So I Married a Werewolf (Entangled Covet) (10 page)

Mr. and Mrs. Owens took off along the zip lines ahead of Faith. Once they were a safe distance away, she shuffled to the edge of the platform. The tour guide waited, hand extended, to attach Faith’s harness to the line. Only she was still grinning at Carter over her shoulder. She stepped too far and her right foot pitched over the edge. She lost her balance. Reached for the rail, for the tour guide, and got air.

Carter moved lightning fast. He seized her wrist and held tight, yanking her back. She crashed into the tour guide, who was trying to be useful and failing. They toppled. Her wrist broke loose from his grip as she flailed in a funky, panicked attempt to brace her fall. She and the tour guide tangled together in a mess of arms and legs before falling to the platform. Faith landed on her back, the guide squarely on top of her.

Rising up on his arms, the putzy guide looked down at her, smiling.

“Get off.” Growling, Carter lifted the guide from the floor by the scruff of his collar.

“I’m off, I’m off!” the guide said, raising his hands in surrender. “My shirt, man!”

Faith got to her feet and rubbed the small of her back. “Let go, Carter, it was an accident.”

“Are you all right?” The tour guide smiled at Faith. “That was quite the tumble, sweet cheeks.”

Carter tightened his hold. “You better cut the ‘sweet cheeks’ or you’ll be tumbling with me.”

“Don’t let him bother you. He’s having a bad day.” Faith patted the guide on the shoulder. “We got married yesterday and we haven’t had sex yet. He’s got a serious case of blue balls.”

He did, but
damn
. Did she have to out him that way?

“What’s the deal, man?” The guide twisted in Carter’s grasp, his gaze raking over Faith’s body like a hungry predator. “If you ain’t into
her
, you should get your eyes checked.”

Oh, he was into her all right. So much so that he couldn’t think about anything else.

Using one hand, Carter cinched the guide up until his feet dangled in midair.

“Oh, sweetie,” Faith said, planting her hand on her harnessed hip. “Isn’t that sweet? He finds me attractive, just like the concierge did!”

Without waiting for Carter to release the putzy guide, Faith hooked herself up to the zip line. “Like this?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

The guide gave a thumbs-up, and she was off. Carter dropped him to the platform as Faith took off, screaming in delight. She leaned back until she was upside down, and thrust her feet in the air, arms extending to her sides. Mrs. Owens looked back, caught sight of Faith, and screeched with joy.

If Carter bit his tongue any harder, he’d chew the damn thing in half. He yearned to be the one smiling and laughing with Faith. He ached to be the one giving her the confidence to ride the lines this way. The one she’d talk to at the end of the day.

Instead, he wanted to kill every guy within a ten-mile radius.

She’s not your wife. You’re not her husband.

She’s not yours.

Although the words resonated with the logical part of Carter’s brain, he dismissed them with a gut-clenching growl. The wolf part of him craved being near her, dragging her against him, and claiming her as his own.

This was precisely the reason he needed to keep the boundaries clear.

Chapter Fifteen

After they returned to the Monarch, the members of the bureau scattered. A few retreated to their rooms—the excitement of the day had gotten to them—and a large group headed to the bar of the hotel for predinner drinks, leaving Faith, Carter, and the Owenses standing in the lobby.

“I’m so glad you felt well enough to make it!” Mrs. Owens said, leaning against a pillar. “We’ve never been zip-lining as a group before, and after today’s fun, I doubt it will be the last.”

“It was amazing,” Faith said, watching Carter head to the front desk out of the corner of her eye. “I’m glad my hangover wore off.”

“And Carter said you were afraid of heights.” Mrs. Owens palmed her forehead. “That trick where you hung upside down was spectacular! I think the captain took a snapshot with his phone. He’ll have to send you a copy.”

Faith smiled, remembering how surprisingly freeing the adventure felt. “That’d be great. I don’t think anyone back home will believe I did it. I’m going to need the proof.”

“Isn’t it amazing what we’re capable of when we put our minds to it?”

It really was. Dawson had set his mind on Yale and had gotten accepted because of the work ethic and determination he’d gotten from their father. To get the detective position he’d dreamed of, Carter was willing to marry someone he had zero interest in. Not that it didn’t miff her to think about it.

She made the decision here and now: the second she got home, she was going to use them as an example of how to lead the rest of her life. She’d make
Have a Little Faith
succeed, come hell or high water. Whatever she had to do, she’d make it happen. If it meant she had to pull all-nighters or invest in promotional opportunities, she would.

“Couldn’t agree more.” Faith nodded.

What should she do first?

After the cake disaster following the Owenses’ dinner, it was clear her cooking could use a boost. Maybe she’d enroll in culinary classes at the senior center. She’d always wanted to learn how to dance, too. Tracy had tried to drag her to “Ballroom for Singles” night at Cosmo’s, but Faith had always insisted her two left feet wouldn’t allow her to attend.

What was stopping her now? A husband who didn’t want her? A brother who was going to be gone at college? Those things pointed to joining the ballroom classes, not steering clear of them.

“Have you heard about our next dinner for the bureau?” Mrs. Owens touched Faith’s arm. “Did Carter tell you?”

“No, he didn’t.” Faith eyed the way he was talking to Hotel Services Tinker Bell. The little pixie was leaning far over the counter, her shirt slouching in front to put her barely there breasts on display. Of course Carter would be interested. Tink was more his type than any other woman standing in the lobby. “He doesn’t tell me anything.”

“Men are terrible at relaying things, aren’t they?” Mrs. Owns snickered. “The bureau didn’t feel it was fair to host the two of you this weekend and leave Nate and his new bride out in the cold. Since Nate couldn’t come, the captain suggested we have our next monthly meeting at his place to get a better feel for his home and his family.”

Oh no, no, no. Having the dinner party at Nate’s would entail looking at pictures, having drinks in the backyard, and getting to know them on an intimate level…on their turf.

“Why not have it at our place?” Faith blurted, desperate for the upper hand. “If they host, they’ll have to spend time cooking and cleaning rather than getting to know you all. Let me honor Nate and his bride with a dinner. At our home.”

Mrs. Owens grinned. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

She’d have the party catered and hire a cleaning service if she had to. She’d get the extra cash from her husband. He wouldn’t mind.

“The cooking is intense,” Mrs. Owens said, smoothing down her blond locks. “But I manage to handle it fine enough, as any good wife should.”

Where the hell was she? Stepford?

But Mrs. Owens wasn’t a Stepford wife. She was generous and sweet and one of the friendliest wives in the bureau Faith had met. If Mrs. Owens could host a party like the last one, Faith could do it, too.

“Mark it on your calendar,” Faith said. “The next bureau meeting is at our place.”

“Honey?” Carter touched her arm, startling her. “Can I talk to you?”

She spun around. “Sure. See you soon, Mrs. Owens.”

After parting ways with one of the nicest ladies in the bureau, Faith let Carter lead her outside, down the Monarch’s steps, to a walkway lining the harbor. Boats bobbed just offshore, a few lights twinkling here and there. Light posts guided their way around the edge of the harbor, illuminating a quaint concrete walk lined by the occasional flower bed.

Despite the tension flowing off Carter in waves, the night was relatively still and the walk romantic. This whole place oozed starry-eyed fantasies. It was easy to dream of a romantic, whimsical night when her reality was grim. She’d crushed on Carter for a year, married him, almost bedded him, and been rejected.

Peachy.

Disappointment hollowed out her belly, but she tried to ignore the ache by thinking about her plans when she got back to Seattle. Update the blog. Invest in herself. Cook more. Worry less.

Don’t get attached to men who don’t want you.

“What’s this about?” she asked, as Carter’s pace slowed near a man playing a violin for cash. “What couldn’t you talk to me about in there?”

“Did I hear you right?” He frowned. “We’re having the members of the bureau over to our
house
?”

She nodded excitedly. “Good, right? They were going to let Nate host the next monthly meeting, but I was in the position to swoop up the opportunity, so I did. Go on,” she said, bumping into his shoulder, “say you’re proud of my mad swooping skills.”

He stopped walking. “What’s gotten into you?”

Tension shot through her. “Excuse me?” She whirled around on him. “What do you mean, what’s gotten into me? You should be thanking me for stealing that opportunity away from Nate. Do you know that the captain meets with the host privately before the party to arrange the menu and seating arrangements? Do you know if the meeting is a hit, they’d be more inclined to have meetings at the same place in the future? I couldn’t stand by and let Nate take that away.”

Carter’s jaw clenched until it looked like it was going to snap clean off. “You’ve forgotten one very important thing.”

“What’s that?”

“The burned baking pan on your front porch? The warning to all the other pans in your house?”

“Oh. That.” She shrugged. “I’ll learn how to cook.”

“In a month?” He didn’t look amused.

“I can do it. I just realized, I can do anything.” She grinned. “And I might be moving to Stepford.”

His face scrunched. “What?”

“Nothing. Poor attempt at a joke.” She kept walking. He followed, eventually. “I’ll take cooking classes. I should’ve done that a long time ago. I don’t mind. I used to enjoy school.”

“What about cooking? Have you ever enjoyed that?”

“Not especially, but if I learned how to make a dish right, I might.”

Carter slowed his pace to match hers as they passed a couple attached to each other’s faces, leaning against one of the light poles.

“We’ve got one more problem.” His words came out crisp and low. “We don’t live together, yet we’re having the party at
our
house. Don’t you think it’s going to be strange that your stuff isn’t there or there aren’t any pictures of us anywhere?”

She bit her lip. “Your place does lack a woman’s touch.”

“It does?”

“Oh come on, you know it’s a bachelor pad. You’ve got black leather couches, liquor stocked for the apocalypse, and a picture of Tom Selleck made out of crushed velvet hanging in your dining room.”

He pointed at her, lips tight. “I got that picture at auction. It’s classic.”

“It’s not a Monet. A woman would never let you hang that picture somewhere people are eating.” She paused, thinking over their options. Nothing seemed clearer than the one staring her in the face. “I’ll move in when we get back. I’ll stay in your guest room downstairs and you can stay in your room. We’ll have separate baths and share the living room and kitchen. I’ll decorate and spruce the place up, but not too much. I’ll pay you half the rent for a few months if you’ll—”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you wouldn’t have to pay rent. You’ll still have the rent at your place…I couldn’t ask you to pay double for the months you’re staying with me.”

She was about to push the point when he said, “Save the money for Dawson.”

What could she say to that?

“Okay, roomie.” She stopped and turned to him. Moonlight streaming through the clouds caught on his eyes just so, accenting their pale blue clarity. Her heart stuttered, even though she’d told it not to. Damn treacherous thing. “If we’re done here I’ve got to get back inside. I told Rick I’d meet him in the lobby to tell him about the trip.”

“Rick.” It came off his lips as a growl. “You’re meeting him now?”

“Unless there’s more you want to talk to me about.”

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked, leveling her with a piercing stare. There was no moonlight lightening his eyes now; they were dark and cold. “You show up to the zip lines in this”—he motioned from her boots to her sweater—“talk about some hotel rat named Rick, nearly break your neck only to flirt with the tour guide, and then fly around the skies like you own them. I thought you were afraid of heights.”

“I got over it.” It was all she could get out before he fired off another question.

“And you hated tight clothes! I’ve never seen you in a sexy sweater like this one.”

“This is sexy?” She pressed her hands down her sides, smoothing the sweater at her waist.

“Stop doing that!” He paced a tight circle, then came at her, stopping short of pressing his body against hers. “You don’t flirt, you don’t meet guys in lobbies of hotels, and you don’t agree to cook for the entire bureau. This isn’t you. I thought you said from here on out you were going to be yourself.”

Surprisingly, she hadn’t been trying to be anyone but herself any of those times. After Rick had told her that no one had gotten injured from the zip lines since their opening fifteen years earlier, she’d gotten over her fear. It wasn’t heights that she’d been afraid of after all…it was falling. Trusting in the strength of the cords gave her the courage to have the most fun she’d had in ages.

And she liked the way the red sweater accented her breasts yet smoothed down the extra curves around her waist. It was the most flattering thing she’d bought in years. She hadn’t really thought sweaters could be sexy, but judging from Carter’s expression, she’d been wrong.

“This is me, Carter,” she said, lifting her arms to her sides. “I’m the same person I was two days ago, back at my cabin when you asked me to come here. Just because I’m wearing something I don’t usually wear and talking to someone in the lobby doesn’t mean I’m different. We still have a deal, if that’s what you were worried about.”

“So you are talking to him?”

“To who? Rick?” She shook her head. “Is that all you heard?”

She’d never seen him this worked up. A thin layer of sweat clung to his forehead. His pulse raced—she could hear it in the silence stretching between them.

He paused, his chest rising up and down as if he were out of breath. “I’m not worried about the deal.”

“Then what?”

“I’m…” He shoved his fingers through his hair. “I’m worried about you.”

She stepped back toward the embankment, beneath a flickering umbrella of light, and hopped up on the concrete half wall separating the walkway from a patch of grass.

“You’ve got no reason to worry about me,” she said. “I’m not yours.”

“You
are
mine.” He advanced, and then stopped suddenly, a look of shock flashing over his face. “For the next few months, you’re my wife.”

“But I’m not your woman or your mate.” She kicked her legs over the edge. “If I want to talk to a stranger in the bar until midnight I will, as long as it doesn’t interfere with our agreement or your chances of getting the detective position.”

The light overhead flickered to black. In the temporary dark, Faith heard the hard and true
thump-thump
of Carter’s heartbeat, his heavy intake and exhale of breath, and the clunk of his heel as he eliminated the space between them.

“Carter?”

He whispered, “Let me try something.”

And in the next instant, his hand was on her cheek. She flinched, but his fingers lingered, the pads brushing against her skin in a loving caress. She couldn’t help it—the tenderness of his touch forced her eyes closed. His hand glided to the back of her neck, and he gave a little tug, scooting her to the very edge of the half wall. He stood against the concrete, his hips pressing her thighs apart.

Her breath hitched as he tilted her head up with his fingers and planted an openmouthed kiss on her neck. Sparks sizzled across her skin and warmed her from the inside out.

She shouldn’t be doing this. He didn’t want her last night.

What changed?

His tongue shot out tantalizingly slow, tracing her scar from her jawline down the side of her neck. Quivering, she reached out for him and grazed her nails down his back. Then she grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and shoved him away from her.

“Are you the same person you were last night?” she asked, willing her racing heart to still.

His face was close to hers and closing in. “I am.”

“Am I the same woman?”

“I hope so.” The words were spoken from a smiling mouth—one that was going to kiss her and stop her heart in two seconds flat. God, he smelled good. Like pine and woodsmoke.

She held him at arm’s length. “I thought we were friends.”

“We are. I was thinking we could try ‘friends with benefits’ on for size.”

God, he’d probably
benefit
as well as he kissed.

“When it comes to you and me, it’s friends only.” She was dead tired of playing games. Her heart couldn’t take it. She didn’t want to be friends with benefits—with Carter she wanted more. Damn it, she deserved more. She pushed him away and hopped off the wall. “If you want benefits, you’ll have to find it somewhere else…after we’re divorced, that is.”