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here?”
    She unlocked the drug cabinet and opened the doors, then flipped on a light above it and pointed at the bottles to direct his attention. “Medical mission? Oh, no. You mean in Peru. No, I was at a...” She looked sidelong at him, her expression growing wary. “I was at an ayahuasca retreat.”
    The word was familiar somehow, but between the pain in his hand, the pain in his shoulder and the headache he’d been nursing since he’d decided to turn the group around he couldn’t place it. “I know I should know what that is, but it’s eluding me.”
    “It’s a place you go to have...” She stumbled along, clearly hedging and not really wanting to tell him.
    People who avoided a direct answer had something to hide, either because it embarrassed them or they expected disapproval. Which was when he remembered what ayahuasca was. “Ayahuasca is a hallucinogen, isn’t it?”
    Her sigh confirmed it. “It’s not like LSD or hard drugs. It’s a herbal and natural way of expanding your consciousness. I went there for a spirit quest under the care of a shaman—someone who knows about use of the plant and how to make the decoction properly. Someone who could help me understand everything I needed to know beforehand. And before you say anything, I’m not a drug user. I don’t smoke anything. I only drink alcohol once a year—champagne on New Year’s with Mirry. And nothing else remotely dodgy the rest of the year.” As she spoke, her volume increased, along with the tension between her brows. “My body is a freaking temple, Judgy McGravedigger.”
    Anson lifted both hands, trying to put the brakes on the situation before she got really angry. Obviously he’d hit a nerve, she’d gone from quiet and somewhat babbly to angry because he’d called it a hallucinogen. “I’m not judging, but I am curious. And I agree your body is a temple.”
    Smooth.
    When she turned back to her task he focused on the cabinet again and the array of medicines, and changed the subject. “Well stocked.”
    She went with it and didn’t comment on his completely unacceptable remark about her body. “Mirry’s a planner. She likes to be prepared for anything. She’s always been good like that, never lets anyone down.” A clipboard hung inside the cabinet, but where he’d expected to see an inventory sheet had been clipped a single piece of notebook paper, a list of supplies in a scrolling, extravagant script. She picked it up and began writing again.
    Mirry? Always been?
    Ellory wasn’t a nurse...
    Sister? “Are you Ellory Dupris?” Anson put the two names together as he plucked one bottle of antibiotics from the shelf and set it on her clipboard so she could get a good look at the spelling and dose of medication.
    “Ellory Du...? Oh, no. My name is Ellory Star.”
    She scribbled down the medicine then put the bottle into a little plastic basket. “You look for any other medicines, I’m going to get the supplies to clean your knuckles up.” Before she headed away she turned back to him with a little pinch between her brows. “I’m sorry I made fun of your name. It wasn’t nice. But in my defense it’s kind of a terrible name. You should change it. Pick something more positive.”
    Pick something? “You picked Star, didn’t you?”
    “Yep.”
    Okay... He’d think about that later. “You do work here, though.”
    “Licensed massage therapist, which is my primary occupation, I guess. I’ve completed training and passed boards to be a physiotherapy assistant in Texas, but I haven’t done any office work on it or taken boards here. The closest I came was a mission where the leader had back trouble and I helped her with the daily exercises her actual treatment prescribed...helped her handle being out in the field,” she answered, fishing a badge from under her sweater and answering the question that he’d been working toward.
    Anticipating. She really was perceptive. And the occupations fit. But then again, she