Four Weddings and a Werewolf

Her fiance snorted and flicked a raisin off his plate.

He must’ve kept his potent sex appeal on lockdown.

Dinner arrived: smoked salmon, oven-roasted green beans, lemon, and basil. Harold shoved it in his cheeks, probably so he wouldn’t have to talk about what happened in the past. Veronica ordered her third glass of wine, and one for her new friend.

“How’d you guys meet?” Roxanne asked, directing her question to Logan.

Cheeks full, he waved his fork around. “We’re in the same wedding on Saturday.”

“Oh, how sweet.”

“That’s not entirely true.” Veronica smacked him in the shoulder. “I’m a job. He was hired to protect me and—”

“Veronica, let’s not go there,” he interrupted, dropping his fork.

“No, let’s do.” Roxanne smiled, probably thrilled that she’d hit relationship-drama pay dirt. “What were you saying, sweetheart?”

“Really,” Logan said, touching her arm. “You don’t want to go there.”

What was he trying to hide? Roxanne must’ve known what he did for a living. Did he think she was going to drag his furry wolf ass out of the closet and expose him as the animal he was? She wouldn’t go that far—wouldn’t want to scare the woman half to death—but there was no harm in telling the truth to some extent.

“Bring her another glass,” Roxanne said to the waiter as he brought over the next dinner selection.

Veronica winked in thanks. “It’s simple really. I have a stalker. Logan was hired to protect me.” She hiccuped, laughed, and then clutched her chest. “And let me tell you, he did a lot more than that!”

The wine was already getting to her, making her arms and legs all tingly.

“That doesn’t surprise me. I always thought he’d fall for someone at work.” Roxanne took a dainty bite and leaned over the table as the waiter brought over the bottle and refilled their glasses. “You were so involved, Logan, so dedicated to the families you protected. You were a sucker for those damsels in distress. Your biggest downfall, darling. Too big of a heart. It was one of the things that irritated me the most about you.”

Having a big heart was irritating? The wine was fuzzing her ears.

“I didn’t come here to dredge up the past.” Logan sawed through his salmon and glared at Roxanne, looking thoroughly unmoved by her topic of choice. “Can we change the subject?”

“Yes, did you catch the draft?” Harold said, cheeks full. “The Seahawks picked up Reggie Martin. We might actually clinch a Super Bowl win this year.”

“Ugh.” Roxanne rolled her eyes. “What happens in the man cave, stays in the man cave, remember?”

“Way to neuter him,” Logan said.

This was turning out to be quite the party. Just the thing to spruce up her week.

Veronica emptied her glass and licked her lips, savoring the bold, rustic flavor that clung there. Her thoughts were starting to go wonky, so she continued to prod. With a smile. “So it was his dedication to other women that drove you away?”

That made more sense than Harold’s secret sex power.

“It was the way he treated them, you see,” Roxanne said, eyeing Logan. “Not the women, necessarily, but everyone involved. He would send money to the families where a loved one was lost on his watch. Like he owed them something, even though he had nothing to do with the incident. How can you build a life with someone who gives away his savings to families that aren’t yours? We’d never be able to travel the world or buy a nice house.”

“Roxanne,” Logan said, slowly leaning back in his chair. “What I do with my money is my business.”

“I’d work and save my money. He’d work, pay the bills, buy what he needed, and donate the rest. If we stayed together, we’d never be ahead! Look at his truck, for crying out loud! Do you think I’d be able to pay off my Benz if we were still together?” She rattled on as if she hadn’t heard him. “No way in Hades. And if those families needed something, he was there. We’re talking fixing sinks, patching roofs, repairing cars. He did it all, leaving his own house behind. I’m sure it’s the same old story, the same old Logan.”

“My house is fine,” he countered.

“Even though he’s not getting paid anymore,” she continued, “I bet he still checks up on everyone to make sure they’re safe. He can’t detach. Never could.”

“Some of those families lost the father figures,” he mumbled quietly, but Veronica caught it.

Fixing sinks, roofs…cars? He helped out with duties that a husband or father might normally take care of.

How…gracious.

Veronica studied the hard angles of Logan’s face, trying to catch any sign that he might’ve been lying. She came up with nothing but a soft hint of sincerity sparkling in his light eyes. His shoulders had rolled forward slightly, and his cheeks had taken on a deep red blush. He looked downright embarrassed to be the focus of the conversation.

Did he not want people to know about the things he did for them?

Okay, being gracious was one thing, but doing it quietly to avoid recognition?

His behavior bordered the territory between nobility and self-sacrificing.

The waiter cleared their plates and replaced them with a giant dessert tray. Cheesecake, marble fudge cake, brownie bars, and cupcakes crowded the serving dish. Harold snatched a cupcake. Logan didn’t flinch.

“If you’re with Roxanne, you’re with her,” Harold mumbled, frosting stuck to his upper lip. “Keeping a woman like her takes time, love, and dedication.” He winked. “Whatever I’ve got is yours, my love.”

As long as he didn’t have a venereal disease, Roxanne would be all good.

“You got it, babe,” she said, reaching across to hold his hand. “You’re ten times better than he ever was.”

Rude. Logan was sitting right there.

Groaning, Logan kicked his foot up on his leg and searched around the restaurant. He was probably looking for an escape route. As Roxanne and Harold started in with the goo-goo eyes and puckered lips, Veronica’s vulgarity meter leaped off the charts.

Logan was a werewolf, sure. But nobody deserved the kind of treatment she was dishing out. Why wasn’t he putting her in her place? Veronica didn’t know how to explain it, but something in her heart told her she already knew.

This was Veronica’s dinner. Her night. He was her date, and didn’t want to make a scene.

“You sound selfish,” Veronica blurted, her mouth blabbing faster than her brain. “I think it’s sweet that Logan cares enough to keep in contact with the victims’ families. If my stalker kills me, I’d really like it if he checked on my sister…and my cat, too. Someone’s got to put the food out for Leah.” Catching the slip, she snorted and waved her hand in front of her face in lieu of correcting it.

She didn’t have to see Logan’s eyes on her to know he was staring. Her skin tingled with delicious warmth.

“I mean…” She tipped back her fifth glass of wine, and had trouble finding her mouth. “It’s easy to shut people out and close off emotions and stuff. It takes strength to be gentle and kind, especially when you’re not expecting anything in return.”

Roxanne eyed Veronica carefully, then set her napkin over her plate. “I think you two will be perfectly happy together.” She smiled. Fake. “Just as Harold and I are.” Fakity- fake. “Logan, it was great seeing you.”

“Yeah, Logan,” Harold chimed in. “Really great.”

“Hey Harold,” Logan said, pumping an unenthusiastic fist in the air. “Go Seahawks.”

As Roxanne dragged Harold away from the table, Logan took the bottle of wine and placed it out of Veronica’s reach.

“Don’t want me to have any more?” she asked, giggling into a loud hiccup.

“You just defended me, in your own way.” He spun in his chair, and faced her. “I don’t think you want to continue to drink the juice that sent you on that trip. It was uncharacteristic of you.”

“That woman was a joke,” Veronica said, taking a forkful of cheesecake. “How self-centered can one person be?”

“Not woman,” he corrected. “Wolf.”