Page 26 of The Healer

“It’s a standing event, and everyone treats it as an off day.” Dane shrugged. “As long as they get their work done, I don’t care either way.” He sucked in a deep breath that expanded his chest like a puffed-up pigeon. “As the mayor, I have to show my face, of course.”

“Oh, good morning, Ilona. Coffee?” Harriet hurried into the dining room carrying a pot of coffee.

Ilona nodded, her mouth too full to talk. Within seconds, she was stirring in sugar and cream. She groaned after a sip of the strong, smoky heat layering her tongue. “Nectar.” After four strips of bacon, a slice of toasted ciabatta smeared with fresh butter and homemade marmalade, she was replete. But there was space for another coffee.

“That was scrumptious, as always, Harriet.” Dane rubbed his flat stomach through his dark-blue T-shirt, flashing his mocha skin rippling with muscle. Satisfaction was in the bright smile he bestowed on the older woman.

“I’ll make more for Rhys.” She waved her hand over the leftovers.

“And whatever he doesn’t eat, just pop in the warmer. Ilona’s nibbled like a freaking bird. I expect her Coedwig appetite to kick in soon.” Dane pushed away from the table to rise. “We’ll leave in five minutes?” He arched a brow at Ilona’s empty mug then at her ballet flats. “I want to find Amos before the lunchtime crowd. Hopefully, we’ll catch him in a good mood.”

Fair enough since she had slept in. “Thank you for breakfast, Harriet.”

Upstairs, Ilona stared at her nibbled-on boot from last night. Not finding where the bear’s teeth had scoured the leather, she sat on the bed to don socks then boots. After brushing her teeth, she tugged on a thick fleece-lined jacket, fluffed her hair over the collar and grabbed the black box.

Dane waited for her at the front door, wearing a massive parka in hunter green that would have drowned her. His short hair curled over the collar, implying it needed a trim. It had the look of fresh snow. “Ready?”

She took a deep breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Gloves? A scarf?”

She groaned, darting up the stairs to grab them. Returning to him, she tucked the box under her arm as she peeled the gloves on, with the scarf looped around her neck. He captured the ends and tried to strangle her, flicking it a few times around her until she felt like a giraffe with a goiter.

“If I fall, it’s on you.” Her scarf muffled her words and obscured her vision.

Opening the front door blasted a gust of icy wind into her. She gasped, dipping her nose into the scarf.

“Stay close to me. I’ll warm you.”

Her cheeks caught on fire at the suggested proximity. She fiddled with her zipper, tilting her face away hoping to hide her scar. But when he waited for her response, she scrambled for one. “That’s the best pick up line I’ve heard to date.”

He blinked at her. So, she huddled behind his great bulk, which shielded her enough for her to close the door behind them.

He laughed and loped ahead, leaving her at the mercy of the elements. The sky was a pale turquoise, the snow blinding against the graveled tarmac and sludge. He held the door open on his red SUV. She hurried to dip under his arm and slide in. Warmth was instant when he shut the door, cutting off the chilling wind. She clamped the box between her denim-encased knees to buckle up.

He slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

“Seatbelt.” She wiggled her fingers, asking him to tug it across, so she could buckle him in.

“Not necessary, Mom. Tuesdays is a minute away.”

Ilona stilled, tormented by the memories of the accident. It was silly to wonder if not wearing their seatbelts would have saved them. She bit her inner cheek to keep the tears at bay.

Dane stared at her. “Care to talk about it?” The gentleness in his deep baritone cut through the silence between them.

“No, but thanks.”

“I’ll listen when you’re ready.” He accelerated out of the parking spot and turned the SUV around. His tires crunched as they found traction.

The townsfolk meandered on the sidewalks like it wasn’t below freezing. Children played in the snow, building animal-shaped snowmen and making snow angels. The many cars parked outside Mo’s Diner and Jameson’s Mercantile said they did good business. Coedwig was the image of a bustling town, a charming place to raise children. Pine and tradition scented the air, implying generation after generation had lived here.

Within minutes, Dane parked outside a single-story log cabin with neon signage on its fascia boards—the bar she had seen when she had driven into town. Tuesdays was open and crowded if she judged the packed parking lot.

“Shit,” Dane muttered. “Lunchtime’s early.”

She climbed out before Dane could open the door for her. Now that she was here, she twitched with barely restrained energy. What would she do if Amos hated her on sight? She sighed, castigating herself for her doubts and silly fears. If her dear old grandfather didn’t want her, that was fine too. She would return to Fenneg having lost nothing.

She raised her chin, uncaring that the action allowed the wind access to her throat. With a yank of the scarf, she tossed it on the seat then closed the car door. Time to face this task, to finish it, and head home.

---