Wild Wolf
Page 19Misty gave Xav a smile and turned away, gathering up the cash from her register and safe to take to the bank. Flores had been so intent on his revenge on Paul he hadn’t bothered to rob her.
One bunch of roses in her cooler had survived intact. Misty found a vase for them, and then Xavier helped her carry everything out to his truck, got her inside, drove her to the bank, and then home.
“Thanks, Xavier. Lindsay is lucky to have you.”
Xavier gave a laugh as he followed Misty out of the truck and into her house, the vase under his arm. “Lindsay and I have fun, but she can take me or leave me. She goes out with other guys, and I learned a while ago either to be fine with it or stop seeing her at all.”
Misty knew he wasn’t wrong. Lindsay had told Misty that she wasn’t ready to settle down yet and look for a mate. She was only fifty, for the Goddess’s sake, she’d said, laughing. She had a lot of wild oats to sow, and female Shifters could sow some serious oats.
“Sorry about that,” Misty said.
Xavier shrugged. “We’re both young. I give her space, and she gives me space. Maybe one day . . .”
“Well, she should take what she’s got while she can.”
Misty headed for the kitchen and laid the roses on the counter, scarlet heads resting on paper towels. She took the vase from Xavier and started running water into it.
Truly weird how he’d happened to show up at the convenience store where she was. Made her shiver. Misty was grateful for Xavier’s presence and reassurance.
“You’re sweet,” Xavier said, as Misty lifted the dripping vase to more paper towels on the counter.
“Hmm?” she asked absently, snipping the last inch or so from the roses’ stems. “For what?”
“For what you said about Lindsay. Graham should appreciate you better.”
“I dumped him,” Misty said.
Xav blinked. “You what?”
“I said, I dumped him.” Misty tore off low-hanging leaves with more force than necessary and stuck the roses into the vase. “I’m tired of him assuming I’ll be there for him whenever he wants.” She jabbed the stems in. “He expects me to be waiting, as though I don’t exist when he isn’t around. But I have a life. If he doesn’t want me in his, then fine.” She stuck in the last rose, cleaned up the mess, and carried the vase to a table in the hall. The roses filled the space with bright color and fragrance.
Xavier followed her. “I guess I get that.”
“Not interested?” Xavier looked Misty up and down with flattering interest. “Is he insane?”
“You know what it is to be a human around Shifters. I liked Graham as soon as I saw him, but he drives me crazy. What is wrong with me? I’m pretty sure he backs off me because I’m not Shifter. I bet that’s why Lindsay keeps it cool with you too.”
Xavier started to shake his head, and ended up shrugging. “Yeah, I figured that.”
“Look at us. We’re both two perfectly nice people. Why are we hanging around waiting on Shifters instead of finding other perfectly nice humans to be with? We’re no better than the Shifter groupies.”
Xav let out another laugh. “Are you sure you’ve only been drinking water?”
“Very sure. But I’m still thirsty. I must have gotten seriously dehydrated. I’ll start on the booze as soon as I feel better.”
“Why don’t you drink some more water and lie down or something?” Xav said. “I’ll be here, standing guard, so you don’t have to worry about anything. You had an ordeal.”
Misty sighed. “See? I’m right—you are sweet. Lindsay doesn’t know what she’s missing.”
“That’s dangerous,” Xav said in a low voice.
Misty walked away from him, opened the bottle, and gulped down a third of the water on her way to the bedroom.
She fell asleep very quickly. She tried to think about Xav’s handsome face, but it was instantly blotted out by Graham’s hard, intense stare, and then she was asleep and dreaming.
• • •
Misty thought she was back in the huge cave she’d found. Water burbled in the middle of it, this time in an ornate, gigantic fountain that flowed into a river of water. Flowers and vines snaked around the fountain, up the rock walls, across the floor. These flowers shouldn’t be thriving, not out here. Desert flowers could be gorgeous, but these were from a hothouse garden—large puffs of white hyacinths, climbing yellow roses, and red and pink dots of sweet william, mixed with tropical flowers like bird-of-paradise. Everything was beautiful in a bizarre kind of way.
Misty’s mouth went drier than ever as she gazed at the fountain. She needed that water.
Come. Drink.
The hiker stood near the fountain. He was no longer the scruffy, dirt-stained, sweaty man who’d talked to her in the desert and the convenience store. His face was clean, sharp, and his hair, white blond, flowed to his waist in a long, straight wave. Some women would kill for hair like that.