Wolf Bite (Wolf Cove #2)

by Nina West

  Scott smiles easily up at him, as if the noticeable height difference—at least six inches, I’d peg Scott at five foot eight—doesn’t bother him in the least. “I wasn’t going to, but with the nightmare our company is facing thanks to you, I thought it would be wise.”

  “Right.” Henry’s tone drips with irritation. “Belinda has you both set up in the main lodge. We need the cabins for media this weekend.”

  “Is that where you’re staying?” The scornful smirk on Scott’s face tells me he already knows the answer and is just trying to stir the pot.

  Henry simply glares at him.

  God, the tension radiating around these three men is enough to choke a horse.

  Henry turns slightly toward me. “That’ll be all, Abbi.”

  Up until now, I’ve felt like an invisible bystander. Thankfully. But now two fresh sets of eyes have landed on me and are sliding over my body, scrutinizing every curve.

  “Yes, Mr. Wolf.” I dart around them, happy to get far away.

  From behind me, I hear his father ask, “Who is that?”

  “Her name is Abbi Mitchell,” Henry answers calmly.

  There’s a pause and then, “You’re kidding me. Right? Is this a joke?”

  I’m around the bend and, thankfully, out of earshot of Henry’s answer.

  Chapter Five

  The maintenance truck chugs along the service road, splashing through the ruts. Rain swept through the area in the early hours, leaving puddles that likely won’t dry out for days, thanks to the cool spring temps.

  In the back of the truck are two mattresses stacked side by side, still in their packaging. It’s heading toward the gates, so I have to assume it’s going to the cabin. There’s really nowhere else for anyone to go.

  A stir of nerves flutters in my stomach as I take in the two male figures sitting inside. I can’t see their faces but I can feel their eyes on me all the way from here as I wait for them. I’ve always been nervous under the scrutiny of males. Or anyone, really. I’m not one for attention.

  Hugging my body against the spring chill, I distract myself while I wait by focusing on the decorative fence and hedge that hides the “work” part of the property from the magical guest side. It’s like the Wizard of Oz here, with all service areas well hidden from guests’ view by curtains of one kind or another.

  The truck comes to a squeaky stop in front of me.

  “Well, if it isn’t the Wolf’s right hand,” Connor drawls, his brawny arm resting against the open window, grinning at me from behind aviator glasses. He’s wearing the Wolf Cove t-shirt and seems unbothered by the cool air. I shouldn’t be surprised given when I met him—the first night I was here—he was flaunting that body of his through the staff village in nothing but a towel, fresh from the shower room.

  A guy sits beside him who I’ve never met, but I’ve noticed with Connor plenty. He has haunting green eyes and buzzed dark hair, and seems to gain as much notice from the female staff as Connor does when he swaggers through the dining hall. I’m pretty sure the two of them are roommates. They’re definitely attached at the hip.

  “You waiting for us, boss?”

  I burst out in a giggle, unexpectedly. “Boss?”

  He shrugs and lifts his sunglasses. Pretty blue eyes the color of cornflowers dip down my cleavage. Thank God for this blazer, at least. “Like I said, you’re Wolf’s right hand. That gives you a lot of power around here.”

  I can’t help but sense he’s implying something sexual with that hand reference. Seeing as I know exactly where mine have been lately, I guess he wouldn’t be wrong. “Is there any chance you could give me a ride over to the Wolf cabin?”

  He opens the door and slides out, his poorly laced construction boots hitting the dirt with a thud. “Perfect timing. Hop in.”

  ~ ~ ~

  “I didn’t know you could get here by road.”

  “Road” may not be the right word for this, I accept, as I struggle to stay in my seat, sandwiched between these two guys, my arms folded across my chest to help alleviate the jolt of pain every time we hit a rough patch. I’m used to driving farm trucks over bumpy lanes, but this is a claustrophobic one-lane path through dense bush, with tree branches scratching against the truck’s paint most of the way.

  “They cleared it three years ago when they started building the hotel. It’s meant for maintenance, which is why it’s not in the best shape. Best to come through here on an ATV, to be honest. It’s too narrow for more than one car and it’s a real bitch when you get halfway down and meet another truck.”

  “That happened this morning. That’s why we’re using these now.” The other guy, Ronan, holds up the maintenance crew walkie-talkie that he radioed in to before we turned down the entrance, telling everyone on the frequency that we were heading in.

  “I guess people aren’t meant to drive to this cabin.” I never noticed the entrance the day Henry and I went out to cut wood, but I’m not surprised. The trees form an effective canopy to hide the newly built road. Plus, I was entirely distracted by Henry.

  “No, all these places around here are water entry only,” Connor agrees.

  They’re supposed to come up in their boats, look up and marvel at the rustic cabin Henry’s grandfather, the great and powerful gold mine and luxury hotel chain owner, built himself sixty years ago. Just like we did, yesterday.

  We hit an especially bad pothole and I wince, the pain jarring to my chest. “How much longer?”

  “Another minute or two.”

  “Can you try to avoid the bumps? It can’t be good for the mattresses.”

  “I’m trying my best, hun.” I feel Connor’s sideways glance on me, on my chest, and my cheeks flush. It feels like high school track and field all over again, with the girls running laps and the boys watching from the bleachers. I made the mistake of asking Jed once why they liked to hang out there and he explained the appeal of large-breasted girls and bouncing.

  I’m beginning to think Connor’s hitting these bumps intentionally.

  “So, how’s life under the big man?”

  Stressful.

  Amazing.

  Disastrous.

  Enlightening.

  Frustrating.

  What’s the right answer? All of the above?

  I offer a weak smile to no one in particular. “It’s fine.”

  “Is he really the asshole everyone is saying he is?” Ronan asks, reaching up with a muscular tattooed arm to grip the handle above his door. He has a deep, raspy voice, the kind you’d expect to hear when a guy first wakes up.

  “Is that what they’re saying?”

  “After canning Rachel like he did? She spent over a grand of her own money on a ticket to get here and he fires her for doing her job, which is appeasing the guests. So, hell yeah. Dick move by a spineless dickhead.”

  Rachel. One of my five roommates, who was literally walked off the property and sent home on the ferry for giving away free high-end alcohol and sleeping with a guest.

  Henry once told me to not defend him, to agree with the verbal swings at him. Otherwise people might start suspecting what was going on between us. I don’t know if that’s such a good idea now, given this mess with Kiera. He doesn’t need an army of angry employees calling for his head if this thing blows up.

  “He’s not the worst. He’s strict, but he’s fair.” I shrug. “He’s been decent enough to me, I guess. When I don’t screw up.” I want off the topic of Henry. “What about you guys? How’s the Outdoor crew?”

  “Great group. They have us working hard but we have a lot of fun, too,” Connor says, his hand scratching over the day-old blond stubble on his chin. There’s an entire page on male grooming requirements in the employee handbook that specifies men must be either clean-shaven or keep a neatly trimmed beard. There are also rules about covering up tattoos but Ronan’s not too concerned about that. I’m guessing the rules don’t apply to these guys.

  “You know, I was actually hired to be in
the Outdoor crew.” Seems crazy just thinking about it now.

  “No shit.” I turn to smile at Connor, in time to see his eyes flittering over my body, sizing me up. “So, what happened?”

  Henry happened. “Nothing really. This other job came up and it seemed like a good opportunity. But I still miss being outdoors.” Truthfully, if Henry and I weren’t doing what we’re doing, I’m afraid I’d be miserable.

  “You should take a sabbatical.”

  I laugh. “A sabbatical?”

  “Yeah, a paid leave for study.”

  “I know what one is. I just don’t see how you figure I should get one.”

  “From your current job. Just for a week.”

  “I can’t just ask for a week off to ‘study’ in another department.” I use fingers to air quote Connor’s ridiculous notion of studying the Outdoor crew.

  “Sure you can. You’re above the law around these parts. You can do whatever you want.”

  I snort. “Yeah, right.”

  “Come on. Come and work with us. It’ll be fun.” Connor grins. “There are some great opportunities with us, too. You’d learn lots.”

  On my other side, Ronan muffles his laughter with his hand, while gazing out his side window.

  Tillie warned me that Connor would have my pants off by noon with his charm if I were working with him. While I don’t necessarily agree with her, I think I can see why she’d say that. He has an easy way about him, much like Jed has. Though Jed was never overtly sexual. Not with me, anyway.

  I’m sure he’s plenty sexual with his new girlfriend, Cammie.

  I can’t help but smile at Connor’s cheekiness. “Yeah, I’ll bet.”

  We round a bend in the road and the cabin comes into view, first in breaks in the trees, and then, as we get closer, the full looming building, cast in shadows from towering trees.

  “That one’s gotta come down soon.” Ronan points to a dead birch.

  “Tell Darryl. Wolf won’t let us touch a single tree without permission. Kind of ironic, don’t you think, given the forest raping he did down the road.” Connor throws the truck into reverse and then, stretching his arm over the back of the seat behind me to navigate, his giant, firm body twists into me as he backs up toward the door. “All right. We’re here.” He shuts off the engine and both guys climb out.

  I move to follow out Connor’s side when he stops me with his hands on my knees, the heat from them searing my skin through my nylons. “Whoa. Not so fast. Do you want to lose your shoes?”

  I look down to see the foot-deep ruts of thick mud where truck tires have torn the soft spring ground. Crap.

  “Here. Let me help you.” Before I know what’s happening, Connor’s hands are around my waist and he’s lifting me up. I yelp as he pulls me to him, roping one arm around my hips. I fall into him, struggling to keep my balance and not shove my breasts in his face, an impossible feat. He hugs me to his body tight as he carries me toward the porch.

  “Took you long enough.” Tillie stands by the door, arms crossed over her chest, duster in her hand, with a pinched look on her face as she watches us.

  “Had to move a lot of stuff to get to these,” Ronan explains. He drops the tailgate on the truck with a loud clatter.

  “By the way, I really like what you did with your hair,” Connor murmurs, setting me gently onto the porch, the hand around my waist giving me a light squeeze. With a wink, he trudges back through the mud to help Ronan.

  “You are takin’ off those dirty ol’ boots before you step foot inside here, ya hear!” Tillie warns in her heavy southern twang.

  “Yes, ma’am!” they both parrot, the muscles in their backs straining as they hoist the first mattress.

  Tillie turns to me. “Wolf finally untied you?”

  I feel my face blanch. “What?” How does she know?

  “We thought he had you chained up or somethin’. You’ve been scarce as a ghost.”

  “Oh!” I force a laugh as relief hits me. “Yeah. It’s been busy.”

  “What are you doin’ here?”

  I shrug. “Mr. Wolf wanted me here to make sure things were on track.”

  She snorts and disappears into the cabin.

  Chapter Six

  “How much more is there left to do?” I glance over my shoulder at Tillie and another staffer, Bellamy—Bell for short—as they stretch a crisp white sheet over the master bed.

  “What’s the matter? Not as exciting as watchin’ the big, bad wolf fire people?” Tillie says, throwing a smirk over her shoulder. She’s been casting off little snipes like that all afternoon. I can’t help but feel like some of them are directed at me, simply through association. Or maybe I’m just overly sensitive to anything negative Henry-related.

  “Starving,” I murmur, dragging the duster along the dark corners where the walls meet the ceiling, catching any last remaining cobwebs along the way. I’m not exactly dressed for heavy-duty cleaning. I peeled off my jacket and untucked my blouse, making it a little easier to help.

  “Well, it’s no wonder. You shoulda eaten when they brought over dinner.”

  “I wasn’t hungry then.” I was too worried about Henry and what is happening back at the hotel. I’m still worried, but hunger pains are finally winning out.

  “There are probably some scraps left, if those savages downstairs haven’t devoured it all. Or you could make a run back to the hotel in the truck.”

  Driving alone on that road? No thanks. “I can wait a bit longer.” I toss the duster into the cleaning supply bucket and scan my phone for a text from Henry that I already know hasn’t come. I’ve been at this house all afternoon. It’s now after 9:00 p.m. and the sun is beginning to set—Alaskan summers are still something to get used to—and Henry hasn’t called or messaged me once. I’ve been managing his e-mail as best as I can from my phone, though I’d rather be on my laptop.

  What did his father say after I left? Has the media heard about the wrongful dismissal suit yet? How fast do things like that spread?

  I know nothing, I remind myself. Absolutely nothing, should anyone ask.

  Which reminds me...

  Pulling my personal phone out of my pocket, I open up the text thread from Jed. I really don’t want to message him, but I told Henry I would and it’s a good idea to get it over with now. Still, I won’t acknowledge his last message to me, about how he’s been thinking about me. So instead, I go for casual conversation:

  How are things back home?

  I have no idea if he’s still up, given Pennsylvania is four hours ahead. He has always been a night owl but he has a full-time summer job that he has to be up early for so I don’t know if—

  Three dots start bouncing on the screen.

  Same ol’ Greenbank. Nothing much has changed.

  A second message comes shortly after:

  Way more exciting up there, I’ll bet.

  I bite the inside of my mouth to hide my smile, even though he can’t see me. You have no idea.

  It has its moments. The grand opening is this weekend so there are all kinds of magazine reporters and other important people. Working lots.

  I need to do damage control for that text Henry sent on my behalf, but I don’t want it to be obvious that that’s what I’m doing.

  How are you managing with your boss?

  Fine. He’s so busy, I barely see him. Honestly, I was just kidding about what I said before. I mean, he’s an asshole but he barely even looks at me.

  I can’t bring myself to add the last part, about how I was just trying to make Jed nervous. That makes me sound weak and like I want him back. I know now, without a doubt, that I don’t want Jed back, ever.

  Oh, good. I’m glad. You had me worried. You’re such a sweet girl, Abigail. I wouldn’t want anyone taking advantage of you.

  I can’t keep the snort from escaping me. Someone like you, Jed? Asking me to hold out and save myself for him, that he was just “sowing his wild oats.” Now, seeing it from the outside, it makes
me sick. It makes me grit my teeth with anger.

  “What’s up?” Tillie asks, dropping the pillows into their cases.

  “Nothing.” I put my phone away, no interest in carrying on the conversation. My purpose for texting Jed is over. I take in the bedroom now that it’s dressed, so to speak. “This place looks amazing.” The housekeeping staff that’s been working here all day have done an incredible job, transforming the cabin from a dusty, desolate space to a cozy and rustic getaway. Yesterday, it was empty except for a few random dusty dressers and side tables. Today, each room has a bed—pulled from the excess supply room at the hotel. John, the old man who drives the ferry, showed up with a dark leather couch and armchair set and a harvest table around dinner time, hauled all the way from a furniture store in Homer. Between the new furniture, the crisp towels and bedding, a few new lamps and rugs and other accessories, you’d never know that it was all but abandoned only twenty-four hours ago.

  “Paige warned us to bust our asses and make this place shine. God knows what would happen to us if we didn’t. Probably be ridin’ the ferry with our belongings, just like Rachel.” Tillie fluffs the pillows with firm smacks before dropping them onto the bed to arrange them neatly, the bitterness in her voice obvious.

  “It seems like a lot of people are angry about Rachel.”

  “Honestly? It’s a great big ol’ pile of bullshit is what it is. I mean, come on! This is the hotel industry for God’s sakes! Everyone sleeps with everyone, especially round here. Put a bunch of hot-blooded men with attractive women in a village of cabins and what do you expect!” Tillie’s southern twang really kicks in when she’s passionate about something. I would probably enjoy listening to her, if it wasn’t Henry’s head on her pike.

  “She didn’t sleep with a coworker. She was with a guest.” Do not defend. Do not defend.

  “And who do you think Wolf is sleeping with up here, because don’t tell me he’s not gonna get his dick wet the entire summer. If it ain’t his staff, then it’s the hotel guests, too. And how does that look? Man runs the whole damn chain and beds his paying customers, but goes all big brother on his staff when they’re off shift. It all reeks of hypocrisy, if you ask me. ’Specially when his own assistant is using the spa and pissing guests off, and gets off with nothin’.”