by Naima Simone
And just because Nessa had the desperate urge to escape Wolf’s unsettling, too-perceptive gaze and the equally disconcerting shadow of his sexy, too-big body didn’t mean she should cut short the first amount of fun Ivy was experiencing since her father’s death.
Dammit. Sometimes she hated adulting.
“Okay,” she conceded. “Call me when you’re finished.” But before Ivy could fully get out her reply, Nessa continued in the no-nonsense tone that got her the nickname Nurse Freeze. “And hey, no longer than a half hour. It’s been a long day.”
“Fine.” Ivy ended the call before Nessa could point out that fine only had one syllable not three, and that a half hour could become fifteen minutes real quick.
“There is no way in hell I was that mouthy and moody at twelve. My mother wouldn’t have allowed me to live if I’d been,” she muttered, stuffing her phone back in her pocket.
Wolf laughed, moving forward, and she fell into step beside him. “You don’t want to know how many times my mother told us she understood why some animals ate their young.”
Nessa huffed out a chuckle, liking Moe more and more.
“I guarantee you, though, we were little shits, too. They’re just more tech-savvy, better-dressed little shits.”
“I’ll give you the tech-savvy, but I beg to differ on the better dressed,” she grumbled as they approached the wooden booth decked out in red-and-silver tinsel along with a crazy amount of cutout gingerbread men and women. Whoever decorated this stall must’ve added a little something with “proof” to their hot chocolate.
“Hey, Wolfgang!” called a lovely woman with long, dark brown hair pulled up into a high ponytail. Nessa snorted at Wolf’s growl. And if the shape of her mouth and the elegant, sharp slant of her cheekbones hadn’t announced her as his sister, that teasing note in her voice and his answer, an irritated rumble, certainly would’ve. “Come on over here and give your baby sister some love!”
Oh yeah. I want whatever she’s having, Nessa snickered.
Scowling, Wolf marched over to his sister and nabbed her paper cup out of her hand. Holding it up to his nose, he sniffed. “What’ve you been up to, Leo?”
“Oh calm your tits.” Grabbing the beverage back, she leveled a matching glare back at him. For a moment, the resemblance between them went from passing to uncanny. “There’s nothing in there but hot cider. Can’t a girl just be high on having a night off?” She poked a feeling in his massive chest. “Now look what you’re doing. Giving your friend a bad first impression of your beautiful, engaging and brilliant sister.” The brunette grinned, wriggling her fingers at Nessa. “Hi there. I’m Leontyne. Leo for short.”
“Hi,” Nessa said. She knew this one—Leontyne for Leontyne Price, the famous opera singer. “Nessa Hunt.”
“Oh our guest at the inn? The nurse from Boston?” Not waiting for her reply, Leontyne shifted around Wolf and strode to her, arm outstretched. “It’s so nice to meet you. Welcome to Rose Bend.”
Accepting her hand, Nessa shook it, the other woman’s grip strong, confident. “Thanks. Your family’s inn is beautiful.”
“We try.” She grinned. “And we’re so glad to have you. Even if it means you’ve been stuck with him—” she jerked a thumb over her shoulder toward Wolf “—this evening.”
Wolf sighed. “Me. Standing right here.”
Leontyne slid him a glance. “I know. While this lady waits for her hot chocolate. Go. Be useful.” She flicked a hand at him.
Biting into her cheek to keep from smirking at their byplay, Nessa opened the bag slung sideways across her body and removed a five-dollar bill from her wallet. She passed it to Wolf, and said, “You can just donate the change.”
He took the money, and relief trickled through her that their gloved fingertips didn’t touch.
“While he does man things, let me introduce you.” Leontyne didn’t wait for acquiescence but hooked her free arm through Nessa’s and guided her over to the woman she’d been standing with.
Okay, well then. Apparently, Leo was touchy-feely like her mother. They were what Evelyn Reed would’ve called people who knew no strangers. Or personal space.
“Nessa, I’d like to introduce you to my best friend, sister-in-love, also our illustrious mayor’s wife, Sydney Dennison. Syd,” Leontyne continued and smiled at her friend, “this is Nessa Hunt, a guest for the next month at the inn.”
“Ooh I recognize that particular look in your eyes.” Sydney laughed, and snuck in an embrace. What was it about this town and its people? Did they export pine cones, apple cider and beauty? Petite and gorgeous with dark brown eyes, a face that belonged on a movie screen and natural curls that gave Nessa a serious case of hair envy, Sydney also had a smirk that only added to her loveliness, didn’t detract from it. “So what’re you really thinking? I’m getting the hell out of here before they turn me into a Christmas pod person, or it’s too late and I’m glad to be here at the end of all things.”
Nessa snickered. “I’m about fifty-fifty.” She paused. Returned the smirk. “And bonus points for the Return of the King reference.”
“Meh.” Sydney shrugged a shoulder. “Leo is a Lord of the Rings fanatic. It’s either pick up things or...” She frowned. “Well, yeah, I’m just afraid not to pick up things.”
More hilarity bubbled up in Nessa’s chest, and, damn. When was the last time she’d laughed this much? Definitely not since her mother had died. But even before then... God, it was sad that she couldn’t pinpoint an exact memory.
“Here you go.” Wolf appeared at her elbow, and her thank-you was almost a little too fervent for a hot beverage. But if he noticed, he let it go, instead passing her the paper cup. “I’ve been gone exactly three minutes. Have you let them conscript you into their brood yet, Nessa?”
“Brood, Wolf? That’s implying that we’re hens. And that’s sexist,” Sydney tsked. “Besides...we’re a coven,” she added, sipping from her own cup.
“Oh that’s much better,” he drawled, then directed a scowl at Leontyne. “What vile influence are you having on my sweet sister-in-law?”
Leontyne widened her eyes in feigned innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why, I was just talking to her about agency, equality and sexual autonomy.”
“Shit,” he grumbled, scrubbing a hand down his face. “All I heard was sex.”
Nessa stared at them, head going back and forth as if watching a tennis match, fascinated by their familial interaction. And the glee they took in ribbing one another. But also their obvious affection for one another. Both cast a bright, glaring spotlight on her relationship with Ivy. They hadn’t been raised as sisters and didn’t behave like them.
But the truth was, they weren’t sisters. Not by connection and not by...
She shivered.
From the cold that whispered over her skin. From the secrets that settled in her bones like a sickness. But that’s what lies did. They ate away at a person.
And standing here, in the light of this loving family, she’d never felt her lies more.
“You’re cold.” Before she could refute the claim, Wolf handed his cup over to Leontyne, yanked his black hat off his head and tugged it down over hers. “With that Viking hair, the wind is probably chillier,” he teased.
“Thanks,” she murmured, tipping her head back and meeting his gaze. He didn’t move away, didn’t release his hold on the cap. For a moment, his gaze dipped to her mouth, and her breath caught in her throat. The look was almost physical, and she barely stopped herself from lifting her fingertips to brush her lips.
His big body blocked out the wintry weather, and his mint scent enveloped her, taunted her. Or more specifically, the bit of strong, golden throat right above his coat collar and scarf taunted her. Enticed her with the promise of a warm, safe place to burrow her nose and inhale him, to maybe even sample that elusive flavor benea
th the wintergreen that she suspected belonged solely to him.
Enticed her to...hide.
Because that temptation pulled too strong, she stepped back.
And met two wide and very curious stares.
Leontyne glanced from Nessa to Wolf, then back to her. “Huh.”
The urge to take another step back—big enough to carry her out of The Glen and back to the car—vibrated through her, and only a hand pressed to the middle of her shoulder blades prevented her from retreating.
“Careful,” Wolf warned, and a swift look over her shoulder revealed he’d saved her from knocking over a garbage can.
Great. In the space of time since she’d met him, she’d plowed into him, been dumped on her ass, sported a wreath crown and now almost two-stepped with a trash can.
What was it about Wolf Dennison that set her on edge? That had her so weirdly attuned to him but out of step with herself?
“Wolf,” Leontyne whispered, stepping up to them and placing a hand on his arm. No smile curved her mouth, and the dimming of her gray-blue eyes reflected the taut note in her voice. “Incoming.”
Reluctant curiosity crept through Nessa at the switch in Leontyne’s demeanor. Wolf stiffened next to Nessa, his big frame going as still as one of the statues in Boston Public Garden. And a glance at his face...
She shivered again, despite wearing his hat.
Since meeting him, she’d glimpsed his warm, teasing smile. His amused grin. His wry smirk. Even his mock scowl.
But not this.
Not this...nothing. This blank sheet of expression with no emotion written on it. No, that wasn’t accurate. One look into his eyes belied that remote mask. Green ice chips so hard, so painfully sharp, she had to glance away.
Up until now, she hadn’t seen this version of Wolf Dennison.
And she didn’t like it. Not at all.
“Hi, everyone,” a new, sultry, feminine voice said, and as Wolf went impossibly stiffer, Nessa had her answer. Not what could cause this change in him—who.
But which woman did the honor belong to? Nessa studied the two newcomers. Was it the tall, willowy redhead and the owner of the pageant-princess voice? Or the shorter, slender woman with the black hair and violet eyes that stared at Wolf like he might disappear into a puff of smoke if she dared take her gaze off him?
Yep. She’d bet her prized letter from New Kids on the Block’s Donnie Wahlberg that it was the former.
Who was she?
Better yet, who was she to him?
“Jenna,” Leontyne replied, and Nessa noted how Wolf’s sister’s cool reception of the redhead lacked that Dennison cheer.
Not that Jenna seemed to notice or let it bother her. Jenna moved closer, giving Leontyne and Wolf—who still didn’t move—quick hugs and air kisses. Then she paused in front of Sydney, and what could only be described as a sneer faintly twisted her poppy-red mouth.
“Sydney.”
“Jenna,” Sydney said, bland. “It’s good—well, hey.”
Nessa couldn’t control the jacking of her eyebrow. Whoa. That didn’t sound friendly. At all.
“Jenna, I’d like you to meet Nessa Hunt. She and her sister, Ivy, are guests at the inn for the holidays. Nessa,” Leontyne said as she turned to her, smile as fake as the ID Nessa’d had in high school, “this is Jenna Landon.”
“Nice to meet you. I hope you’re enjoying our small corner of the world. We’re like one big family here in Rose Bend.”
The other woman smiled widely, showing all her teeth, and even if the rest of the group hadn’t reacted as if this woman carried the strain for the next zombie plague, that smile would’ve had Nessa leery. Shark smiles—from people who grinned so huge you could count every tooth in their mouth—could rarely be trusted. In her experience, those wide grins overcompensated for the secrets they were hiding.
So what was it that Jenna Landon didn’t want anyone to know?
“This is my friend Olivia Allen. She’s in town for the holidays, as well, although she grew up here. Leo, you remember Olivia. Wolf, I know you do,” Jenna added with a coy tone that didn’t match the avaricious glitter in her blue eyes.
“Nice to meet you. Both of you,” Nessa murmured.
“You, too.” Olivia’s gaze finally shifted from Wolf to meet hers. But it didn’t last long, and the yearning in that one, brief glimpse had Nessa’s throat tightening. “Wolf,” the other woman whispered, “it’s wonderful to see you again. You look great.”
“Olivia.”
The greeting was polite. The nod, equally so. And from the flinch Olivia didn’t quite manage to conceal, painful.
God, only a dinner party with Kanye West and Taylor Swift could possibly have been more awkward.
“So, Olivia,” Nessa said, once more drawing the attention of the woman with black hair. “Jenna mentioned you’re in town for the holidays, too. Where are you visiting from?”
Jesus, small talk ranked right under a rusty spork in the eye, but one must do what one must do.
“I moved to Boston three years ago.”
“Really? I’m from Boston, too,” Nessa said. Then she lamely added, “Great city.”
“I’m sure.” The only thing missing from Jenna’s saccharine smile was a pat on the head. “But Olivia isn’t just visiting.” The redhead paused, then announced with dramatic flair, “She’s moving back to Rose Bend. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“You’re kidding me,” Leontyne snapped.
“No, I’m not kidding,” Jenna replied through gritted teeth, but still maintaining that pageant smile. Wow. That was a talent. The redhead swung her attention to Wolf. “Obviously, Olivia has missed Rose Bend and the people here. And I think it’s great that she’s returned home. Don’t you think so, Wolf?”
“Jenna, please,” Olivia murmured, pink staining her cheekbones. “Wolf.” She edged closer, her violet eyes delivering a silent plea. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”
Glancing at the still-silent Wolf and then at Olivia, Nessa could practically feel the tension snap in the air. And it didn’t just emanate from Wolf and Olivia, but from Leontyne and Sydney, as well. Nessa didn’t understand it, didn’t grasp the nuances and undercurrents, and frankly, didn’t desire to. Because it didn’t require a master’s in history to realize Wolf and Olivia had plenty of it.
Didn’t matter.
Another of her rules: mind your own damn business if you don’t want people digging in yours.
Wolf flinched.
No one else caught the almost imperceptible jerk of his body; at least, Nessa didn’t think anyone else did. She stood closest to him, and the small recoil vibrated through her.
Damn.
“Actually,” she piped up with a cheer that only came from alcohol and, well...more alcohol, “I need to go find my sister, and Wolf already promised to take me over to her.” She wrapped her fingers around his thick wrist. “Do you mind if we leave now? It’s getting late, and I’d like to head back to the inn.”
Jenna frowned, her mouth flattening into a line so thin her full lips almost disappeared. “Really? You don’t need Wolf for that. I’m sure Leo or Sydney would be glad to help you find your sister.”
“Nope,” Leontyne chimed in, once again cheerful, throwing Nessa a blinding smile. “No can do. I was just on my way over to Cherrie Moore’s booth to shop for Moe’s Christmas gift.”
When Jenna shifted her glare to Sydney, the other woman just shrugged a shoulder. “No excuse. I’m just not going to do it.” Giving Nessa a wink, she turned to Leontyne, crooking her elbow. “I’ll walk you over to the stalls. You know I’m a sucker for Cherrie’s jewelry. And drooling over her man.”
“Maddox is fine.” Leontyne sighed, hooking an arm through Sydney’s.
“It’s the tattoos.” Sydney fanned herself, then with a lascivious cackle, the two wa
lked away without a backward glance, leaving their unholy foursome.
God help her.
“Wolf?” Nessa squeezed his wrist, and for the first time since Jenna and Olivia approached them, he moved. His head dipped, and that fathomless green gaze met hers, and if she’d had doubts about butting in where she didn’t belong—and yes, she had—then the shadows in those eyes hushed them. “Ready?”
“Yeah,” he said.
That’s it. But that’s all she needed.
Tightening her grip on him, she forced another smile. Hopefully her last one for the night, because good Lord, her bullshit-o-meter could only take so much.
“It was nice meeting you both. If you’ll excuse us, I really need to find my sister. Preteens, right?” With that parting comment, she led Wolf away toward the tents, and even the delicious aroma of cookies, funnel cakes and roasted peanuts couldn’t distract her from her mission—to put as much distance between Wolf and Jenna and Olivia as possible.
Where was Ivy anyway? Pulling her phone from her pocket, she shot the girl a text to meet by the stage.
“Preteens, right?” Wolf rumbled, just as Nessa slipped the cell back in her pocket.
“Oh so you can talk?” She arched an eyebrow. “And whatever. I panicked. That Jenna had me feeling like if I didn’t make a move, she was seconds from giving me a swirly in that pot of hot chocolate. The mean-girl force is strong with that one.”
“You’re not wrong.” He tunneled his fingers over his hair, nearly dislodging the stubby ponytail that held his hair back from his face.
Several heartbeats of silence passed between them as he stared at the empty stage and she studied him.
“Just to make sure—we’re going to pretend that didn’t just happen back there, right?”
“Yes.”
His scrutiny shifted back to her, and she easily read the flinty resolve there and in the grim set of his mouth. She sighed.
“Fine.” Nessa narrowed her eyes on him. “But so you know, I’m not used to dodging the big-ass pink elephant in the room. So if we’re not going to talk about that one, can we address another one?”