Four Weddings and a Werewolf swp-2

by Kristin Miller

  “Last night, did we…you know,” she said.

  That was the reason she was so tense.

  “I drove you back to the hotel, used your key to let us in, tucked you in bed, and left. That’s it.”

  “But I was in my pajamas,” she said as the elevator zipped them up. “You changed me out of my clothes.”

  “Perk of being the DD.” He chuckled. “I looked away. Swear. Cocoa was my witness.”

  “Don’t drag Cocoa into this.” Her voice was stern, but a smile was curving the corners of her lips.

  “Listen, about last night—”

  “Don’t, Logan,” she interrupted, putting up her hands. “Don’t start. Let’s drop it. I drank too much, and whatever I said was probably grossly exaggerated.”

  “Okay.” He stared at the mirrored panels inside the elevator, then pointed to the reflections around them. “These would’ve been nice to have last time.”

  “I said don’t.”

  He shrugged. “Just saying.”

  As the doors peeled apart, Veronica practically spilled out onto the burgundy-carpeted floor. Biting back a laugh, Logan followed her out. She veered left and picked up her pace, as if she wanted to put as much space between them as possible.

  The Starlight Tower Club was stunning, with wraparound windows that allowed an unobstructed panoramic view of downtown Seattle. The floor opened up into an elegant dining hall that was spacious and packed to the limit. The place was hoppin’. Each table occupied by people lost in private conversation and delicious-smelling food.

  “See anyone you know?” Logan asked, checking out the sparkling waters of the Puget Sound.

  “Not yet. We’re part of the McKenna party,” Veronica said to the hostess as they approached a counter that separated the foyer from the rest of the room. “Has everyone else already arrived?”

  “They’re in the private party room in back.” The hostess pulled at a tiny mic on her lapel. “Two more for the McKenna party.”

  Logan rapped his fingers against the counter. “Any idea how many of my friends will be here tonight?”

  “Enough,” Veronica said, tilting her head at him. “More than enough.”

  …

  Too many, in Veronica’s opinion. This evening was going to go smoothly, she’d make sure of it. She couldn’t afford loose cannon packmates who wanted to drink up, lose control, and get hairy and stupid.

  Why wouldn’t the Advil kick in already? Her migraine had teeth. Mangled ones that were digging into her skull. She didn’t drink that much last night. She remembered Roxanne the chipmunk, Harold the Seahawks fan, and Logan the…kindhearted?

  So he was hot. And surprisingly generous. He was still a werewolf, and they had undeniable anger issues.

  “This way,” the hostess said, and led them across the restaurant to a private section. A curtain separated the McKenna party from the rest of Starlight’s patrons, and for that, Veronica was thankful. There could be up to twenty packmates together in one room; there was no way to tell how this was going to go.

  Veronica stopped just inside their private area. About twenty people—some she knew, some she’d never met—turned her way. They were standing around a long table, hovering with their hands on the back of the chairs, looking as if they were waiting to be told where to sit.

  “Thank you, everyone, for being here tonight,” Veronica announced, clasping her hands in front of her. “I have good news and bad news.”

  A few people groaned. Those were probably the wolves. She tried not to roll her eyes as she continued. “The bad news is that Leah and Jake aren’t coming tonight. There was some sort of plane trouble, but they caught a different flight that’ll land around midnight. They want to thank everyone for being here and supporting them, and promise to see you tomorrow morning at the wedding.” She twisted around, making sure to make eye contact with each person in the room. “The good news is that dinner and drinks are on them. Let’s have a great time, get to know one another better, and in two hours we’ll meet on the top floor for the rehearsal.”

  A group of rugged-looking men slid into seats directly in front of them, all except for Logan, who waited for Veronica to find her place first. A handful of women Veronica recognized as bridesmaids sat together on the opposite side of the table. A few of the women were Leah’s high school friends, but others Veronica had never met. Writing friends, maybe? They were glammed up in dresses of all colors and styles, and the men were striking in black and gray suits. But beneath it all, Veronica knew they were wolves in designer clothing. It was too bad she didn’t know which from which.

  “Here you go,” Logan said, pulling out a chair on the end for her.

  “Thank you.”

  Don’t get used to this. Don’t get used to him.

  Sitting next to her, Logan leaned close and whispered, “Calm down and take a deep breath. No one’s going to get stupid tonight.”

  “Promise?” She laughed and tipped back the sparkling water in front of her. “Because I really don’t need the stress.”

  “Excuse me.” A guy at the end of the table snapped his fingers at the waitress, attracting Veronica’s attention. He looked to be thirty, though who knew how old werewolves really were. “Three vodka tonics for me and my friends. There’s an extra dollar in it for you if those drinks come with a shake!”

  As the guys erupted into laughter, Veronica exhaled heavily and stared straight ahead. “One of your friends, I presume?”

  Logan leaned back so he could see around her. “Nope. Must be relatives of yours.”

  “Leah’s the only relative I’ve got. Everyone else here is either a friend or member of Jake’s family. Ugh, those guys reek of beer. I can smell ’em from here. Who comes to a wedding rehearsal blitzed?”

  “Idiots looking for trouble.”

  Veronica blew out an exasperated breath.

  Keep it together.

  Logan unfolded the menu in front of him, but didn’t cast a glance at his options. Instead, his gaze went to the four men situated around the far end of the table. His lips twitched and his jaw clenched. And then his gaze returned front and center. “I don’t know who brought the moron crew, but those guys sitting at the head of the table, and wrapping around the other side…I claim them.”

  “Oh,” Veronica said, not really knowing what else to say. His packmates didn’t look how she expected them to. They seemed…completely normal. Handsome. Classy, even.

  As the waitress brought water carafes for the center of the table, a couple daiquiris for the bridesmaids, and three vodka tonics for the idiot bunch, Veronica forced herself to focus on whether she was going to order fettuccine Alfredo or chicken Parmesan. She was so hungry she could almost taste the roasted garlic now…

  “Hey sweetness,” one of the guys with the vodkas yelled too loudly. “I wrote my phone number on the back of that dollar bill. Just for you.”

  Gag.

  “They must be Jake’s friends from college or something,” she said. “Have to be.”

  After the waitress circled the table collecting orders, Logan swiveled around in his chair so that he was facing Veronica. “Do you want me to take care of them now, or wait until they do something worth dragging them out?”

  Veronica shook her head and stared at the end of the table, where Logan’s packmates were sitting…and talking quietly among themselves. It was an odd scene: Jake’s friends acting like fools and the wolves minding their own business. It wasn’t what Veronica expected and took more than a second to wrap her brain around.

  “I’d rather not make a scene,” she said, but it was too late.

  One of the bozos clumsily pushed out his chair. It toppled. Thunked to the floor. Laughing in a string of drunken hoots, the idiot fell to his backside and dragged the tablecloth along with him. Dishes and glasses on the far side of the table slid to the floor, crashing into a clanging pile.

  Logan braced Veronica’s shoulder as she pulled her hand to her mouth to smother a gasp. The
idiot’s friends helped him up, but they weren’t the only ones to put hands on him. Two of Logan’s packmates had swept behind the idiot and clutched him by the scruff of his collar.

  “No, no, wait!” Veronica said, before the scene went horribly wrong. The guy was drunk and acting foolish, but he didn’t know who he was messing with. If he pissed off the packmates, they’d be unable to control themselves and the restaurant would have a handful of wolves trampling over guests and tables alike.

  The whole thing went haywire, and Veronica was powerless to stop it.

  “Get your hands off me,” the drunk gritted through clenched teeth.

  “You apologize to the ladies for ruining their dinner and I’ll let go.” The packmate hoisting him by his collar raised him high. He radiated power. “Do it.”

  The idiot’s buddies puffed up, their shoulders pulling back as if readying for a fight. The ladies across the table gasped and whispered, but Veronica couldn’t tell if they were worried about their dates or admiring the show of chivalry from Logan’s packmate.

  “I’m sorry,” the idiot said, doing a quick scan around the table. “Now get your hands off my threads.”

  The packmate glanced at Logan. Logan must’ve nodded behind her, because he released his grip on the idiot and turned back to his seat. He didn’t make it two steps. The idiot took a cheap shot, and kicked right between the packmate’s legs. He groaned and hit the carpet, clutching his family jewels.

  There should’ve been screaming. Fighting. Clawing. Wolf hair flying through the room as every packmate shifted to avenge his friend.

  Instead, Logan stole behind the drunken fool and snatched his arms, twisting them behind his back. The guy seemed to be fighting, squirming, and spitting, but he wasn’t getting anywhere. In fact, once Logan had a hold of him, it looked like the guy was barely able to move a muscle. Logan’s packmates followed his lead, holding the other idiots in the same arresting maneuver.

  “I apologize for the scene here tonight,” Logan said calmly, holding the idiot with one hand. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take out the trash. We’ll return shortly.”

  As they left the private room, the remaining bridal party returned to their seats and started talking again like nothing had happened. A waitress and busboy cleaned up the mess and re-set the table. The tension in the room deflated and the air returned to Veronica’s lungs.

  It took her a couple seconds to register what had just happened.

  Despite some idiot’s cheap shot, Logan’s friends held it together. They didn’t shift. They didn’t fight back. If someone kicked Jake in the crotch, and Leah were here to see it, she would’ve come unglued and rightly so. Likewise, if someone hurt Leah, Veronica would’ve jumped down his throat. Yet these wolves exhibited insane levels of self-control.

  What the hell was going on?

  The packmates had a greater rein on their self-control than she’d given them credit for.

  She couldn’t help but feel that the monsters in the room weren’t the ones who could shift into howling canines. The monsters were the men who should’ve known better. The real men were the ones who did.

  Damn it, she’d been prejudiced against every werewolf she’d ever met simply because one had attacked her sister. She’d dated men who were pigs, hung out with guys in high school and college who acted like imbeciles. She’d given them the benefit of the doubt more than Logan, Jake, and the packmates in the bridal party. The unfairness of her paradigm had never struck her before. Not this hard. Veronica felt hollowed. Gouged.

  This could’ve been a real mess. They could’ve been kicked out of the restaurant, or worse, out of the entire building. This could’ve gone more sour than she dared imagine. But it hadn’t. And she didn’t have to run through worst-case scenarios in her head.

  All because of Logan and the members of his pack who were here tonight.

  God, she owed them all an apology.

  Chapter Eighteen

  After Logan escorted the jackasses out of the building, and everyone finished dinner, the remaining members of the bridal party moved upstairs to the rehearsal. In that short amount of time something changed. Veronica looked at him differently. She thanked him, and genuinely thanked his packmates.

  Logan could’ve keeled over, then and there. The elevators whisked them to the top floor of the tower. Having a wedding rehearsal when the bride and groom couldn’t attend sounded bonkers, but he went along anyway.

  Further proof that when it came down to it, weddings were one big show that meant little.

  The spacious top floor was split into two massive sections. To the left, through a set of gold-trimmed glass doors, row upon row of white folding chairs had been set up facing a window wall that overlooked the sparkling blue waters of the Puget Sound. Through a second set of doors on their right was a bar, a black-glossed dance floor, and roughly twenty tables covered with heavy black cloths.

  If classy was the mood Leah and Jake had wanted, that was precisely what Veronica had given them. This place had to cost an arm and a leg to rent out. A waste, in Logan’s opinion. The view was nice, and the open bar was convenient, but other than that…totally unnecessary. Did people think a wedding full of glitz and glamour would keep them together when their marriage staled?

  Veronica and Logan entered the left half of the building, where the ceremony was being staged. Heather stood against the back wall with an iPad cradled in her arm. She must’ve still been working out last-minute kinks. Veronica left Logan with his packmates and approached Pastor Bennett, who was already in position, standing between two six-foot-tall pedestals that were lacking their flowers. The pastor looked the exact same as he had last weekend at the Sanchez wedding. His pin-striped suit was perfectly pressed and his hands were folded in front of him. His hair was slicked back with shiny goop and his dark eyes were much too friendly.

  As Veronica stood in front of him, Logan picked up the soft scent of adoration buried under something musky. It was a strong scent, overpowering, nearly burning Logan’s nose. He’d never smelled something that funky before. Was it coming from her, or him?

  “Thank you for being here, Patrick. If I knew Leah wasn’t going to make it, I wouldn’t have had you come. I think this is just going to be practice for the bridal party.”

  “That’s no problem,” he said, raising his hands from his sides. “I was pleased when Leah personally asked me to marry her. You two used to be like sisters to me.”

  “I’m sorry you couldn’t make it to the dinner tonight. It would’ve been nice to catch up.”

  “I had some last-minute business to take care of, but I appreciate the invite.” He smiled, his expression wholesome and sincere, conflicting with his distasteful mobster suit. “We’ll have to catch up over drinks at the reception tomorrow night.”

  Veronica nodded. “I’d like that.”

  Logan fought the urge to punch holes in Pastor Patrick’s holy face.

  “Everyone, if I could have your attention.” The wedding planner mask slid back onto Veronica’s face as everyone’s attention focused on her. “Bridesmaids and groomsmen file out near the elevators. The best man and I will enter last, and we’ll line up by height, so the tallest of us will enter toward the end and the view from the chairs will be a descending arch. Ladies, if the guy you’re walking in with is missing from tonight’s lineup, I trust you’ll put them in line tomorrow.”

  Damn, she was good. Natural in her element and a people person. So unlike him.

  “Let’s go!” she said, clapping her hands.

  Drill Sergeant Vale escorted the group out the doors and lined everyone up in seconds. Veronica stood next to Logan, but they were at least two feet apart. He held his elbow out from his side, waiting for her arm to fill the gap.

  “This’ll only last a few seconds,” she said, staring at the back of the heads of the wedding party. Slowly, she threaded her arm through his. “We can get through this.”

  Was she talking to herself? To him?


  He squeezed her arm, and started the walk down the aisle. The chairs were empty, the flowers were missing, and the decorations were still in boxes. Why, then, did this feel like the real thing? A trickle of sweat rolled down his temple. Had someone cranked up the heat?

  Every second dragged in slow motion…

  The bridal party split apart and took their places effortlessly. Veronica’s arm started to slip from his, and the urge to keep her there, tucked against him, startled him. Was he walking through quicksand? Why did his feet want to stop in front of her pastor friend?

  “Let go,” she whispered, shooting him a curious glare.

  He hadn’t even realized that they should’ve parted a few steps before. The pastor raised a quizzical brow, then shook his head and watched Veronica take her place.

  This was wrong. She shouldn’t be over there. She should be standing beside him, her hand in his.

  “Here’s where the bride and her escort part ways and she joins hands with Jake,” Pastor Bennett said, pretending they were standing in front of him. “They say their vows, and we move on.”

  “Wait,” Heather said from the back of the room. She was sitting in the last row, and rose off the seat to get a better view. “I think you should run through the vows, too, just so we get an idea of the length of the service. Not everything, but a gist. It’d be good practice for you, too, to get the kinks out.”

  “We can do that.” Pastor Bennett smiled. “Would you like to be Leah for the night?”

  She shook her head. “The maid of honor and best man should stand in.”

  …

  Veronica shot Heather a dirty look. She was an excellent assistant, but her meddling was getting extreme. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Logan wouldn’t be up for it anyway. He hates weddings. It’d freak him out.”

  But he’d already stepped into place.

  She frowned. “What are you doing?”

  He held out his hand. And damn it, he looked sincere with his puppy dog eyes.

  “This isn’t necessary for—” Patrick began, but the sound in Veronica’s ears went fuzzy as her feet moved forward of their own accord.