The Lost Sheenan's Bride (Taming of the Sheenans Book 6) Read Online Free Page A

in the foothills since last spring and, from the sound of it, Troy and Cormac no longer wanted Shane there.
    Were they evicting him? Or was something else happening? They’d clearly come to Kara for legal advice so whatever it was, it had to be serious.
    Jet knew it was none of her business but she couldn’t help worrying. The Sheenans had welcomed her into their family six weeks ago and they’d gone out of their way to include her in their Sunday dinners, special occasions, and family birthdays. If something had happened, she wanted to know, especially if there was something she could do to help.
    But when Jet emerged from her room a half hour later to make dinner, Troy and Cormac were gone, and Kara was already in her bedroom, door closed, and didn’t come out for the rest of the evening.
    The old Sheenan homestead was quiet at night. But not empty.
    Dillon Sheenan had warned him there was a spirit hanging around the place, and Shane had smiled grimly, wondering if the youngest Sheenan brother had been jesting, but after nine months at the ranch, living in the family ranch house, Shane had come to believe.
    But Dillon had been wrong about one thing.
    There wasn’t one spirit here. There were several, although the dominant energy was feminine and nonthreatening. But even nonthreatening, Catherine Sheenan made herself known, determined to connect with him.
    Usually Shane ignored her. He told himself he wasn’t punishing her, but rather, he didn’t know what to do with her. He told himself he wasn’t angry with her, or his biological father, but that wasn’t true. He was angry. He was deeply resentful as well.
    Never mind hurt.
    Maybe that was why his mother’s ghost hovered around him.
    Maybe that was why tonight she wouldn’t leave him alone. He’d felt her from the moment he entered the kitchen to make dinner. She was weight and energy in the kitchen, filling the emptiness as if she were still alive and in human form.
    “Go away, Catherine,” he said, turning the heat off from under the cast iron skillet before plating his steak. “Not in the mood.”
    He carried his dinner—steak and a microwaved potato—to the family room, the only room with a TV, and dropped onto the old couch and turned the television on. He’d paid to have cable put into the house when he moved in last spring. He wasn’t a big television guy but after two weeks of uneasy silence, two weeks of being watched by Catherine and friends, he decided cable was needed. And it had helped. It helped now.
    Shane ate in front of the TV, flipping through channels, watching first David Muir cover the news, and then a recorded episode of Last Week with John Oliver, and then turned the TV off, giving up on entertainment for the night.
    In the kitchen, he washed his dishes and the hair on his nape rose, followed by a ripple down his spine. She was here.
    Watching.
    Waiting.
    But waiting for what? For him to acknowledge her? He’d done that.
    Waiting for him to forgive her?
    He didn’t think he could do that.
    Exasperated, he turned the water off, reached for a dish towel, and dried his hands. “Yes, Catherine?”
    Silence greeted him. The silence felt unbearably sad.
    His chest tightened. He swallowed hard. “Don’t blame me,” he muttered, tossing the now damp towel onto the counter. “You were the one that left me. Not the other way around.”
    But as he took the stairs to his bedroom, he could taste tears. Tears he never shed. He’d waited years for her to come back. She’d promised she’d come back and get him.
    She never did.
    Jet woke up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and it got her out of bed immediately. Stepping into slippers, Jet pulled a sweatshirt over her flannel pajamas and headed to the kitchen where Kara was pouring herself a cup of coffee.
    Jet nodded gratefully when Kara gestured to the pot. “Would love some,” she answered, smothering a yawn.
    “You’re up early,” Kara said, handing Jet a steaming