(Calahan Cowboys 08) The Cowboy Soldier's Sons by Tina Leonard Page B

brain into two complete halves. No doubt it was Kendall, calling to check on him. Sighing, Shaman pulled out his cell phone, not recognizing the number. “Yeah?”
    “Shaman?” a female said.
    “Yep,” he answered. “How can I help you?”
    “Shaman, it’s Tempest.”
    His eyes snapped open again. “Hi.”
    “I—I heard what happened. I’m so sorry.”
    Frowning, he said, “How’d you hear?”
    “Cat texted me. And then Kendall called to tell me.”
    He sat up, wincing as the wound pulled. “Wait. My niece and my sister both have your number?”
    “Yes. Of course Cat has my number. We’ve been talking to each other for months now. Don’t you remember she’s the reason I came back to Tempest in the first place?”
    “Yes, yes,” he said impatiently. “I know that. But—”
    “And Kendall probably got the number from Cat. Or from whomever she had to bribe to give it to her. You know your sister.”
    Shaman cleared his throat. “I think my question was more rhetorical. What I meant was, why does everyone have your number except me?”
    “You never asked,” Tempest said reasonably.
    He blinked. “I guess that’s true.”
    “But you have it now,” she continued. “Although I know that’s probably counterproductive to the status of our relationship.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “Well,” she said, “you never wanted a relationship. You made that clear. So you never asked for my number or anything.”
    “Now look here, Little Red Riding Hood,” he said, “you were the one who showed up with your picnic basket whenever you had the urge.”
    “I knew I’d never get you off the ranch,” Tempest said. “You’re kind of a hermit. You shocked me when you took me out. Anyway, how’s your head?”
    “My head is fine.” He didn’t want to talk about that. “Are you saying that you felt like I didn’t want you?”
    “I think you’re a loner, and if I wanted to bring you food, you’d let me.”
    “A little more than food, Cupertino,” Shaman said. “We should have talked more and—”
    “Dined less,” Tempest interjected.
    “I guess.” Shaman rubbed his face. “So listen, I’m glad you called. First, I want to congratulate you. The grapevine works this way, too, you know, and it’s let me know you’ve received some kind of awesome offer that’s going to kick your career into overdrive.”
    “We’ll see,” Tempest said. “I like the project.”
    “And, apparently,” Shaman said, ticking down his list, “you’re crazy about me.”
    “Did you hear that from the grapevine, too?”
    “Yes, I did.” It was a tiny fib. The grapevine said he was crazy about her. But there was no reason to give away all the house cards just yet. He wanted to see what she’d say first.
    “Funny,” Tempest said, “the town grapevine told me that you were walleyed nuts for me.”
    He grinned in the darkness, glad she couldn’t see him. “It’s a twisted vine.”
    “I guess so.”
    “So now that you’re calling me, still pursuing me,” Shaman said, “I have a proposal for you. It’s not a Hollywood contract type of proposal, but it’s one that might interest you.”
    “I consider all proposals and offers,” Tempest said.
    It was worth a shot. “About that baby Cat said you wanted.”
    The silence stretched out. “I might want a child one day.”
    “Mmm. And if you decide you do, I wouldn’t mind letting you try to have that baby with me.”
    “That’s nice to know, soldier.”
    “I thought you might think so. But here’s the hook—”
    “There’s always a hook with you.”
    “You have to marry me first. Then we’d practice. I’m not saying I want to get married,” Shaman said. “I’m just saying that if you decide the bright lights aren’t what you want, and that you want to see if you can handle the heat back here in Tempest, maybe I’ll let you get in bed with me again, with that intent in mind.”
    “Well, that is an offer I’ll have to ponder,” Tempest