Four Weddings and a Werewolf

“There’s more inside.” She flipped it upside down, and a few pictures fell out onto her desk. “I didn’t realize…”

Logan slid off his chair and went palms-down on the desk. The pictures accompanying the postcard were taken at the Grady wedding. There was one of Veronica standing by Heather near the bar, though half of Heather’s body was cut out of the frame. Veronica looked to be laughing, throwing her head back as if Heather had said something funny. Another picture was of Veronica tweaking a flower pedestal before the wedding took place—the lens was focused on the round of her backside. Judging from the angle, it was taken from a seated position not far behind her. The third picture was the most alarming of all. Veronica in the parking lot, stranded in her car, right before Logan approached her about needing help.

The damn wolf had been right there, so close, and Logan had failed to pick up his scent. If he hadn’t offered Veronica assistance, how long would the stalker have waited before he made his move?

“He was there. The guy was really there. He was watching me the whole time.” Veronica brushed her fingers over the photos, studying them with a perplexed expression. “And he wants me to know he’s watching me. That’s probably the creepiest part. Who would do something like this?”

“It’s probably a disgruntled ex-boyfriend who can’t let you go.” Bending down, Logan readjusted the knife on his boot. “Any of those around?”

“Yeah, like I’d date a werewolf.” Veronica scooped the pictures into the envelope and dropped them into her top drawer. Then she pulled out a blank manila folder and dropped it on her desk. “That’d never happen.”

Logan’s heart squeezed, and he forced the wolf part of him to chill out. He didn’t want to date Veronica. Didn’t want to get any closer to her than he had to. His mother and stepfather had bonded for life, and look what happened to them. They’d loved each other, sure, but they’d also fought nonstop. When Logan reached sixth grade, they decided they wanted to roam the world without a child attached to their side. They left him to fight for his own survival, and if it hadn’t been for the Alpha of the Seattle Wolf Pack taking him in, he’d be in jail or dead. Completing the Luminary bond seriously screwed with people’s heads; his mother had put her relationship with Logan’s stepfather over her own son. There was no way he was following in his parents’ matrimonial footsteps.

“I know it sounds crazy, but I’m a little disappointed in the whole thing,” Veronica continued, flipping through her notes. “I was flattered that there was a guy out there who would care enough to send me love notes and buy me flowers. No guy had ever done that for me before.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s the truth. I’m usually the one giving everything of myself for barely anything in return. I think I expect too much. That has to be the problem.” She tapped the back end of a pen against her lips. “To be honest, that was part of the reason I wanted to sleep with you. You told me exactly what to expect, one night, that was it. Although the way you left pissed me off, at least you gave me the courtesy none of my exes did.”

“Not that I’m complaining, because I had a great time with you last night,” Logan said. “But it sucks that you’ve had to give so much of yourself to losers who didn’t appreciate you.”

She smirked. “Don’t patronize me, Logan.”

“I’m serious.” It surprised him that he truly was. “The men you’ve dated before had to be losers, because a real man would treat you right and cherish you the way you deserve. A real man would stay at your side and feed you ice cream. In bed. Every night for the rest of your life.”

Where’d that come from?

Veronica gaped, the light in her brown eyes beginning to dance.

“What I meant was,” Logan said, clearing his throat, “don’t be disappointed about the love notes. If a guy is sending you anonymous letters, he’s not the one for you. The right guy will tell you he loves you to your face, and when he kisses you, you’ll know it by the curl of your toes.”

“Thanks for the advice, Casanova, but you’re not exactly an expert. How long was your longest relationship? Two days?”

He shrugged, thinking about all the girls who had meant nothing to him. But he’d never been dishonest with any of them. Never promised a future that he couldn’t give them. For the first time, he felt that he meant the words coming out of his mouth. Veronica did deserve someone who would curl her toes. A man who would tell her he loved her and mean it.

“I’ll be the first to admit that I haven’t been a gleaming example of long-term monogamy.”

“Understatement of the century.” A tiny smile curled the corner of Veronica’s lips. “I knew you were a heartbreaker the first moment I saw you.”

“Is that right?”

She nodded and bit her bottom lip. “Since we’re going to be hanging out a lot together this week, it’s a good thing we’re sticking to those one-night-stand rules of yours.”

His stomach dropped as he fought to keep his eyes connected with hers. “You’re right. It’s best if we keep everything strictly business.”

“I agree.” Her gaze said something different. “I have to protect this heart of mine.”

She was teasing him, and damn if he didn’t like it.

“So what should I do about the pictures?” Veronica asked, brushing her hands up and down her arms.

“Shred them.” Logan exhaled heavily, wishing he could ease her worries. “And trust that I’ll find this guy before he gets the chance to take more.”

Chapter Nine

The grinding sound of a lawn mower woke Veronica from her slumber. Moaning, she buried her head under her pillow and pulled the edges down over her ears to block the noise. At her feet, Cocoa meowed, then meandered onto the pillow on top of her head. She was too tired to tell her only friend that her pillow was not a new cat bed, so she reached up and stroked the cat’s back. Veronica was tired and drained from having pulled two all-nighters in a row. Her eyes ached and her brain was fuzzy. All she wanted was another hour of sleep. Just an hour. Maybe two.

It was Saturday, for crying out loud. Who mowed their lawn at daybreak on Saturday?

The swaying groan of the lawn mower as it came closer, then faded away, made her back teeth grind. It sounded as if it was coming from outside her window, but that couldn’t be right. She could almost imagine Logan mowing his lawn, shirtless, his muscles flexing as he pushed the machine across the lawn and back. If it wasn’t for the irritation growing in her belly, she might’ve fallen back asleep and had very good dreams about his muscles flexing while he was performing other hard labor. She may not have wanted to have anything serious with Logan, the player of the year, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t fantasize about the downright delicious man.

A dog barked. There were shouts. It was Logan’s voice, rough and commanding. He was definitely the mowing culprit. The dog barked again, over the sound of the grass-chewing machine. God, she hated canines in every form.

How long was Logan going to mow? Another hour? He didn’t have that much lawn.

“I have a patch of grass you can mow,” she mumbled with a smile, and tried to fall back into that kind of a dream.

They’d been together all week, and although Veronica never would’ve thought it, Logan was a great help. He’d gone with her to every appointment, had stayed out of the way while she took care of business, and for lunch and dinner he’d taken her out. They’d gone dutch on all the bills so far, although he’d fought hard each time to absorb her portion. She didn’t have to worry if the werewolf following her was going to show up—she felt safe with Logan at her side. He was always on watch, always on alert.

It was an odd feeling…trusting someone to take care of her when she was used to taking care of herself.

She’d received an envelope with notes and pictures every day in the mail. Some of the pictures were of her