Wolf Surrender (Wolf Cove Book 4)

by Nina West

  “Tell me about it.”

  “If you had any idea how many times I’ve jerked off to her picture—”

  “Jed!”

  He gives me a sheepish smile and shrug. “What? You don’t think when she’s standing there in her panties and bra posing that she’s not aware what guys are gonna be doing to the end product?”

  “Oh, she’s aware. I’m sure she’d gladly watch,” I mutter under my breath, but not quiet enough.

  Jed’s eyebrows spike.

  “Where’s Mama and Daddy?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “They went into the city. Your dad’s getting the rest of his casts off today.”

  “Really?” Has it been that long since the accident already?

  Jed reaches for the hose. “Yup. Slowly but surely, he’s on the mend. The golf cart you had delivered will be super helpful for him to get around. I think he’s going nuts from being cooped up with Bernadette.”

  I frown. “What golf cart?”

  “The one over there.” He points to the side of the house, where a shiny new black cart is parked.

  “I didn’t...,” I begin to say, but my words drift off as I clue in. Henry. He is, as always, five steps ahead of me. And Jed’s no doubt right—Daddy needs his independence back before Mama drives him to drink.

  Jed begins spraying the soap off the truck.

  “Okay, well, I’ll be in the barn if you need me.” I hope I have enough supplies. My herb garden is severely lacking. I may have to run into town to purchase some of the annuals that I didn’t plant this year, having been in Alaska.

  “So, can I still drive this while you’re home?”

  “Depends how nice you are to me,” I holler over my shoulder, heading for the house to drop off my things.

  I shriek as a spray of cold water from the hose hits my back.

  ~ ~ ~

  The familiar, musty smell of my little workshop in the barn brings me an odd sense of comfort as I wander around, surveying my supplies and making a list of ingredients to rush order. Margo demanded a dozen sample kits, minimum. The packaging should be arriving tomorrow by courier, so at least I’ll have that. It’ll take a few more days to get up and running.

  The soft whirring sound is the only warning I have before I look up to find the golf cart in the middle of the barn, my dad in the driver seat and grinning like a fool. “I thought I heard someone tinkering in here.”

  “Daddy!” I dart around the table and rush to him, trying to be gentle as I wrap my arms around him in a hug.

  He squeezes me back, some of that strength I’ve always associated with him back. “I’ve missed you, girl.”

  “I missed you, too. What did the doctor say?”

  He spends a few minutes giving me the rundown—the lung that collapsed is at about 75 percent, and he’ll need the walking cast for his left leg for another two months, but things are looking up. Then, he slides his hands around the steering wheel of the golf cart. “This was some surprise to come home to,” he begins, in that tone I know too well. It comes with gentle scolding. “These aren’t cheap, Abigail.”

  I offer him a tight smile. “But you need it. It’s giving you some of your independence back, right?”

  “No doubt about that.” His gaze lifts to survey the new roof. “I haven’t actually seen this place up close until now. Looks good. And it was needed, so I appreciate it. But you need to stop spending all your money on me. This cart was too much.”

  I can’t take credit for this and I don’t want to. “Actually, it was as much a surprise to me. Henry arranged for this. I didn’t know he was doing it.”

  “I wondered about that.” He heaves a sigh. “How is he doing?”

  “He’s... Henry. He’s on his way to Barcelona now, and likely Alaska after that to sort out problems with the gold mine.”

  “He’s a hardworking man, that’s for sure.” He hesitates. “Maybe too hardworking?”

  “Maybe,” I agree with a sad smile. “But he’s a hardworking man who I love.”

  “Yes. I’m well aware.” He peers around the kitchen. “So, what are you up to here?”

  I fill Daddy in, just as I did Jed earlier.

  “So you’re actually friends with Margo Lauren now?”

  “Yeah. Why? You know who she is?”

  “Everyone knows who she is, thanks to your mother’s fretting.” He gives me a look and I roll my eyes. “Come on, hop in. She’s waiting for you on the porch.”

  I oblige, settling in next to him on the cushioned bench. He pressed down on the pedal and the cart lurches forward.

  “It’s sure got some kick to it for an electric thing,” he murmurs as we sail out of the barn and down the path toward the house. Sure enough, Mama’s there, in a flowing blue floral dress, her short curly brown hair looking freshly cut. “Maybe let’s not tell her exactly where the cart came from?”

  “As if she doesn’t already have her suspicions.”

  He chuckles. “Oh, no doubt she does.”

  “How’s she doing anyway?”

  “Better, though she was cranky as all hell for about a week, going through caffeine withdrawals. But she’s over that now and your aunt May has been coming by, making sure she’s cooking healthier and getting out for two walks every day. She’s lost about twenty pounds already.”

  “That’s great!” She’s got a long way to go as far as weight is concerned to be healthier, but it’s a good start. “And how is she... otherwise?”

  “Oh... she’s coming around, very slowly. I wouldn’t expect her to welcome Henry with open arms quite yet, but I think she’s finally realizing that the only thing she’s going to succeed at with all this nonsense is driving you away from us.”

  “She could never do that.”

  “I sure hope not.”

  I pat his hand with reassurance as we coast up to the house.

  “Just remember, it’s always coming from a place of love,” he mumbles as the cart comes to a stop.

  Mama sets the watering can down and eases her way down the rickety steps. Her breaths are still labored, but I can see a subtle change in her. The bags under her eyes aren’t so pronounced, her face isn’t quite as swollen. “You heard the doctor, Roger! Your lung is only at 75 percent! What are you doin’, whippin’ around in that thing at warp speed!”

  I lean in to kiss him on the cheek and whisper, “Just remember, it’s always coming from a place of love.” I climb out of the cart. “Hi, Mama!” I offer with as conciliatory a voice as I can.

  “Hello, baby girl. Come here.” She ropes her arms around me, squeezing me tight against her, as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened between us. “You know, getting him that thing so he could go gallivanting around wasn’t the best idea.”

  “I’m sure he needs the freedom.”

  As if to prove his point, he backs up and takes off, hollering over his shoulder, “Going to pick some corn for dinner!”

  “You’re gonna roll that thing! And then what!” Mama screams after him.

  “I’ll make sure he doesn’t, Bernadette!” Jed runs across the field and Daddy slows down just long enough for him to jump in.

  She shakes her head. “See what I have to put up with? That man’s tryin’ to give me a heart attack!”

  I bite my tongue before I remind her that she nearly gave herself a heart attack. Or at least, something that looked like one. “So, how are things around here?”

  “Oh, where do I start....”

  I follow Mama up the steps and into the kitchen as she prattles on about everyone and everything, as if I’ve been gone for two years and not two weeks. So and so is pregnant, so and so is splitting up. “Oh!” Mama exclaims, and then hesitates, as if afraid to tell me. “Celeste said that Jed has been talking to Laura Lox a lot lately.”

  “Really. That’s good. I remember her being nice.” She was a couple years younger than us in school.

  “I suppose so.” Mama sniffs her displeasure as she begins rinsing a hea
d of lettuce in the sink. The truth is, Laura Lox could be an anointed saint and Mama probably wouldn’t approve.

  “Henry wanted me to pass along his thanks for the flowers.”

  There’s an exceptionally long pause, as if Mama is deliberating how to respond. “Yes, well... it’s the least we could do after all he’s done for this family.” She begins shredding the lettuce into a bowl, her back to me.

  I smile to myself.

  Yes, it’s definitely a start.

  Chapter Eight

  “Can you have the samples ready by tomorrow?”

  I do a quick scan of all the molds I’ve filled over the last three days. “I think so.”

  “Perfect! I’ll come and get them.”

  “What?” I frown. “No, I’m in Pennsylvania. It’s too far from New York.”

  “Oui. I will come there.” Margo’s smooth voice fills my ear.

  “I can just courier it to you.”

  “No, I want to see your shop. I want to see where the masterful Abigail creates her pièce de résistance. It must be special.”

  My eyes roam the dusty little room in the hundred-year-old barn that stores our equipment, and then down over myself, at the stained and torn apron that protects my sweats. “I promise you, it’s not all that impressive or masterful.”

  “Impossible. Send me your address.”

  “But—”

  “I will fly out first thing in the morning.”

  Shit. She’s serious. And relentless. Crap. “What time?”

  “Let’s say eleven.” Her musical laughter fills my ear. “But you know me.”

  “Yeah... that could work.” Daddy has physiotherapy in the city tomorrow, and then plans to see some cousins for dinner on the way back. Mama will be with him.

  That would be best.

  ~ ~ ~

  “How’s Barcelona?”

  “Busy and hot, but productive. To be honest, I’ve been on the phone for most of the day, dealing with the press around the gold mine shutdown. The media’s having a field day.”

  “Yeah, I read about it.” Everyone seems interested in what’s to become of the Wolf fortune. Apparently it’s the first time the Wolf gold mine has shut down since it opened, and on the heels of William Wolf’s death, there are plenty of rumors about why. “Has Scott said anything?”

  “Not yet. I’m guessing his lawyers have told him to shut up. The idiot probably doesn’t realize that he could go to jail for some of the shit he pulled. He should be thanking me for taking over, but....”

  I close my eyes and let myself get lost in the deep melodic sound of Henry’s voice, imagining that we’re having this conversation while lying in his bed in New York, my cheek resting against his bare chest.

  “Your dad made the right choice.”

  He sighs. “I know. Still, I can’t help but feel a bit bad for the guy, losing his father who he found out isn’t really his father, and then being all but cut out of the will.”

  “Because he tried to ruin your life.” And made sure my heart got crushed in the process. I scowl. I don’t want to think about Scott Wolf anymore. “How’s everyone doing over there?”

  “Miles looks like hasn’t slept in four days.” He chuckles darkly. “And Belinda is demanding a salary increase.”

  “She probably deserves it.”

  “Are you telling me how to run my business again?” I hear the amusement in his voice. “Speaking of businesses, I hear Margo’s on her way out.”

  “Yeah, she’s insisting.”

  “Are you ready?”

  I eye the dozen Farm Girl branded lavender paper gift bags, filled with freshly made samples and lined up on the table in front of me. They’re such an odd contradiction to the worn wood and rusted metal everywhere else in the barn. “I finished the samples for her, if that’s what you mean.” But ready to have Margo here, in Greenbank Pennsylvania, on my family farm, unintentionally dripping sexuality with her every step, her every word, her every touch?

  I’ve barely slept all night, worrying about it. At least Mama isn’t here. I told them over dinner that Margo Lauren “might” be coming for a visit “soon” and Mama’s jaw just about hit the floor. I’m pretty sure the word “jezebel” was about to fill the kitchen, but then I quickly explained why—that she loved my soaps and wanted to help me sell them at a major retailer—and Mama’s tune changed somewhat, though still with heavy traces of disapproval. “Make sure she doesn’t try to steal your company like she tried to steal your man,” Mama said.

  “Okay, Mama,” I said politely, fighting the eye roll.

  Thankfully, they left for the city an hour ago, with no idea that “soon” meant today.

  “Trust her. She knows what she’s doing. You can use the article in your website.”

  I frown. “Wait. What article?”

  “The one her friend is going to write.” A pause. “What exactly did Margo tell you?”

  “That she wanted to come see where I work?” Wariness creeps down my spine. “Why?”

  Henry chuckles. “Margo’s bringing Ryan McCleary to write a piece about you for Ares. It’s an indie business magazine with a huge reach.”

  “What? Do you mean like a journalist?”

  “You could call him that. And likely a photographer. Being featured in there will put your name on the map.”

  “Oh my God. You’re kidding, right?”

  “No.”

  I let out a small cry of panic. I cleaned the space up, figuring Margo would take a quick stroll and then be done with it. It’s nowhere near ready for a photographer, though. And me.... It’s 10:00 a.m. and I haven’t even showered, and Margo is surprising me with some magazine writer!

  “Nailed It is already working on your website for you, right?” Henry asks, switching tops as my mind is still tangled up in this latest surprise.

  “Uh….” When Zaheera mentioned creating a website for me last week, I laughed and told her that the people who buy my soap in Greenbank aren’t going to look me up on a website.

  “Abbi.”

  “Soon! They’ll start soon.”

  “And make sure they’ve already started the copyrighting process.”

  “Copyrighting?”

  “They can send it directly to my lawyers. And they should already have started on the regulatory testing process.”

  “Regulatory testing?”

  “That’s going to take a while, so don’t waste another day. Ryan’s likely going to ask you about me, but don’t give him too much. This article is about you and your venture.”

  “Okay. Slow down!” My head is about to explode. “This place is a disaster! I am a disaster! I can’t have some guy from a magazine here to take pictures! And answering questions? What kind of questions? Why the hell did she tell you about this and not me?”

  “Probably because of the way you’re panicking right now. Relax. You can do this. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Says the guy who just said this was a huge opportunity for me.” My stomach is in knots. As much as I don’t want to end my call with Henry, I need to get moving if I have a hope in hell of being ready.

  “I have full confidence in you, Abbi. The article will be great. Margo will make sure of it.”

  I heave a sigh. “I’ve gotta go. Have you figured out when you’ll be back in New York?”

  “For the Wolf charity golf tournament next week.”

  “Really?” Despite my anxiety, excitement sparks. That’s sooner than I had expected.

  “Yeah. My dad always represented the company, but now... I need to.” He pauses. “I need you there with me.”

  “Of course. Yes, whatever you need. Except I don’t golf.”

  “You don’t have to.” I hear the amusement in his voice.

  “Okay. I’ve gotta go now. I miss you.” I hesitate. “I love you.”

  There’s a long pause, and when he speaks, his tone is softer. “Call me later.”

  I spend another twenty minutes tidying things and c
leaning the old woodstove before rushing out the barn door toward home.

  And plow right into Jed.

  “Whoa! Slow down.”

  “I can’t! Margo’s going to be here in an hour and I still have to shower.” I frown as I take him in. “What the hell happened to you?” When I saw Jed at eight this morning and told him that Margo was coming, he was wearing his usual dirty worn jeans and t-shirt. But he’s since showered and traded them in for a white button-down and tie, and dark wash jeans.

  And he’s had his hair trimmed. It’s still shaggy, but now it looks more stylish.

  He grins sheepishly. “It’s not every day a supermodel shows up in Greenbank.”

  “So now what? You’re going to bale hay like that?”

  He shrugs. “I’ll figure something out.”

  I roll my eyes. “Well, at least you’re ready for her,” I mutter, running toward home.

  ~ ~ ~

  “This farm is as precious as I imagined!” Margo smiles at me as she climbs out of the driver seat of a silver Jaguar. She’s wearing a relatively modest plum-colored maxi dress that’s so long, the bottom brushes the dirt driveway, quickly coating the hem in dust. She doesn’t seem at all fazed by it as she heads straight for me to take my hands and offer me her signature two-cheek kiss. “It’s so good to see you again.”

  The passenger door opens and a handsome man climbs out. He’s tall—well over six feet—and, though on the thin side, defined with muscle.

  “Abigail, meet my friend Ryan.”

  He rounds the front of the car with a bit of a hop to his step, rushing over to extend his hand. “Hi, Abigail. I’ve heard so much about you from Margo. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m looking forward to writing this article.” In his bright hazel eyes, I see only eagerness.

  “Welcome!” I spear Margo with a look.

  “Would you mind terribly if I stole a moment alone with Abigail?” She bats her long lashes up at Ryan.

  He smiles down at her, his desire for her blatant. “I’ll call to see how far away Ethan and the others are.”

  Margo loops her arm through mine. “We will begin walking and meet you at the barn.”

  “What others?” I hiss.

  “This way, yes?” she asks, leading me down the path. “Ethan, the photographer; Jolene, who will help spruce up the set. And, of course, Morgan and Bonnie. They will make your already beautiful face shine.”