Half-skipping, Trent raced over to Owen and followed the Hunter out.
“That was well done,” Gillian complimented him.
“Thank you. Now eat your food and drink your tea.” He rose and gave the food on the coffee table a meaningful look. “Your health is also important, and your mate is starting to snarl in my direction.”
“He is not.” Still, she grinned and reached for the plate of cucumber and salmon sandwiches. His little healer had a deep affection for fish. Brett’s mother discovered she loved salmon in all its forms and kept sending over dishes for her to try. “But these are delicious.” She cradled the sandwiches, and he wondered if she’d take off his hand if he helped himself to one.
Unwilling to distract her from eating by making her defend her meal, he poured himself a cup of coffee. “Word is you do not need to go to Maine after all. Luc woke up and is on his way here.”
“Oh, that’s good. I wish you’d told me sooner about him. Owen and I could have made the drive, and we could have made sure he was out of the coma sooner.” He accepted the admonishment from her, but it didn’t change his mind about his decision.
“Pain is a good educator. Luc is also a Lone Wolf.”
“You don’t fool me.” Gillian curled her feet beneath her as she continued to nibble her sandwich. “He’s your friend. You don’t like to impose because you feel guilty about asking me to do so much when you haven’t managed to persuade me to stay in Hudson River full time.”
Damn her intelligence sometimes. “You’re a Willow Bend wolf, Gillian. I accept that is your home.”
“It’s not just about me, and you know it. Your pack needs a healer whose full commitment is to them, whose home is here, and whose heart is here.” Sipping her hot tea, she let out a sigh. “I do love it here, and I love you.” The words gave him a jolt, but also spearheaded pleasure through him. “But I belong with Owen, and his heart is in Willow Bend. He can’t leave Mason any more than you could abandon your people.”
“I know, little wolf.” He softened his manner and dropped to sit in the chair to her left. “You can’t blame me for trying.”
“Never.” A grin lit her expression. “And I won’t abandon you until you have a healer for your people and Trent is trained. So you’ll have years yet to put up with me.”
“Oh, the horror.” Scratching his jaw, he stretched his legs out. “You finished your assessments of the Hunters?”
She finished her sandwich before answering. “Not quite. Owen said we still have to meet with Paris and Bootsy, but they’re still in the city and neither of us really wants to go into Manhattan.”
Few of his wolves like the concrete island, however, for those that did, he’d assigned two Hunters to the area to be on call for assistance and to handle any potential situations. “Paris is a bitch, a real class A, type A, over-the-top control freak bitch, but she’s loyal to a fault. I’d have her at my back in a heartbeat.” One of the reasons he’d given her the assignment for Manhattan. “Bootsy is…distant, but trustworthy, and Paris says, while he’s sloppy, too playful and far too much in love with the city night life, she finds him an acceptable partner for the assignment.”
“Acceptable?” Lips pursed, Gillian raised her eyebrows. “Is that a compliment in her book?”
“Completely, so I am comfortable with both of them if you don’t get a chance to meet them.”
The door opened, and Owen’s scent accompanied the soft scrape of his shoe as he entered. “I would rather we did their assessment before we left,” he said, joining the conversation. “Your trust is obviously the most important component, but you asked me to assess your Hunters, to verify they were all in the right positions, and you wanted Gillian taking the temperature of their mental health. Believing them is vital, but being able to provide you with an accurate recommendation requires our meeting them.”
“And you want to be accurate.” Brett exhaled the words, then nodded slowly. He’d asked Owen for his expertise and trusted him on a level he didn’t quite trust his own Hunters—a lack on his part more than theirs. After Marco’s betrayal, though, Brett wanted another opinion. The madness which had consumed the Hunter cost too many lives. Far too many.
“Absolutely.” Owen studied his mate and the plate of sandwiches. Gillian had eaten two triangles, but another half dozen still sat on the plate.
“Mine,” she told him, hugging the plate and claiming another triangle.