married the Saturday after that and she’s not going to be here until the rehearsal, the night before the big day. That makes everything ten times worse. I’ll be planning everything on my own, including the parts that the bride typically handles.”
Logan spun the radio dial, stopping on a slow, raspy Otis Redding song that reminded Veronica of summers spent at her parent’s lake house.
“Does your sister live out of town or something?”
“No, she lives here, but she’s an author so she has a book tour in San Francisco that lasts until late next week.”
“An author? That’s cool.” Logan brushed his fingers across the cracked leather steering wheel. He seemed oddly nervous, jittery almost, but the emotion didn’t suit him. She must’ve been picking up something else. “What’s she write?” he asked.
“Her books are thrillers about wolf men living in high society.” Laughing, Veronica shook her head, then pointed to the passing freeway sign. “You’ll want to take the next exit.”
Everything came so easy for Leah. She’d never had any intention of becoming an author until she was attacked by a werewolf last year. Suddenly Leah got the crazy idea to write a thriller based on the incident, and how the heroine fell in love with an Alpha wolf man—a nonfiction account that she played off as fiction—and the book caught fire. People loved it. They loved
The only hiccup in Leah’s beautiful, blissful existence was turning into a wolf last year.
“I think that’s pretty awesome.” Logan glanced at Veronica, but she didn’t meet his stare. His gaze burned into her cheek, igniting a blush that spread down her neck. “Are the books good?”
“I don’t know. I guess they’re good if you like reading about smelly, hairy things that go bump in the night.”
Logan exited the freeway, and the truck jerked as it downshifted. “You haven’t read your sister’s books?”
“Is it that obvious?”
As a stop sign came into sight, he slowed around a bend. “Is it your sister’s writing style?”
“No.” That wasn’t it at all. “I think wolves are disgusting, hairy creatures who—”
Logan slammed on his brakes, well short of the stop sign line.
Veronica lurched forward, then back, slamming her head against the bench seat. “What was that for?” She was more shocked than hurt, her mouth gaping open when she realized he’d just brake-checked her. “I don’t see anyone crossing, funny guy. I think you’re clear for another ten feet.”
“Sorry.” Logan shrugged, and a tiny dimple indented into his left cheek. “Jerky brakes. I need to take a look at those.”
…
“There,” Veronica said, pointing to a white two-story home in Ballard, a subdivision in northern Seattle. “My house is the one with the red front door.”
“I see it.” Logan flipped around and parked in front, so that she would step out onto the sidewalk, then killed the engine. “It’s nice.”
But Logan already knew which house Veronica lived in, even before she pointed it out. He knew before she directed him off the freeway, and before the day started. Hell, Logan knew a lot more than that. She didn’t own the white house with the red door—the house was her sister’s, and she’d been renting it from her for the last two years. The blue house across the street with the overgrown grass and weeds in the beds…Logan was renting that one.
Lucky for him, the place had gone up for rent shortly after Jake called for help with Veronica’s stalker. If he had to keep an eye on his neighbor without her knowing it, there was no better vantage point than from the safety of the living room across the street. He could easily see who came and went, and who drove too slowly down the street. Plus, there was a detached garage in back with alley access that allowed him to come and go without being seen.
“What part of Seattle do you live in?” Veronica’s hands fidgeted in her lap.
“I live pretty close, actually.” Logan stretched his arm over the back of the bench seat and glanced over his shoulder at his temporary digs.
“Really? That’s convenient. Won’t be a long ride home, then.” Veronica spun slightly, angling her body toward him. Her sweet scent hit him hard, like a sucker punch to the groin. He hardened behind his fly, and shifted in his seat to hide the proof. How could she affect him so easily? With a single glance from behind her thick, fluttering lashes, his insides tightened into a fist. One whiff of her scent, and the wolf inside him roared, clawing to be set free.
She bit her bottom lip. “Did you enjoy yourself at the wedding?
“What’s there to enjoy? Overpriced drinks, overpriced gifts, and tons of family nobody recognizes.” Watching her worry her lip between her teeth evaporated the moisture from Logan’s mouth. He wanted to trace that plump bottom lip with his tongue and slowly suck it into his mouth. “This, right here, is the highlight of my night.”
“That’s sweet of you to say.” She paused, eyeing his lips with rabid hunger. “I heard what you said to that old man during the reception. You really don’t ever see yourself settling down?” Her tone was light, without any hint of pressure.
“I’m not the marrying kind.” Simple. To the point. No need to go into all the gory details of his parents’ marriage and the gleaming example he’d had of what not to do. “It’s better that I’m on my own.”
“Better, how?”
As a slow and soulful Van Morrison song buzzed from the speakers, a smattering of rain began to dimple the windshield. He exhaled heavily and struggled to release himself from the guilt of getting close to Veronica when he knew he shouldn’t.
“I meant that it’s better for the woman.” Uncomfortable and hating the feeling, Logan glanced over at his talkative passenger. The end of her ponytail was draped over one smooth shoulder, and the skinny strap of her black dress had slipped off the other. She was simply seductive, classically beautiful with dark hair and dark eyes that had more tones and shades to them than he could study in a lifetime. She was different from the other women he’d dated, who caked makeup over their faces in a poor attempt to hide their “flaws.” She was naturally dazzling and didn’t even know it. “I don’t do long-term relationships, and I don’t play the boyfriend card well, so it’s better if I keep things light.”
“You mean distant,” she corrected.
“Yeah. I mean distant.” Logan kept everyone at arm’s length. Always had. He’d had girlfriends over the years, but he couldn’t commit as they’d wanted him to. Logan’s mother had been married five times before he reached third grade. When she finally found her Luminary—her one and only fated lover—they’d fought like cats and dogs. Logan learned the lesson early: even if he found his soul’s match, things still wouldn’t be easy. They’d still fight. Still ride each other’s last nerve. “Like I said, it’s better this way.”
Ever so slowly, Veronica inched her way across the bench seat so she was sitting next to him, her thigh brushing his. Even through the springy fabric of her dress and his pants, warmth radiated from her body to his.
“I’ve never been one to keep things light,” she said, leaning in slowly. “But I’m willing to give it a shot…if you’ll show me.”
Veronica was exactly the kind of woman he needed to stay away from. He tried to creep away, but his back met the hard ridge of the door. He kept his arm in place, but now it was draped right behind her shoulder. How easy it would be to curl it around her petite frame and drag her against him. She’d be warm and soft, a reprieve from the harsh coldness he’d forced into his life.
“Tell me, Logan,” she said, her mouth dangerously close to his. “Why were you so assertive back at the park, when you offered to take me home, but now it feels like you’re pulling away? Have you changed your mind?”
“About you?” The desire to stamp his mouth on hers had only hardened with her showing of confidence.
