Accidental Lover (Wolven Moon Book 3)

by Dany Rae Miller

  “Everything about what?” Victor pounds the hood of my car. “Cherie, stop! Talk to me.” He grips the top of the door as I get in.

  I buckle and start the engine at the same time. The last time I was this mad? When my dad left. Nothing I can do about it. Tears replace the gagging and they just flow. Lauralynn said crying is good. This doesn’t feel good.

  “Move your fingers, Victor, or lose ‘em.” I yank the door out of his grasp, slam it shut.

  Jesse barely gets his door closed before I throw the car in reverse.

  “Cherie!” Victor shouts, jumping out of the way.

  I peel out of The Avalon, ignoring him shouting my name. He runs after us across the parking lot. Not giving up, Victor shifts in broad daylight and cuts through the trees.

  “Mother Earth, trip the wolf, keep him down,” I whisper. “Until I’m far away from this mountain town.”

  A tree root rises and does just as I asked — trip Victor.

  Pressing the gas pedal all the way to the floor, I fly down the long driveway as fast as my little Toyota will go.

  The tires squeal when I take the left onto highway 145 — barely missing a Buick coming from the right.

  “Jesus H. Christ, Cherie!” Jesse hangs onto the grab bar over the door. He looks at me.

  The tears are a river now. I don’t let off the gas through downtown Telluride, honking at pedestrians to get out of my way.

  “Baby, pull over,” Jesse says.

  “No,” I say gagging a little, again.

  “You are in no condition. You’re going to kill someone. Pull over and let me drive.”

  I ease off the gas. “Drive to Santa Fe? I need to get away from here, Jesse. Please.”

  “I can see that.” He reaches over, wipes my soaking wet cheek, strokes the back of my head. “Santa Fe or bust. You and me.”

  Given that I can hardly see, I know he’s right. I pull into Memorial Park.

  Jesse strokes my head more. “Damn. I’ve never seen you cry, Cherie. Definitely never like this. What went down between you and Gabriela?”

  I shake my head. I can’t talk. I gag, again, at the thought of my best friend pimping me to her cousin.

  He unbuckles his seat. “Please don’t cry. We’ll go to Santa Fe. Just as planned.”

  I unbuckle and we walk around the car to switch seats. After about twenty minutes of constant ringing and dinging on my phone and his, we just shut them off. He turns to me. “You want to talk yet?”

  I shake my head. “Just let me forewarn you now. I know you have a crush on Gabs, but don’t trust her. Don’t trust any fucking Santana.”

  chapter thirty-nine

  “WHAT THE FUCK did you say to Cherie?” I grab Gabby’s arm, shove her into my office.

  Slamming the door, I hold her while attempting, unsuccessfully, to tamp down my rage.

  Gabby pulls loose and backs away from me, puts a chair between us. “That night she snuck into your room?”

  “Yeah?” I narrow my eyes at her.

  “I, um. I gave her the keycard and your room number.”

  “By mistake. You meant to give her Jesse’s.”

  Shaking her head no, Gabby looks away. “I gave her yours on purpose.”

  Cherie didn’t get it wrong. Gabby did.

  “You set her up to fuck a complete stranger?”

  “No. I set her up with you.”

  “Fucking hell, Gabby. She and I were complete strangers. I thought you were her best friend!”

  “I am!” She yells. “Look. I trusted that’d you’d be a gentleman, you’d make her go away, alright. Laugh at the mix up and send her back to her room, but instead —.”

  “Instead I was half asleep, thought I was having a spectacular wet dream and by the time I realized she was real, it was too late? I’d already taken her virginity?” I hover over Gabby. “Because that’s what the hell happened!”

  “That’s just way too much information.” She laughs a little.

  My wolf breaks free, pounds the wall on either side of her head. “This is not fucking funny!”

  Jumping, my cousin has the wits to be scared. She doesn't see my alpha often.

  “It was a spur of the moment decision, okay? Vic, it wasn’t premeditated,” Gabby cries. “I swear. I was just — I was at the computer and I couldn’t give her Jesse. I just couldn’t. Besides, I never thought she’d go through with it anyway.”

  Crying harder, my cousin slides along the wall, moves to the other side of the office away from me.

  “But it worked out great. You and Cherie fell in love.” She flattens to the wall when I advance on her. No doubt, she really is sorry — and scared of me. I back away from Gabby. If I don’t, I just might kill her.

  Fuck, what she did to Cherie.

  Fucking worse is that my girl thinks I was in on it somehow. If she believes that, she’ll never come back. I know it for a god damn fact.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” My beast breaks through again. I punch the living daylights out of my office, put a dozen holes in every wall. I pound the door to the desk, rip it the hell of the hinges and fling it across the lobby.

  Two Av security guards, both wolves, push me back into my office.

  “Sir.” One of them looks back at the front desk staff, at the stunned guests checking in. “Can we assist with a disturbance?”

  “Yeah.” I point at Gabby. “She’s leaving. Escort Gabriela Santana to her suite, watch her pack her shit and escort her off the property. Don’t let her back on until I say so.”

  “Vic. You don’t mean that,” she says.

  “The fuck I don’t. Get the hell out of my sight!”

  I grab my car keys, head to the underground. No idea what I’m going to do, but I’ve got to do something.

  In the Hummer, I beat the steering wheel a few times. Scrubbing my chin, I pause, take a few deep breaths. Being livid isn’t going to help, isn’t going to bring my girl back to me. I need a plan. I need a phone signal.

  If she won’t come back to me, I’m going to her.

  In the exterior parking lot, I call Pedro Santana, another cousin and financial guru — personal and business, to most of the family.

  “Hey. I need leverage at The Graces,” I bark into the phone. “Stock or an outright purchase of the spa. Nice or hostile takeover, I don’t give a shit. Just make it happen.”

  “Well, hell. Santana Resorts expanding to New Mexico all of a sudden?”

  “Nope. This isn’t company business. It’s personal. Drain every last dollar of my trust fund if you have to, just get me as much leverage as possible.”

  “Are you nuts?”

  “I sure the fuck am.”

  I hang up, drive the short two blocks to the condo. Opening the back of the Hummer, there’s her luggage mixed in with mine. I look up to the chain linked storage area behind my two parking spaces and laugh. She’ll have to come back. Except what’s in the small bag she took, I’ve got all her shit.

  I call a local locksmith to have the lock on the storage unit changed. She is not going to sneak in while I’m not here. She wants her stuff? She has to talk to me first.

  Instead of putting my girl’s things in Gabby’s unit, I take it to mine. Her bags will be in my walk-in closet.

  Come get ‘em, sweetness. Please, come get ‘em.

  I strip the sweats I grabbed from my vehicle when I could finally get off the ground at the Av. Fuck. Watching Cherie drive away — erratically, dangerously, and not being able to move was horrifying. I was paralyzed for a good fifteen minutes. She hexed me, I know it.

  I put on slacks and a button shirt.

  “Victor?” Grandmother calls from the entry followed by the sound of the door closing.

  “Yes.” I answer, walk down the hall.

  “What the heck happened at The Av this morning? Chef Monbeau said he heard the girls shouting all the way through the kitchen. When he went to investigate, he saw Cherie almost run you down with her car.” Grandmother shakes her he
ad. “And Gabriela is next door, saying you threw her out of the hotel?”

  “You want the long or the short story?” I flip on the Keurig to heat water for coffee.

  Grandmother takes the coffee pod and cup I’m fiddling with. “I’ll make it. You sit and tell it from the beginning.”

  I do. Leaving off the most intimate details, I tell Grandmother everything. At a few spots, she asks questions, mumbles something about “that poor girl.” When I get to Gabby’s role, Grandmother is shocked. Grandmother is never shocked. Before she can speak, my phone rings.

  “Pedro?”

  “Well, aren’t you a lucky son of a bitch?”

  “How so?”

  “One of the owners of The Graces needs cash and quickly. He’s fire selling his shares. You’d own a third of the spa.” He throws out a price much lower than I’d thought it’d be.

  “Do it. But I want more. I want to own the place.”

  “Not going to happen. The other two owners are founding and their shares can only go to family.”

  Shit.

  “Well, I’ll work with what you can get.”

  We disconnect.

  “You’re far too distraught to purchase anything significant.”

  “Don’t preach, Grandmother.”

  She caresses my cheek, sighs. “What did you just buy?”

  “Third interest in The Graces.”

  Smiling, she’s really smiling and then she laughs. I thought she’d yank my earlobes in punishment.

  “Well, at least you had a profitable knee-jerk reaction. Plus, Rodriquez is close to retirement. He needs a protégé.”

  He’s not getting Cherie.

  “You know Rodriquez?”

  She sets a mug in front of me. “We have a history that I’m not going to talk about. You, go pack a bag. You’re coming home to Denver with me. You’ll have a nice visit with your parents.”

  I vehemently shake my head no.

  “Yes, you are. Your parents want to see you and I cannot, in good conscious, let you stay in close proximity to Gabriela. You’ll do something rash. And, most importantly, Cherie needs to calm down. Chasing after her at this point will cause her to dig her heels in harder, possibly run farther. Is that what you want?”

  I narrow my eyes at Grandmother.

  “Let the spa ease her anger. Relaxation is their speciality. Once the shock fades, her intelligence will come back. And so will she. Trust her, Victor. If nothing else, she loves Gabriela too much to walk away from their friendship.”

  After what Gabby did to her? I doubt that.

  Gripping the counter, I stretch my biceps and pecs. “How can you be so sure?”

  “I’m standing outside of the storm. It’s easier for me to be objective. If you can’t trust Cherie, trust me. Have I ever steered you wrong?”

  I shake my head. No, she hasn’t.

  I go pack for a weekend in Denver.

  chapter forty

  BOTH OF US famished since we didn’t have breakfast, Jesse and I stop at a quaint eatery in Durango for an early lunch.

  “What are you having?” I read the menu.

  “The biggest piece of meat they have.” He smiles. “Just in case the spa serves nothing but rabbit food.”

  I laugh. “Good plan. I’ll have a burger, fries and a milk shake.”

  “That’s the Cherie I know and love.”

  Setting the menu back in it’s holder next to the napkins, I glance out the window two tables away.

  Tomas walks by with a girl. I forgot that Durango is his home town.

  The girl turns her head to look into the cafe. Geez! She’s Shavone’s sister. I know it’s her — she has the same gray eyes. I watch the two of them cross the street and go into a boot store.

  The waitress comes to take our order. When she leaves, Jesse takes my hands across the table.

  “Now.” He does one deep nod of his head. “You’re going to tell me what made badass Cherie cry and drive like a lunatic from hell was after her.”

  I study him for a moment. “What if it makes you hate me and Gabs?”

  “Unless it’s that you two are lesbians who have sworn off men forever, that’s not possible.”

  I laugh, loving his easy sense of humor. And he cares about me. He could be the only male in my life that does. I’ve never doubted him, unlike Victor who very well may have been in cahoots with Gabs.

  Thinking about Victor makes my eyes pool up again.

  “Fine.” I try to take my hands back, but Jesse holds fast. He’ll let go soon enough. I launch into the story — no longer embarrassed about getting the room wrong, because I didn’t.

  With each word, Jesse’s jaw drops more and more. He sits back, letting go of my hands, when I’m done.

  “Holy hell.”

  He just sits there, processing it until our food comes. Even though he’s got to be starving, he doesn’t touch the slab of beef on the plate.

  Tomas and Skylar come out of the boot store, get in a pickup truck and drive away.

  “Wow.” Jesse’s brows crease, but something in his mind clicks. His eyes change ever so slightly.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too. Gabriela was so jealous, she fucking cock blocked me.” He grins.

  I roll my eyes. “That is not what I’m sorry for.”

  “Then, what are you sorry for?”

  “For bursting your Gabs as goddess bubble.”

  “I never thought she was anything but a conniving, manipulative bitch.”

  What? Jesse may as well punch me in the gut. “How can you say that about a girl you’re in love with?”

  “I’m not so far gone that I can’t see her for what she really is. Controlling things is a survival method for her, Cherie, everything’s got to fit into the designated slot she created for it.”

  “That’s very perceptive of you.” I pick up a fry, dunk it in the spiced-up ketchup popular in this part of Colorado. “You do realize that you just admitted that you love Gabs, don’t you?” I pop the fry in my mouth.

  He cuts his steak, checks the doneness. He chews the giant bite before speaking again. “I know it’s against some cupid code, but I’m in love with both of you.”

  I sip the milk shake. The cold feels good against my cried raw throat.

  “I love you, too, Jesse.” And I do. “But the love between you and me isn’t nearly the same as what you feel for Gabs.”

  “I guess you should know, seeings how you fell for Victor in mere days.”

  Why lie about it? “Yeah, leave it me to fall for a setup.”

  Jesse sits back, digests my admission. “I’d bet every dime I have, and will earn over my lifetime, that he was not involved in Gabriela’s scheme.”

  Burger half way to my mouth, I freeze. “Did you just defend Victor?”

  “Wonders never cease, huh? Look. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a pompous prick — but he is not a stupid pompous prick, or a desperate pompous prick.”

  True. Victor just has to flash those golden chocolate eyes and panties in a twenty mile radius will drop.

  “Think about it. What could he possibly have gained by tricking a strange girl into having sex with him?”

  I shrug. I don’t know what to believe. “To help his cousin?”

  “You don’t believe that any more than I do.” Jesse raises his chin at my plate. “You gonna eat the rest of that?”

  I shove the other half of my burger to him. “Go for it.”

  Finished eating, we leave the restaurant.

  “I’ll drive the last three hours,” I say. Calmer now, I can enjoy the road trip.

  On our way down Main Street, I look for the pickup truck. I don’t see it again.

  There is no interstate from Telluride to Santa Fe, just state highways winding around and through the glorious Rocky Mountains. It’s beautiful and relaxing.

  Jesse digs through my purse, finds my phone. He turns it on.

  “Holy shit. You have thirty-six missed calls and forty
-some text messages from lover boy.” Jesse taps on the screen. “And twenty missed calls and twelve texts from Gabriela. Want to return them?”

  “Hell, no. Let ‘em stew.”

  “Ew. The girl’s got a mean streak.”

  “I learn from the best.”

  He plugs the phone into my car’s decrepit sound system.

  “Put it on airplane mode.” I don’t want to listen to the incessant dings when they call and text.

  He does, then punches my eighties pop playlist.

  I smile. “You hate eighties.”

  “Baby, the things I do for you should prove I love you.” He grins. “Listening to Boy fucking George?”

  “You love him. You just use me as an excuse to rock out to Culture Club.” I wink at him.

  Dancing in our seats we sing along: “Karma karma karma karma karma chameleeeeon. You come and goooooo, you come and gooo-ooh-oooh.”

  Twenty past three in the afternoon, we pull into The Graces arrival portico. Micro fine mist with a touch of lavender in it drifts down from above. Pots and pots of flowers and vines hide the majority of the hard surfaces around the main entrance. Already, the serene atmosphere puts smiles on our faces.

  The valet helps unload our bags, hands me a ticket and takes my car away with a respect that an old Toyota doesn’t deserve.

  When we check-in, the desk calls Mr. Rodriquez. The graying Latino gentleman smiles as he hurries toward us.

  “Ms. Valentine.” He says with a slight Latin accent. “So, nice to see you, again.” He clasps my hands.

  Closer to him this time, I sense it. He really is a warlock! Amazing.

  I introduce Jesse.

  Mr. Rodriquez turns back to me. “Are you alright? Your eyes look swollen. Allergies or —”

  “No. I had some disturbing personal news this morning.”

  “So sorry to hear that. I hope it works out for you. In the meantime — and don’t take offense please, this is an opportunity to show you what a wellness holiday can do for guests navigating a difficult time.”

  I smile. “Sounds wonderful.”

  Thus, begins nonstop pampering, starting with a massage followed by a sugar rub and a Vichy shower. Jesse’s constant pleasurable moaning, though, makes me giggle through it all. Even the masseuses have a difficult time keeping straight faces.