Wolf Bite (Wolf Cove #2) (16 page)

When I don’t respond, rough fingers land on my chin and lead
my head toward him more gently than I’d believe Ronan capable. Finally I dare
face his eyes.

“I’m not going to say a word about it.”

I won’t acknowledge his promise, because acknowledging it
would mean he’s right, and maybe he’s still unsure. Maybe he’s like Scott,
trying to trick me into admitting what he can’t otherwise prove.

“Man, he did a real number on you, didn’t he?”

They. They
did a real number on me. I’m pretty sure
I’m going to swear off all men—handsome or not—from now on.

Especially this one.

“Live and learn, right?” I’m learning. Boy, am I learning. I
climb to my feet. “You’ve got your spot back.” My footfalls make a hollow sound
along the dock as I retreat to shore.

“Hey.” His back is still to me. “I’m not as bad as you think
I am. We’ll be friends one day.” All traces of humor are gone from his voice.

“I’m not so sure. Remember, I’ve seen what you do to your
friends.”

He turns to peer over his shoulder at me. “Give yourself
some time. You’ll learn to trust again.”

“Maybe.”

Ronan’s right. He did do a real number on me.

And I’m not talking about Jed.

Chapter Nineteen

July

“Abbi!”

I glance up in time to see Autumn hop over a row of small
boxwoods.

“Look!” She holds up a stack of magazines, but then pulls it
away, eyeing my dirty gardening gloves with a wrinkled nose.

With an eye roll, I pull them off and brush the streak of
soil on my thumb onto my t-shirt. I peeled off my sweatshirt and jacket about
half an hour ago; the late-afternoon sun too hot for layers. “What am I looking
at?”

“Articles about Wolf Cove.”

I flip through the first one, until I come to a full-page
spread of Henry, his piercing blue eyes staring out at me. I instinctively take
a deep, calming breath, as I always do whenever the topic of “Mr. Wolf” so much
as touches anyone’s lips.

I remember these pictures. They’re the ones Hachiro, the
tiny and inappropriate Japanese photographer, took of Henry. It was during
those very brief few days of bliss, after I discovered his attraction to me and
before I learned what a cruel bastard he can be. “Where’d you get this?”

“In the lobby. The hotel shipped a box to us.”

“Huh.... Great pics.” I flip through them, feigning
disinterest, even as I secretly plot an excuse to get to the lobby and steal
myself a copy.

It’s been six weeks since Henry left. I haven’t spoken to
him once. Haven’t heard a word from him. All that I know, I hear either through
Tillie’s passion for gossip or from what’s posted online.

The official handover of Wolf Hotels from William Wolf to Henry
happened immediately following the grand opening here, as Henry said it would.
The newspapers reported it around the same time that they divulged William
Wolf’s dire health situation as potentially one of the reasons for the
accelerated change in ownership.

Henry’s not just officially a billionaire anymore. He’s now
a billionaire many times over and one of the most eligible bachelors in the
world, as this magazine so aptly calls out.

I don’t think most wealthy business guys get this kind of
media attention, but most don’t look like Henry. Plus, he’s really been putting
himself out there as of late, spotted at movie premieres and celebrity-type
events with this model or that actress on his arm. Tillie has nicknamed him
Bruce Wayne, because he’s now flamboyantly acting like the playboy that
everyone has apparently known him to be.

I try to let it not bother me. Every day, I try. I keep
telling myself that it’ll get easier, that I’ll clue in like I did about Jed,
and truly stop caring. After six weeks, the only thing getting easier is being
able to compartmentalize the pain.

“And look at this other one.” Completely clueless to my
personal struggle, Autumn shakes the
Luxury Travel
magazine in my face.
“Remember that evil woman? Well, she wrote a rave review of Wolf Cove. Said it
was one of the best experiences of her life.”

I’ll bet
.

“Since this article dropped last week, our reservations desk
has been going nonstop. Next year is nearly sold out. Can you believe it?”

“That’s great.” I’m not good with faking amusement, and it
shows.

“Hey, red! You almost done with those? I’ve got another one
for you and we need to get them in before we can break for the day.” Ronan
steps over the bushes in his work boots and sets another flat of summer annuals
in front of me to plant.

I could kiss him right now for interrupting this
conversation.

“I’ll let you go. See you in the lodge later?” Autumn says,
collecting the magazines from me. I know she’s going to tuck them away in her
cubby. Unlike me, she and most other women here still live in fantasyland as it
relates to their CEO and hotel chain owner.

“For a bit, yeah.”

Autumn flashes a polite smile at Ronan, but I know it’s
fake. She doesn’t much like him. She doesn’t know the real him. She only knows
the version that I knew early on, and I didn’t much like him then, either.

But things have changed.

“What’d she want?” Ronan leans down to grab the old trays as
I pull my gloves back on. While I love the days when I get to garden, I’m
covered from head to toe in dirt, and I have only three uniforms to last me
through the week.

“Nothing. Just showing me some magazines.”

“About Wolf?”

I hesitate. “Yeah.” While Ronan knows—or strongly
suspects—my secret, he’s kept his word and never mentioned it once. In fact,
we’ve stayed far away from any topic involving Henry.

He sighs under his breath, but I think I hear him murmur, “He’s
an idiot” as he walks away, his cargo pants hugging his impressive backside
well.

It makes me smile. I know Ronan doesn’t harbor a secret
crush on me, for no other reason than I just know. But I also know he’d gladly
sleep with me if I suggested it. That’s something else I just know.

Because I’ve gotten to know both Ronan and Connor well over
the past six weeks.

Every day is the same—I roll
out of bed, throw on my uniform, and spend the day sweating and slaving and
shrugging off their inappropriate jokes. We work long hours and I’m sore by the
time I stagger in to the lodge for dinner, usually followed by a few drinks,
until warmth begins spreading through my limbs and I can forget for just a
while that Henry is gone and hasn’t bothered to call. Not even once. Then I
repeat it all the next day.

Ronan, Connor, and I work together most days, paired up to
do trash runs, firewood collection, and a lot of gardening, me planting and
pruning while those two do the heavy lifting. The odd day that we’re not
together, I don’t have nearly as much fun.

Plus, we eat most of our meals together, and on our days
off, we usually grab a ferry to Homer with the other guys from the crew.

Really, the only time I’m not with Ronan and Connor is when
I’m showering or sleeping, and they’ve both joked plenty about how we may as
well do those things together too.

We’ve formed an odd friendship of sorts, where there is an
underlying and unspoken physical attraction—how can there not be when the guys
looks like Connor and Ronan do—but we’re all happy just hanging out and
laughing while we work.

All day, almost every day. That’s a lot of time to spend
with two guys. You get to see beyond the facade.

Like, for example, Connor loves to toss casual sexual
innuendos at me tirelessly, but when someone else in the crew besides him or
Ronan tries to join in on the teasing, their hackles instantly rise.

And, while Connor impersonates the true player who won’t
commit to one girl, he actually hasn’t messed around with anyone other than
Tillie in the almost two months since they started seeing each other. Or
whatever it is they’re doing, that he won’t officially acknowledge.

On the other hand, Ronan is the quiet player. Everyone knows
what happened between Katie, Rachel, and him, but I’m pretty sure that’s
because of Katie and Rachel. He may like to kiss, but he’s not one to tell. I’ve
caught one or two comments about something that had happened the night before
at the lodge with a girl, but it’s never outright disrespectful.

And they’ve both sort of taken to watching out for me. Connor
always saves a seat in the lodge next to him, and Ronan always brings me a second
coffee in the morning, because one is never enough. They both know my affinity
for sweets, and they take turns surprising me with a chocolate bar or a freshly
baked cookie.

It’s kind of sweet.

And, thought I doubt they realize it, it has been my saving
grace while I wait for my broken, angry, untrusting heart to heal.

~ ~ ~

Ronan and I are pulling up to
the gate with the garden tools just as Connor pulls in, slamming his truck door
shut. Darryl had him doing something with the electric fencing today and he’s
scowling. It’s a rare sight. “You guys ready to go? I could use a drink.”

“Yeah. How was your day?”

“Fine.” He lets out a heavy
sigh and then, throwing his arm around me, he pulls me into his sweaty, dirty
side.

I push hard against him,
prying myself away, fake-gasping. “God! You need a shower!”

Connor lifts his arm up and
smells himself. “Dude, you’re right. I do. So do you. Let’s help each other get
clean.”

“No.”

“I’m serious.” His eyes rake
over my body as if to prove a point.

“So am I.” I smack him in the
chest. “No!”

“You’re missing out.” He
speeds up to join the other guys. That’s how the crew always travels—in packs.

“What’s up with him today?”

Ronan hesitates. He’s not one
for talking about other people. “Him and Tillie got into it last night in the
lodge, and whatever that was, it’s officially over.”

“Really? I had no idea.”
She’s my roommate but to be honest, since I started working with the guys,
there’s been a noticeable rift forming between us. Maybe it’s because I’ve
gotten so close to them. Autumn thinks it’s because she’s jealous. Tillie does
get very jealous, very easily, and she’s not the typical southern belle who’s
good at hiding her bitterness behind a fake smile while she talks behind your
back.

“Yeah. She wanted a label,
and he didn’t. So now....” Ronan rubs the muscles in his tattooed forearm. “Tonight
should be interesting because he’s going to want to get laid.”

“Shit.” Something else that I
never used to do pre-crew and now do almost constantly is cuss.

But this night may deserve it
because I have a feeling I know who will get an extra heavy dose of Connor’s attention.

~ ~ ~

“Drink up!” Connor shoves another shot into my
hand.

I lick the salt sprinkled on my
wrist and tip the glass back, anticipating the tequila burn before it even hits
my throat. It’s even worse than the first time. I cringe as I reach for the
slice of lime in Connor’s hand. But he raises it above his head, a sly grin on
his face. “Open up.”

I’m desperate for that lime
and he knows it. I eagerly part my lips and he slides the slice between them,
the soft pad of his thumb lingering on my bottom lip. His heated gaze is locked
on my mouth as I bite down, the sour lime combating the aftertaste of the
tequila. “That’s a good girl. Now suck hard.”

I punch him in the arm for
good measure, but he just chuckles, reaching over his head to yank his t-shirt off,
revealing that ripped body of his. Every guy in the crew has a body like that,
to one degree or another. Even my body has hardened, my arms taut and shapely,
my abs more defined.

“Alright. On that note, I’m
out.” I always leave—to shower and get a decent night’s sleep—around the time
that the debauchery begins. Which, by Connor’s level of intoxication, was a few
minutes ago. I don’t know how these guys do it day in day out and still manage
to get their butts out of bed for a 7:00 a.m. start. As it is tonight, I’ve only
stayed this long because I wanted to make sure Connor was truly okay with
breaking things off with Tillie.

Tomorrow is going to be a
rough morning.

“No way. You need to stay and
protect me from making a fool of myself.” Connor slings an arm over my shoulder
and pulls me into him, until I’m pressed up against his hot skin. “Come on. Pick
any spot on my body and give it a good lick. It’s a helluva lot more fun than
licking yourself. Well,” His gaze drops to my mouth, and his voice drops a few
octaves along with it. “I enjoy watching you lick yourself, but I’d rather you
lick me. And I won’t expect you to call me in the morning. We’ll never even
talk about it,” Connor taunts with a grin.

I roll my eyes, but there’s a
point in the back of my mind that wonders if maybe I should. It would be very
easy to fall for his charm, especially if I was drunk. He’s attractive, and
it’d be nice to feel something again. Physically, anyway. I know I wouldn’t
have to worry about developing real feelings for him.

I’m pretty sure Henry’s
broken that part of me.

“It’s late and I still need
to shower.” I punch him in the stomach as I squirm away, earning a fake grunt
of pain.

But he holds on tight.
“Please?” Earnest eyes beg me. He holds a shot up.

“Come on, red. Just one,”
Ronan goads.

“You’re not helping,” I
mutter.

“Sure I am. I’m helping him.”
He nods toward his partner in crime.

I heave a sigh. “If I do one,
will you leave me alone?”

“Promise. For tonight, anyway.”
Connor grins mischievously. “Tomorrow’s a brand-new day.”

“Give me that.” I reach for
the shot.

“No way. First. Pick a spot
to lick.”

“Fine. Your forearm.”

“What?” Connor’s face
scrunches up. “That’s not sexy.”

“I’m not trying to be sexy
with you!” I giggle nervously, feeling curious eyes on us from all directions. Maybe
this isn’t a good idea. If Tillie hears about it and gets upset....

“Ronan, pick a spot for the
Abbs.” Another nickname that Connor has started using on me.

“Stomach.” No hesitation.

I roll my eyes; though, given
it’s Ronan, it could have been a lot worse. And Connor’s stomach, well... I’m
staring at it right now and it’s perfect.
Everyone
around here talks
about how sculpted it is, with his eight-pack of ridges and that V-shaped cut
of his pelvis.

And now I’m going to lick it
in front of everyone.

I’m deciding how best to
tackle this when Ronan kicks a chair over with his boot, a silent indication
for me to sit. “Makes it easier for you.”