Growl (Winter Pass Wolves Book 2) (2 page)

B
rooke Harbin stood
on a pedestal before a three way mirror, trying to hold back a fresh flood of tears as she stared at herself in her Monique Lhuillier wedding dress. She focused on the dress, the snug silver-tinged lace dripping from her collarbone to her wrists, the dramatically low back showing a bold splash of skin, the frothy floor-length skirt done in bright, cheerful white. It suited her perfectly, clinging to her curves and hiding her flaws without the slightest bit of tailoring.

This dress had been the perfect fit from the start. At the moment, this dress was the only certain thing in Brooke’s whole life. That thought made tears prickle at the corners of her eyes again. Tears were Brooke’s first reaction to almost everything: joy, fear, anger, frustration… apathy, even, sometimes made her cry. Guilt was the worst of them all, the emotion that always made her lose her cool. Just this moment, staring at herself wearing her beautiful custom wedding dress, Brooke felt anxious and frustrated and a hundred other things.

But most of all, she felt guilt. It was eating her alive, slowly but surely.

“Brooke, dear, I’ve brought your veil—” Lynne Marchand, the woman who would become Brooke’s mother in law in less than three weeks, stepped into the dressing room. She leveled Brooke with a dour expression. “You’re crying again.”

Brooke wiped at her face, certain that her eye makeup was a dead giveaway. With the wedding this close, and this many people watching Brooke’s every move, it was more important than ever for Brooke to keep her composure at all times, and look beautiful and graceful while she was at it. Travis Marchand, her fiancé of six years and twenty-six days, reminded her of that at every opportunity.

“Sorry, I’m just a little emotional,” Brooke said, flinching when Lynne marched over and tossed the veil at her.

Lynne put her hands on her hips, bringing attention to her rail-thin frame clad in a severe black wrap dress. Designer, no doubt. It probably cost a small fortune. Just like Lynne’s vivid blood red hair, carefully coiffed and sculpted. Just like her long red nails, which she drummed on any available surface when she found something tedious. Just like her artful but bold smoky eye makeup and dark red lipstick, an artful but heavy-handed application.

Everything about Lynne was dramatic and expensive, and she made sure everyone knew it. When Lynne narrowed her gaze on Brooke’s puffy face, Brooke felt her cheeks heat with discomfort.

“You went to see Dr. Preston about getting these mood swings under control, did you not? I recommended my personal psychiatrist to you because she’s the best of the best, Brooke. I expect you to follow through when I do you a service.”

Brooke sucked in a breath and nodded, refusing to let Lynne get the best of her. As a US district attorney, Lynne was as bossy and staunch with her friends and family as she was in the courtroom. There wasn’t a bit of give in Lynne’s personality, except where it came to her son. As her only child, Travis was lucky enough to escape a great deal of Lynne’s constant criticism and snide remarks. In fact, he’d adopted a lot of her personality quirks for his own, making him a formidable businessman… and maybe, at times, a bit of a bully.

“Now that I’m looking at this veil with the dress, the colors are totally wrong. What idiot thought these were both ivory?” Lynne huffed, grabbing the veil from Brooke’s hands.

“It… it’s my mother’s veil,” Brooke said, reaching out to try to take it back. “For my something old, you know.”

Lynne’s brows arched.

“I see,” she said, her face smoothing into a blank mask. “Perhaps the ladies here can… I don’t know… dye it.”

Brooke’s mouth dropped open with surprise, but Lynne was already turning to leave. Off to berate some poor bridal shop employee, no doubt. Before Lynne made it to the door, words poured out of Brooke’s mouth, unheeded.

“Lynne, I don’t think I can go through with this,” Brooke gushed, wrapping her arms around herself. “It’s not the right thing to do.”

Lynne had the nerve to look surprised.

“I thought we’d covered this topic thoroughly, Brooke. You and I made a deal. I held up my end of the bargain. Now you’re going to hold up yours. That means not only are you going to marry my son in three weeks’ time, you are going to smile and look happy about it, and be grateful. I think we both know how this could have turned out for you, Brooke. For your whole family.” Lynne paused, cocking her head. “If you want, I can just drop my end of the bargain, too.”

“No!” Brooke said, gulping. “No. I… I don’t want that.”

“I don’t want to hear this from you again. And if Travis gets so much as a hint of this business, I’ll be calling my friend at the newspaper. That will only be the start of your misery. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Brooke said, dropping her gaze and squeezing herself tightly.

Lynne gave Brooke a penetrating glare, then tsked.

“I’m going to call Dr. Preston for you, dear. I really think there must be something more we can do about your melancholy, don’t you?”

Nothing except calling off this wedding
, Brooke thought, but she held her tongue.

Lynne didn’t wait for Brooke to answer. She strode off, leaving Brooke alone and flabbergasted. With a sinking heart, Brooke wondered if Dr. Preston would tell Lynne any of the things Brooke had confessed during her session last week.

I’m not sure about my wedding. I think I am making a mistake. I don’t think I love Travis. I’m scared of my mother in law…

Lynne could be very persuasive. It would serve the woman right if she managed to pry into Brooke’s affairs. Then again, Brooke had said all of those things to Lynne and Travis over the last month or so, admitting her fears about the wedding and the relationship itself. They’d laughed at her, of course.

She remembered Travis’s reaction all too well.
How can it be too soon? We’ve been engaged for six years, dummy.

Of course, that was six years of mostly long-distance dating. Travis had moved to a bigger city to snag a better position as a high-powered litigator. When Brooke offered to move with him, he insisted that she stay in Winter Pass and save as much money as she could instead of splitting a pricey rent bill with Travis. Considering her meager earnings as Winter Pass’s only florist, Brooke could see the sense in that.

Or she had, at the time. The more she thought about it, the less sense Travis’s words made. Almost everything about him was like that. Practical on the surface, but tangled up underneath. For a long time, Brooke hadn’t questioned his logic or his decisions. After all, he was more sometimes-boyfriend than dedicated fiance, swinging into town whenever Winter Pass had a social function that might benefit his career.

When he was gone, Brooke just did her own thing and made her own decisions, which was nice. With her brother serving for the armed forces overseas and her parents gone, Brooke had figured out how to make it through things all on her own.

Now that their wedding was looming, though, Travis and Lynne were in Brooke’s life every minute of the day. Calling the shots, outvoting Brooke at every turn, slowly taking her independence little by little. Not for the first time, Brooke desperately wished she could just run away and never look back.

“Brooke!”

Brooke jumped and turned to find her high school friend Ginger in the dressing room doorway, looking flushed with excitement. Ginger worked at the bridal boutique and usually avoided Brooke like the plague, at least when Lynne was around.

“Hey, Gin,” Brooke said. “Do you think you could unzip me?”

“Absolutely,” Ginger said, walking over and helping Brooke out of her dress. “As long as you re-introduce me to that smoking-hot brother of yours as soon as you’re dressed.”

“My brother?” Brooke asked, stepping out of the dress and letting Ginger sweep it away.

“Yeah. He’s outside with some other army-looking dudes. I would take an intro to
any
of those guys,” Ginger sighed, her lips curving appreciatively.

“Uhhhh….” Brooke stammered, hurrying to pull on her sundress and wedge heels. Both designer gifts from Lynne, who’d insisted on
upgrading
Brooke’s entire wardrobe before the wedding events began.

“He’s here to see you, isn’t he?” Ginger hung Brooke’s dress up and peeked out of the dressing room, then growled. “Awww, he just went into the coffee shop. Brooke, you seriously need to bring him over here. I think he actually got hotter in the last decade somehow…”

Brooke wasn’t listening.

“Catch you later, Gin,” she said, grabbing her purse and half-sprinting out of the bridal shop.

She didn’t bother to stop to talk to Lynne, curiosity driving her toward across Winter Pass’s very small town square. She checked her phone as she walked, reassuring herself that Chase hadn’t called. Maybe Ginger had mistaken someone else for her brother?

When she stepped into Dee’s Coffee and Copies, she knew Ginger wasn’t wrong. Three men stood at the counter, ordering coffee, and they were unmistakable. There was her brother, all tall and blond and scowly. Harlan was there, too, dark and handsome as ever. He held hands with a petite, pretty redhead. She looked familiar… a local girl, maybe, but Brook couldn’t put her finger on the redhead’s name. Brooke was curious about Harlan’s lady friend, but already her gaze was pulling toward the third man in their party.

It could only be Paxton. Brooke could only see him in profile, but she knew every inch of him. He was nearly six and a half feet of rugged, sculpted muscle. Broad shoulders, long legs splayed in that confident stance of his. His tawny brown hair had grown out of its buzz cut, which only made Pax more appealing.

Then Brooke actually saw him tense up. He turned and saw her, and they both froze.

Brooke stared. He had the same proud cheekbones, the same angular jaw. The same aquiline nose, crooked at the bridge from an old break, a tiny flaw that made his appearance compelling rather than merely pretty. Paxton was just as she remembered, a page out of her own history book…

Except one thing. His eyes were… different. Brooke remembered them being a gorgeous, bone-melting topaz color. Granted it was six years ago that she dated Pax, the relationship taking up most of her twenty-first year and then some, but… She’d stared into those eyes so many times that she
still
saw them in her dreams.

Only now, they were bright green. The second Pax’s gaze connected with hers, Brooke shivered, suddenly hot and cold all over, all at once. For a long moment, everything else around her fell away. There was no sound, no sensation, nothing in the entire world but Paxton Elijah Gentry and Brooke Ann Harbin, two souls finding each other after years of being lost.

“Brooke. Brooke!”

Brooke blinked and looked up to find Chase towering over her, hand on her elbow.

“Uh. Hey,” she said, giving him a puzzled frown. “Um.”

“Nice to see you, too,” Chase sighed.

“Right. Sorry,” Brooke said, shaking her head and giving her brother a hug. He embraced her, the touch soothing her deeply in that brief moment, reminding her just how far down she’d slipped since the last time she’d seen her brother.

Since her parents’ funeral, three years ago. The day that sealed her fate, took all the hope she’d ever had for a life that didn’t involve becoming Ms. Travis Marchand.

“Why are you here?” Brooke asked as she pulled back, peering up at her brother. Then she went still, shocked. “Chase… what’s wrong with your eyes?”

She looked over at Harlan, curious. Sure enough, Harlan’s eyes were the same burning, vibrant green.

“Are you guys wearing colored contacts?” she asked, perplexed.

“Ah… nah,” Chase said, shaking his head. “It’s a side effect of the malaria medicine they gave us in Syria.”

Brooke had a strange feeling that Chase was lying, but she couldn’t think why he would be. Also, why would they all be wearing colored contacts? That was stupid.

“Right, sure,” she said. “So… are you on leave? You should have called.”

Chase looked guilty, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand and dropping his gaze for a moment.

“I’ve been back for a minute. A while,” he sighed. “We’re all staying out at the lodge.”

“We?” Brooke’s eyebrows shot up. “As in…”

Her gaze flitted to Harlan, Harlan’s mystery lady, and Pax.

“Yeah, all of us,” Chase admitted.

Brooke’s mouth opened and closed a few times before she could form words. She grabbed Chase’s arm and towed him outside, away from prying ears, before she unleashed on him.

“What the
hell
, Chase! Just how long have you been in town? And why didn’t you call me?”

“It’s… complicated,” her brother grunted, peeling her hand from his arm.

“Is it… is it because of Pax?” Brooke asked, biting her lip. Suddenly, tears welled in her eyes. “Are you avoiding me because I’m marrying Travis?”

Now it was Chase’s turn to look baffled.

“Ah, Brooke,” he said, reaching out and pulling her into a hug. “That’s not it at all, I swear. I didn’t even know you were finally pulling the trigger on that. I kind of thought…”

Brooke sighed as she relaxed into her brother’s arms, feeling comforted for the first time in ages.

“It’s like three weeks away,” she whispered against Chase’s chest.

“Well, hell.” Chase finally pulled back and stared down at her, looking conflicted. “Listen, B, why don’t you come out to the lodge tonight? Harlan and Pax have been helping me fix it up, it’s looking really good. I could grill or something.”

“Oh…” Brooke hesitated, thinking how mad Travis would be if she made plans for him. Or worse, without him. “I don’t know, Chase…”

“Tell your fiance that he has to pass muster,” Chase teased. “If you guys don’t come out tonight, I’m sending Pax to break up the wedding.”

Brooke’s eyes went wide for a long moment before she realized that Chase was obviously teasing.

“You’re terrible,” she said, wrinkling her nose.