“It’s my enforcer training,” he tried to reason, but he knew it was bullshit. Just like Casey knew it was bullshit.
His sister shook her head. “You need to—” She stopped herself with a grimace. “I love you, Oliver, but I need to have a bit of space.”
“Hunter gave us our orders,” he replied. “Keep you safe at all costs.”
“What do you think is going to happen to me here, huh?” She gestured to the cafeteria, to the students around her. “I’ve been studying here for two years, and I’ve not gone to one football game, on one date, or to one fucking party. All because Hunter said no. No to putting myself in potential danger. No to gaining my independence. I know I’m broken, but I’ve been trying so hard to glue myself back together. I know I’m seen as weak because of what happened, but I’m also determined not to let my past dictate my future.” Casey’s nostrils flared with anger, her eyes flashing with her gray-eyed wolf. “I want to live again, Oliver. Can’t you see that?”
He stared at her for a beat before running his hands through his hair. She was right. Of course, she was. It was just that the idea of not having a set of eyes on her made his chest tight. He was an intrusion in her life, and for the last few years, she’d graciously accepted that was the way it had to be. He would’ve reached the end of his fucking tether a long time ago if it was him.
“I’ll speak to Hunter about it,” he said.
She nodded and picked up her sandwich again. “I’d appreciate it.” Taking a bite, she chewed and swallowed before saying, “I think you should go out on a date.”
Oliver coughed when he choked on his food. Casey only grinned. “What?”
“I think you should go on a date,” she repeated.
Brushing a hand through his dark hair, he pinned her with a serious stare. “Casey—”
“Oliver, you haven’t had a life for the past six years… not since I was rescued. You’ve kind of put everything on hold. I’m moving on, going to school, attempting to make friends…” she smirked, “… so you can do this for me. And I know just who to set you up with.”
“Casey,” he warned, but his sister wasn’t having any of it. She already had her phone out and was texting frantically. With a resigned sigh, he took another bite of his sub.
“I don’t know why you think this is a good idea.”
Her gaze flickered to his face briefly before returning to the screen. “Because I’m your sister, and I know what’s best for you.”
“You’re also younger than me, so I don’t know how you can claim wisdom.”
“Shh,” she replied, flashing him a grin that harked back to the Casey of a decade ago. Seeing that smile made some of the tension that rode around in his chest ease. If agreeing to this would make her happy, then he would go.
“Can I at least see a picture of her?”
Casey spun her phone around and showed him a photo of a beautiful brunette with warm brown eyes. “Her name is Amy. She’s a junior, and she’s perfect for you.”
“If you say so,” he mumbled, smiling at the way this matchmaking was making Casey light up.
“I do say so.” There was a beep, and Casey turned the phone back around to look at the message. With a squeal, she looked at him. “All set up! You, dear brother, have a date.”
“When, where, and what time?”
“Tomorrow night at Four Top… that restaurant in the city? You know the one.”
“What time are we meeting?”
“Seven. I’ll even help you pick out something to wear.”
He shook his head as he popped the last bite of his first sub into his mouth. “I’m not going to let you do that, Casey, and you know it.”
She shrugged. “It was worth a shot.”
Chapter Two
Darcey’s heels click, click, clicked over the hardwood as she led the newlyweds through one of her listings—a house that had been up for sale less than a week. There were other parties interested, and why wouldn’t they be? This house was gorgeous, but she wanted this couple to see the house. She wanted them to make this their forever home, to raise a family here.
Living vicariously through others? Nope, not her.
“This is what I wanted to show you, Claire… the kitchen. It was renovated six months ago,” she said, showing them into the stainless-steel haven. “All new appliances. Six-burner stove. Two dishwashers…” She pointed. “One in here, and one in the butler’s pantry. Black granite countertops, subway tile backsplash, automatic tap.”
She waved her hand under the spout to show them, smiling when Claire squealed and patted her husband’s arm excitedly.
“Oh, Charlie, isn’t it perfect?” she cooed, looking at him with love shining in her eyes.
“It is pretty great,” Charlie replied, dropping a kiss to her mouth.
Darcey looked away. The stab of longing hit her out of nowhere.
“The great thing about this kitchen is the eat-in area. Can’t you just see yourselves having breakfast here in the morning?” Resting her hands on the back of one of the chairs, she looked over at the couple. She used to be that way. When she’d married Zac, they’d been all loved up. They’d even gone through this whole process—the looking at houses, trying to decide on the lot and neighborhood they would call their own. Children had been in the cards then, back when she didn’t know any better.
“Do you think the owner would come down a little on the price?” Claire asked.
“I think so… for the right buyer.”
Claire looked at her husband, a silent conversation passing between them.
Darcey knew this dance well. Claire wanted it. She was in love with it, in fact, and there was nothing better than an emotional reaction to seal the deal.
“I think we’ll put on offer in for it,” Charlie said.
Darcey smiled. “Fantastic. How far under list price did you want to go?”
“Maybe ten? Does that sound okay?”
Claire added in a worried tone, “Or is that insulting?”
“I think it’s fine. Ten thousand under is still serious enough. Fifty under is insulting. I’ll make the call to the owner now.”
Excusing herself from the room, she walked into the formal living room and called the owner. Mr. Rick Lewis had just come to the end of a nasty divorce and wanted to sell the property he and his wife had purchased only twelve months previously. Darcey understood his reluctance to stay. Memories had been made there, and after the breakdown of their marriage, all those memories would only serve as a form of torture.
After having a quick conversation, explaining that the newlyweds had fallen in love with the place, he agreed to the sale.
“Thank you, Mr. Lewis. I’ll let them know the good news, then get the paperwork drawn up and finalized.”
Slipping her phone back into the pocket of her slacks, she walked back into the kitchen, stopping on the threshold between the formal living room and kitchen when a soft moan reached her ears. She watched Claire and Charlie making out in the kitchen. Claire was pressed against the countertop, Charlie’s hands planted on the granite on either side of her body. Their kiss was frantic and unhurried all at the same time. They had that pace self-assured people had. They were confident in their relationship, in each other’s desires for one another.
That was what was missing from her and Zac’s relationship. She’d been one hundred percent sure about him. About them. About how strong they were. But Zac was insecure and had gone looking for something else—something she didn’t have, apparently.
For the longest time, she felt she was culpable for what had happened, but after a lot of therapy, she realized she had to stop taking the blame for his inadequacies. She was not responsible for his words, decisions, nor his actions.
All of that was on Zac.
Clearing her throat, she stepped into the room. They stopped kissing but didn’t move apart. Claire looked flustered at being caught, but Charlie couldn’t have looked prouder.
“Congratul
ations. Your offer was accepted.”
Claire whooped then wrapped her arms around Charlie’s neck, kissing him deeply. Darcey couldn’t help but smile at the couple. They were starting their married life together on good footing.
“Thank you, Ms. Fields,” Claire said, pulling away from Charlie. “Thank you so much.”
“Of course. Did you want to look around a little more, or are you ready to head over to the office to complete the paperwork?”
“I think we’re ready,” Charlie said with a chuckle. Claire was practically vibrating in his arms.
“I think I’m ready for champagne,” the other woman said.
Darcey replied, “Well, I am one step ahead of you. We have champagne at the office for just this occasion.”
* * *
Darcey was leaving the office for the day when Whitney, her best friend, called.
“Hey, babe,” Darcey answered, pinching her phone between her shoulder and her ear as she rifled through her handbag for her car keys. “What’s going on?”
“You’re meeting me for drinks.”
“Now?”
Whitney snorted. “What, like you have something better to do right now? Some smoking hot man waiting for you at home? I don’t think so.”
Even though she’d been divorced for a little over two years now, her friend’s words still stung a little bit. “Fine. Where are we going?”
“The Bellbird on Fleet Street. Oh! And the last one to get there buys the first round of drinks.” Whitney hung up with a laugh, and Darcey glared at the phone. The bitch only lived a few blocks from there, and Darcey was all the way across town. With a sigh, she walked to her little Toyota Yaris and unlocked it. Tossing her bag onto the passenger seat, she flipped down the visor mirror and checked her makeup. It wasn’t too bad considering she’d just pulled a ten-hour day.
After touching up her lipstick, she drove over to The Bellbird, scoring a parking spot a few storefronts down from the bar. She got out of the car, smoothing down her clothes as she did. She wasn’t expecting to meet a guy in there, but it never hurt to look your best in any case.
Just as she shut her door, something made her stop. She couldn’t say what it was, but there was a need. Darcey turned her head to the right to find a man staring at her from the driver’s seat of the car she’d parked in front of. A drop-dead gorgeous man who was way out of her league. Her whole body lit up as heat flushed through her. Her mouth opened, her breath leaving on a sharp exhale.
For a fleeting moment, they simply looked at one another, stuck in this strange vacuum where she didn’t have to get to the bar and see Whitney.
Whatever held them there in that moment was shattered when a car horn blared farther up the road. An oncoming car’s headlights flashed into his face, making his brown eyes flash to emerald.
She blinked, shook her head.
She must be seeing things.
Damn, it had been a long week at work.
Locking her car, she checked both sides of the road for traffic before crossing.
Whitney grinned at her from the bar when Darcey walked inside.
“Pay up, babe. It’s been a long-ass day, and I’m thirsty.”
“A long-ass day sitting on your throne and bossing around the interns?”
Whitney White was the editor-in-chief at Reign, a highly influential fashion magazine that Whitney started only a decade ago. She had every reason in the world to move to LA or New York, where she could set up an HQ for her empire, but she’d chosen to stay in Greenville to support Darcey after her marriage had fallen apart.
“A long-ass day dealing with dumbass interns who don’t know their asses from their elbows,” Whitney said. “Come on, why are you making me wait? I need booze, and I need it now.”
“All right, all right.” Placing her purse on the bar, Darcey took a seat beside her friend and caught the attention of the bartender.
“What can I get you, beautiful lady?” the guy asked with a panty-melting smile.
Darcey threw a glance at Whitney, smirking. “Four shots of tequila, then a couple of glasses of champagne.”
“You got it.” He slapped the bar once before moving away to get their drinks.
“He’s hot,” Whitney said casually.
Jabbing her finger at her friend, Darcey replied emphatically, “No. No more trying to set me up on a date. I don’t want my next relationship to be arranged.”
“I’m not talking about a relationship, Darcey. I’m talking about you and that grouchy pussy of yours getting some action. How long has it been?”
“Nearly two years,” she grumbled under her breath.
Whitney cupped her hand around her ear and leaned in. “I’m sorry? How long?”
Darcey flipped her the bird as the hot bartender returned. When he placed their drinks down, he shot her a smile, his gaze tracking down to her breasts before returning to her face.
She thought about what Whitney said. She did need that itch scratched, but the idea of getting it serviced by this bartender who had to be at least ten years younger than her wasn’t the way to get things done.
“Thanks,” she said, sliding two shots over to Whitney, then lining up her own. Placing her card down on the bar, she said, “Keep them coming.”
Whitney cheered, then held up shot number one. “Yes! Someone’s getting drunk tonight!”
Darcey clinked their glasses together and threw it back. The burn was immediate. The warmth that flooded her body took a little longer to kick in, but as she let it melt into her blood, she already had the second shot at the ready. Together, they shot those too, slamming the empty glasses back down.
Her bones were humming now, her blood hot, pumping around her body, carrying the alcohol with it.
“Can I stay at yours tonight?”
“You don’t have to ask, babe.” Whitney scooped up her champagne glass and took a sip. Her face was flushed, her warm chocolate skin hiding most of the color. “It is Friday night, after all. Right?”
“Right.” Placing the flute to her lips, Darcey took her first sip of champagne. Tequila and bubbles were never a good idea unless the intention was to get completely fucked up. Today, seeing that newlywed couple sharing a moment in the kitchen had been like a kick in the guts. Longing like she’d never felt before had struck her, and she hadn’t been ready for the assault. She thought she had more than enough time to wallow in her divorcee status. She’d been prepared for that, but Claire and Charlie had really brought it home that life was too fucking short to simply float through without someone by your side.
She wanted the whole relationship thing.
She wanted to meet someone by accident…
Or maybe it was always fate.
She didn’t want someone who had to look after her—obligated out of some need she wasn’t aware of. She wanted someone to walk beside her through this life, to be there to catch her arm when she fell, then put her back on her feet and help her continue on. She wanted a true partner. But all of these things couldn’t actually happen, and as Zac so helpfully pointed out, no man would ever have her now, either.
Whitney clicked her fingers in front of Darcey’s face, snapping her from her thoughts. Wordlessly, she handed her another shot of tequila and picked up her own. “Fuck men,” she said. “We’ve got each other’s backs.”
“Cheers,” Darcey murmured in reply. She swallowed her shot, wincing less than the first time around. Her body was moving into the fuzzed-out stage, where no matter how much more alcohol she put into it, it would all taste good.
Chapter Three
Oliver yawned and stretched his arms out above his head. He stared in the direction of the Pilates studio Casey was currently in, then looked at the clock. Where the hell was she? Class finished about ten minutes ago. Rolling up a mat and walking down the stairs didn’t take that long. Knowing Casey, though, she was probably chatting to everyone. That was his sister—she was everybody’s friend and made them wherever she went.
&
nbsp; Letting out a sigh through his nose, he shifted in his seat and refolded his arms.
Waiting…
… waiting.
The studio was on Fleet Street, a few shops down from The Bellbird. He should’ve walked up there and had a drink while he waited for Casey to finish up her class, but he still couldn’t make himself leave her. Everything she’d said at the cafeteria today had been true. He was hanging onto shit, letting what happened to Casey dictate what he did in his life, but his guilt was a gnawing pain in his chest. He felt so responsible for what had happened to her—although logically, he knew it wasn’t true. He’d had no hand in her abduction and had no idea it was going to happen.
But it was like survivor’s guilt—only neither Casey or he died.
Still, the feelings were all the same. The idea that he hadn’t been able to get to her right away was a constant nagging voice in the back of his mind. All he could do now was watch her, assess everything and everyone around her, and make sure no harm came to her again. Winding down his window to get a bit of fresh air, he was immediately assaulted by the sounds of the city—people talking on the sidewalks, the music coming from the club, car horns blaring.
A cherry red Yaris pulled up in front of his car then, the brake lights intermittently flashed as the driver parked. His gaze fixed on her rearview mirror, seeing a set of pretty seafoam green eyes framed by long lashes. With nothing better to do, he watched the blonde who owned the Yaris get out, smoothing down her skirt and straightening her blouse. For some reason, she turned to look at him, then their eyes locked.
Everything else seemed to melt into the background—the noise, the cold. All he could focus on was her. His gaze tracked down her body, taking in the curve of her hips and the roundness of her breasts. She was stunning in an unassuming way.
His wolf’s ears pricked, and he marched forward in Oliver’s eyes to take a closer look. Flaring his nostrils, he hoped to catch her scent, but just as abruptly as they’d locked eyes, she turned and crossed the road before he could get a bead on her. She had to be human, though. There weren’t any female wolves in town that weren’t known by the pack.
The Helheim Wolf Pack Novellas: The Complete Collection Page 22
