Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Hors d’oeuvres are ready, and the tenderloin is in the oven. It will be a magazine-worthy night,” Raj assures me. “Everything is taken care of, and your guests will start arriving in less than an hour.”
“What?” I check the clock on the wall, the time escaping me. But he’s right. “Where’s Henry?”
“I wouldn’t worry about him.” Raj looks pointedly at my sweatpants.
“Right. I should do something about this.”
“You really should.”
I grin. “I’m sorry for being crazy. I’m meeting these guys for the first time, and I just want tonight to be—”
“Perfect, I know.” He smiles patiently. “And it will be, unless you start doing that.” He playfully swats my hand away from my freshly manicured nails.
“Thank you!” I sprint up the stairs and peel off my clothes. Waiting for me in a garment bag is a fitted black dress and stilettos Margo had couriered from a New York designer when I lamented that I didn’t know what to wear. I slip into the full outfit, including the shoes—in a pitiful attempt to break them in before tonight—and study myself in the full-length mirror, satisfied. As usual, she knows what will look good on me. I’m glad someone does.
Thankfully, I snuck away long enough this morning for a blowout, so my hair is sleek and smooth. I wish I’d hired someone to do my makeup. I’m still very much in the learning stages after a lifetime of embracing “a wholesome look” at Mama’s and Jed’s behest.
I still shake my head at all the ways I’ve been under my mother’s thumb. Aunt May is right—the sooner she learns that the days of having a say in how I live my life are over, the better for everyone involved.
My phone chirps with an incoming text as I’m about to tackle eyeshadow.
Ronan: A journalist is sniffing around. He’s looking for a story about you and the wolf.
I curse.
Abbi: Was it Luca?
I texted Ronan after that guy called.
Ronan: No. Frank. Or Hank. I can’t remember.
Seeing as there’s no Luca at the Tribune, maybe he’s dropping fake names.
Abbi: It could be the same guy. What’d you tell him?
My phone rings and Ronan’s name appears on the screen.
“I told him to suck my dick,” Ronan’s gravelly voice fills my ear before I can say hello.
I smile as I throw the call on speaker. Ronan isn’t intimidated by anyone, not even Henry, who could legitimately make his life hell. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.” His tone softens immediately. “I haven’t heard your voice in forever.”
“It’s only been a couple of weeks.” My cheeks flush with the reminder of the last time we saw each other, just before Ronan left Henry and me alone in the bedroom of Penthouse Cabin One. He said he’d never forget that night.
The truth is, neither will I.
I would never choose Ronan over Henry. Never. You could ask me a thousand times and I would only ever have one answer: Henry is all I’ll ever want. And yet Ronan was a lifeline during the darkest months of the summer, when my heart had been shattered, the pain a hundred times more than anything I felt after Jed broke it. Our friendship may be unconventional, but it’s ours. Keeping him in my life is important to me.
“How’s Miami?” With the Alaska location shut down for the season, the staff has retreated to their previous lives. In Ronan’s case, it’s back to Florida, where he shares a condo with Connor.
“Boring, but balmy.”
“Are you staying out of trouble?”
“Define trouble.” There’s a hint of teasing in his voice.
“I can’t. My imagination isn’t that dirty.” Henry keeps calling Ronan and Connor deviants. Given the things they got up to at Wolf Cove after I left—namely their little fuck club experiment—the nickname might not be too far off.
“I think your imagination is just fine, Red.”
I smile as I blend a smoky shadow at the corners of my eyelids. He’s the only one who calls me Red, and I like it that way. “Did this reporter leave you a number?”
“Nope. Unknown caller. Kept calling back until I answered.” Ronan snorts. “The balls he has. How did this asshole get my number, anyway?”
“Probably from whoever’s feeding him all this information.”
“My money’s on Tillie.”
“Yeah, I’m thinking the same.” It has to be her. She’s a gossip vampire who feels she’s been spurned by me, though I’ve never done anything to her. Yes, Connor flirted with me while they were hooking up, but Connor flirts with everyone. But I think it’s all driven by jealousy because I’m with Henry, and she had no idea. If there is one thing Tillie was never shy about admitting, it was how happy she would be to climb into the big bad wolf’s bed. “She doesn’t know anything, though.” Nothing for sure. “Deny everything. We’re just friends.”
“We are just friends, aren’t we?”