched, the pair thanked Garth. A few minutes later, they ducked out hand-in-hand. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to realize they would fall back into bed the minute they arrived at their casita….

      Kat bumped Tony in the arm as she shifted in her seat.

      “Do you ever sit still?” he asked, irritated that the newlyweds made him nostalgic.

      “I can sit still fine when I enjoy the company.” Her sniff told him she wasn’t likely to forget his prickly remark.

      WHEN KAT ARRIVED in the dining room for breakfast the next morning, she scanned the room and found Tony’s dark presence at a table on the left. So she swerved right.

      Even though the other half of the large room had been closed off by a temporary divider, she felt conspicuous and exposed. It appeared that far fewer people showed up for breakfast than for dinner.