Page 50 of The Healer

“Rebel resupplied them this morning, so I suppose I’m just being a worrywart. Maybe this time you can finish your pie.” Mo shoved a pencil behind her ear, balancing it on top of the one already there. It pushed her graying hair out in a wild tuft.

“Got any coffee? It’s been one hell of a day.”

She nodded and gestured out the window. “That buck planning on coming in or what?”

Ilona didn’t look and forced a shrug. “It’s your guess.”

When Mo dashed into the kitchen, Ilona pinched the bridge of her nose. She hadn’t lied about her day. The temptation to drop her head in her hands was strong. She just wanted to crawl into bed, read her latest guilty pleasure, and accept a life of loneliness as her fate.

As if out of the woodwork, the town’s men and women had flooded the clinic with all manner of pseudo-symptoms, all leading up to a come-on or dinner invitation.

Including Dane, who’d arrogantly assumed she would dine with him. She’d put paid to that suggestion. Despite repeating rejections, he’d persisted. With a snort at the memory of his shocked expression when she’d pretended to knee him in the groin, she rubbed her eyes. She’d driven to Lover’s Point more times than yesterday in a desperate attempt to extract herself from whatever scene was thrust upon her. The children…or cubs she saw were a godsend. They hadn’t had hidden agendas. Neither had their parents.

None of the offers could compare to the bear of a man sitting in the SUV outside Mo’s Diner. That same gorgeous man strolled the snow naked, had rescued her when Edison hurt her, tried to defend her, and yet she sat in Mo’s waiting for him, hoping for…

Ilona winced. For what? What a fool she was. Worse, showing him her scars hadn’t driven him away. His tentative touch had been hot and evocative. Her reaction to him pulsed hope through her. This was her life now, wondering if a man not disgusted by her scars meant a possible date or did revulsion equal rejection?

The door opened allowing the sneaky frozen fingers of a stiff breeze to sweep across the diner, under the tables, and through gaps in her clothes. She clasped her hands between her thighs and huddled. Rhys slid into the booth in front of her, bringing his mind-altering cologne with him. At the same time, Mo served a slice of pie, a mountain of cream, and a hot coffee.

“I’ll have the same, please, Mo,” he said.

Muscled forearms came into view when he rested them on the table. Exposing bulging forearms, he pushed up his black T-shirt’s long sleeves as if the weather wasn’t below freezing. Just like Dane. Bear?

“Tell me all about her,” Ilona said by way of greeting, picking up the spoon to dig into the pie.

“Callista Devereaux’s in her late twenties and ex-law enforcement. She’s a redhead with green eyes, the same as her sister, Valerie. Her blood is supposedly remarkable to the vamps, and I’ve seen her fight. They call her a huntress, whatever that means. She’s sassy and honorable, strong, and stubborn.” While Mo served him, he fell silent then palmed his spoon to slice into the pie seconds later.

“Sounds like you care for her.” Ilona fought the inevitable heartache.

This man wasn’t meant for her either, despite his electrifying touch and the intensity in his blue eyes. The sharp pain mingled with the bitterness of disappointment told her she would have liked him to be hers. Then again, would he find her attractive as scarred and human as she was?

“I do. She’s special. When I learned you have Devereaux blood running through your veins, I had to find out more. Once Callie and Val hear about you, they’ll be here in a heartbeat.”

“Stumbling upon me was a coincidence?” Ilona arched a brow then licked the cream off her spoon. Blue lights swirled outside the diner, drawing her gaze. She stilled, balanced the spoon on the side of the plate and rose to her feet. “Shit, Mo. Is Jake looking for me?”

He rushed in, leaving his SUV running and its door open. Ilona didn’t glance at Rhys while she shoveled in another quick bite. Looks like yet another slice of unfinished pie. She cast a forlorn glance at the bowl of cream.

She settled her gaze on Rhys. “Thanks for meeting me. I know you didn’t want to.” Shit, why did I say that? “Mo, I’ll square up later. Have a nice life, Rhys.” And that? Heat flushed Ilona’s face, but she ignored it, climbing out of the booth as Jake opened the door.

“Of all the nights.” He marched into the diner, stamping snow off his boots.

Tugging her jacket closed, she rocked on her toes while zipping up. “I’m ready, Jake. Is it the scientists?”

“Damn weather chose the wrong day.” He paused, leveling his brown gaze on her. “Avalanche, Ilona. The team’s on their way.”

She gasped and darted out the door and into her rental without a second thought. Her side door opened. She gaped at Rhys when he slid in. His bulk consumed the air in the cab, filling it with his scent, his dominating presence.

She so didn’t need this distraction. “Get out, Rhys. I don’t have time to debate this with you.”

His gaze met hers. A pulse ticked at the base of his clenched jaw. “Don’t ask me to abandon you.”

She winced. Throwing her words back at her was unfair. “Shit. We’ll talk about your high-handedness later.”

She reversed, spinning the tires, trusting them to find traction. With what confidence she had earned in the past few days, she hurtled down the main road.

Jake trailed her with his blue lights spinning.

Chapter Eighteen

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