Not this time.
She wasn’t going to allow her aching awareness of this male to blind her to the fact that he saw her as nothing more than just another Healer.
She lifted her chin and feigned impassive, business-like composure. “If you read my letter, you know I’m no longer your mother’s caregiver. If you want to bark orders at someone, find Sylvia.”
“I don’t know Sylvia,” he snapped. “And I have no intention of knowing her.” He grabbed her shoulders, his voice softening to a low rasp as his gaze swept over her face. “You belong here, Molly.”
She let him touch her, a deep sadness settling in the center of her soul. “No, Garrick. I don’t. And that’s the whole point.”
Without warning, Garrick’s face paled to an ashen shade. “You met someone.”
She pressed her lips together. If he only knew. If he only understood and cared and wanted… “I told you in the letter that I have a new position.”
“One you clearly don’t need, since you already have a position here,” he returned hotly.
Frustrated at him, at herself, she pulled away. “I think I’m capable of deciding where I want to work.”
She watched the glow of his cat reacting to her rejection, snarling, upper lip curling.
“And caring for my mother is no longer good enough for you?”
“Don’t you dare imply I don’t love your mother,” she rasped, her chin tilted to a defiant angle.
She’d be damned if he demeaned the devotion she’d offered over the past five years. Virginia was not just a patient, not just a friend, and he knew it as well as she did.
Reaching up, Garrick tugged on his tie, his irritation clearly being replaced by genuine confusion.
“Why are you so mad?” He gave a baffled shake of his head. “Why are you acting like this? Or reacting like this? It’s not you.”
Her heart squeezed painfully. “You don’t know me.” She met his gaze squarely. “You never wanted to know me.”
He stiffened at that, the predictable wariness settling on his fiercely beautiful face.
It was exactly what Molly expected. Had come to expect. They might share the most intimate details of their thoughts and desires through their letters, but whenever Garrick returned to the Wildlands, to this house, he reverted to treating her like a mere employee.
It was ridiculous.
And insulting.
To be sure, she knew more about this male than anyone else in the world did. Including his own mother. But he only revealed that true self when they were a thousand miles apart.
Enough was enough.
“Will you say goodbye to your mother for me?” she asked coolly.
His nostrils flared and those honey eyes turned molten gold. “What about me, Molly?” he demanded, the air prickling with the heat of his cat. “Were you going to say goodbye to me? Or was that what the f**king letter was about?”
She was done with this conversation, this back and forth. She had made her decision. Hell, should’ve made it a long time ago. She tightened her hold on her suitcases, and, slapping an expression of determination on her face, she swept past his rigid form.
“Goodbye, Garrick.”
CHAPTER 3
Garrick felt feral as his puma slashed through moonlit grass and darted around fragrant cypress, hissing at anything that had the misfortune to cross his path. Flora, fauna, and if it had a heartbeat—so long, sucker. He couldn’t believe Molly had just walked out.
On his mother.
On…him.
He snarled at a lone squirrel as he ran past, even bared his teeth and licked his chops, though he despised the taste of small game. The thing froze, then turned bushy tail and fled.
A new job.
Fuck. If she was going to leave him, didn’t he have the right to know what kind of job it was? Why she wanted it? Who had offered it to her?
And if it had anything to do with a male?
The thought had his blood surging hot and fast through his veins. Growling, he picked up speed, zipping from tree to tree. Only when he heard the high-pitched and very pissed-off cry of a fellow puma did he stop short. Breathing heavy, his puma’s sides heaving, he realized he’d startled off the prey of the massive male puma who’d obviously been on the hunt. And not just any male. He cursed inwardly and shifted into his human form. The other puma shifted as well.
“Garrick?”
Backlit by the moon, the tall, blond Suit stared at him, confused and more than a little irritated. “What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were finishing the contract for the safe house.”
“It fell through.” Garrick’s gaze lifted and connected with that of Raphael, his superior and mentor. “I have another space in mind, but I had something to deal with here first.”
The irritation in the male’s gold eyes waned. “Your mother?”
“No,” Garrick said quickly as a sudden breeze off the bayou moved over him, cooling his hot skin and his hotter blood. “She’s well. It’s her damn caretaker who’s got my fur ruffled and my fangs out.”
“Sweet Molly?” Raphael said, his eyes widening with disbelief. “She’s too nice for such frustration. Although,” he amended with a wicked grin, “with that perfect face and lush body, there is a line of Pantera males who wouldn’t mind her ruffling their fur or coaxing their fangs out.”
The instant explosion inside Garrick’s brain was rabid and uncontrolled. He rushed at the male, and in seconds had his back against a tree trunk. “Is that right?” he snarled, his pulse slamming against the cord of muscle in his neck. “And who would be at the front of that line?”
Raphael didn’t move. He didn’t look angry or fearful. Instead, he said in a calm, curious voice, “That’s a reaction which should be examined, brother. Don’t you agree?”
Nostrils flaring, Garrick backed up. As the realization of what he’d just done, and to whom, snaked through his burning blood, he shook his head and growled. “I apologize. I must be jetlagged.”
Unfolding from the trunk of the cypress, Raphael moved forward, amusement lighting his eyes. “So where is she?”
“Medical,” Garrick uttered tersely. “She quit. After five years.” He sniffed. “Claims to have a new position.”
“Then she’d be in the dormitory with the other single Nurturers.”
Garrick’s gut clenched. He’d forgotten that part of Nurturer housing. “When you referred to the other males who might be interested in her, were you speaking in general or do you know—”
“I know nothing, brother,” Raphael assured him. “But if you’re this jacked up over the idea of such a thing…well, what does that tell you?”
“That she doesn’t belong there,” Garrick tossed out.
“Try again.”
His eyes lifted sharply to connect with Raphael. “That this new job of hers is a bad idea. She was safe and comfortable where she was. She was happy…” He broke off. Happy? Shit, clearly not. Because if she had been, she’d have stayed. And wouldn’t have looked at him like that in the hall before she’d walked out. Like he was her jailer. Like she wanted nothing to do with him anymore.
He swallowed thickly.
Like she wanted something else. Or someone else.
Without even a grunt of farewell to his mentor, Garrick shifted back into his puma form and took off into the trees. He would fix this. Offer her more money, more challenges to her Nurturer nature, whatever she required. Anything to get her back home where she belonged.
Then he could return to his work, to where he belonged, with peace of mind once again.
CHAPTER 4
Molly was given her old rooms at the back of the dormitory.
She didn’t have a lot of space. A small bedroom, a living room and bathroom. Still, they were hers. With no aggravating male thinking he could stroll in and out of her life whenever he felt the urge.
After unpacking her belongings, she’d headed to the communal storage shed to gather lights and holly, as well as the small box of decorations she’d left there after the death of her parents.
Once back in her rooms, she’d set about creating a Noël atmosphere, all the while forcing her heart and her mind to accept what was. Yes, she was back to where she’d started. Yes, her spirit was bruised. And yes, it felt as if she’d wasted the last five years of her life.
But she’d be damned if she was going to allow her heavy heart to ruin these last precious days of a holiday she adored more than any other.
Bayou Noël was going to belong to her now.
At last, satisfied that she’d replaced the institutional boredom of her space with a festive cheer, Molly moved to the window that overlooked the bayou, remembering the last Noël she’d shared with her parents. A smile touched her lips.
She’d tried to pretend she was too old to be excited by all the presents that had been neatly and beautifully wrapped and stacked both around the fireplace and inside their stockings. But she’d been secretly thrilled when her father had refused to listen to her protests, and had swung her into his arms so she could place the angel goddess on top of the mantel.
That’s what she missed. What she wanted.
The laughter. The love. The sheer comfort of family.
A family of her own again.
She wiped away a tear. Dammit. Maybe she’d make a stocking for herself this year. And some hot chocolate with extra marshmallows.
This was her place. Her new start.
Repeating the words in an attempt to convince herself that she hadn’t made a terrible mistake by walking out of that house earlier, Molly abruptly stiffened as she caught the familiar scent of an approaching cat.
Garrick.
Shit. Pulse pounding, she moved forward, wishing she’d locked her door. But she was too late, as the angry male simply barged into her rooms, his aggression filling the space with prickles of heat.
Glancing around, his brows slammed together as his gaze took in the pictures and personal items that had already been set around the room, as well as the Noël decorations.