Page 20 of Midnight Mate
I thought about it, trying to decide if it was worth it. The witches didn’t do anything for free.
“All right,” I said eventually because it’s not like I had another choice. Unless I wanted to heal like a human.
For some reason, I thought of Cat. A magical healing would mean no more physical therapy. But it would also mean getting the hell out of here sooner rather than later.
“I’ll reach out to the coven. See if I can set something up,” Angus said.
“Thanks, man. I mean it. Not just for this. For my mom, too.”
“East, don’t even mention it. Time and distance don’t change a thing.” He shook his head like he could already read my next thought. “Neither do pack politics. We’re still brothers.”
8
Cat
My nerves kept me awake half the night. By the time I woke and showered, the idea of spending more time with East had me coming apart. On the third outfit change, Rudy poked his head in my bedroom and whistled low.
“Damn, girl. Travis doesn’t deserve this kind of revenge.”
“This isn’t for Travis,” I said.
Rudy’s eyes narrowed instantly. “Then who is it for?”
When I started to answer, he held up a hand. “And don’t say no one. Because a girl doesnotgo to this much trouble before breakfast for no damn reason.”
I sighed. “I’m going to help Easton with his at-home exercises.”
Rudy’s smirk was a direct contradiction to the innocent way he batted his lashes. “Is that what the kids are calling it now?”
“Rudy, I will evict you.”
“The place is in my name, sweetheart. And I’m pretty sure the sheriff has a crush on me, so good luck with that.”
“Fine. I’ll withhold all details of my day.”
“You’re evil.”
Now, it was my turn to smirk.
“Fine.” He put a hand on his hip, trying like hell to keep the dirty innuendoes from infiltrating his expression. “What about the clinic?”
“Karen’s going to cover my patients this morning.”
Rudy didn’t answer, and I could see his brain working overtime right now.
“What?” I demanded.
“Nothing. I’m sure you two will have a wholesome time together.” His gaze slid to my tight jeans and the low-cut sweater he’d made me buy a couple of months ago because, according to him, it was a lethal weapon. “That outfit though…”
I swiped my palms down my thighs, my nerves making it hard to breathe. “Is it too much?”
“Hell, no. It’s perfect. Ghost boy won’t know what hit him.”
“I’m not trying to—”
“Yes, you are. And I completely approve. Now, go get him.”
Biting back a smile, I smoothed the tight jeans and white sweater one more time then fussed with my hair. I’d left it loose and long, my blonde waves hanging over my shoulders. It felt fancy somehow. Probably because I’d worn my hair in a practical ponytail for as long as I could remember.
