Wolf Surrender (Wolf Cove Book 4)

by Nina West

  Henry and Dyson seem happy with the shot though, high-fiving each other.

  “Would you like a mimosa, ma’am?”

  I’m startled by the server who snuck up, a young blonde around my age standing next to me, holding a platter of orange-colored drinks in champagne glasses.

  “Uh….” I glance at my watch. It’s only 10:00 a.m.

  “It’s five o’clock somewhere!” she chirps with a broad smile.

  My curiosity outweighs my need to not look like a clueless fool. “So, where exactly are they aiming, anyway?”

  She points into the distance. “See that white flag way over there, near that pond?”

  “Yeah...,” I say warily. That has to be some five hundred yards away.

  “That’s what they’re aiming for. And they have seventeen more holes after this one.”

  I glance back in time to see the banker swing—not nearly as elegantly as Henry, though that might have to do with his protruding belly. This time I see the ball land, halfway to the flag.

  “Seventeen more holes,” I repeat with a heavy sigh. This is going to take forever.

  “So... that mimosa?” She shifts the tray closer to me, tempting me.

  I shrug. “Why not?”

  ~ ~ ~

  “You might be better off selling it. Or taking it public,” I hear Rick say to Henry as they approach the carts. “I know you don’t like the idea of that but—”

  “No. I hate the idea of that,” Henry corrects. “It’s the cornerstone of my family’s legacy.”

  “But is the cost and the risk really worth it anymore?”

  “Isn’t that what you’re here to tell me?”

  Rick chuckles. “Just give me the green light and I’ll get my consulting firm on it.”

  “Give me a few weeks to sort out the immediate issues. I can’t sell a mine that’s plagued with traps and currently—down.” He hesitates over that last word as his gaze lands on me, on my tongue as I take a long swipe of my vanilla ice cream cone.

  Rick pats Henry on the shoulder and then, throwing a wink my way, heads for his golf cart.

  Henry climbs in. “Any good?”

  “Delicious. You should grab one.” Each hole has held a food truck with a new surprise—beef sliders, shrimp cocktail, chicken tacos—but the soft-serve ice cream at hole seven has been my favorite so far.

  “Watching you eat one is more fun.”

  “Really? Why is that?” I make a point of flattening my tongue and running it up one side, like I’ve done countless times to him.

  His gaze lingers on my mouth for two... three... four beats. “Because I like it when you get yourself worked up.”

  “Myself worked up? And what about you?” My gaze drifts down to his groin, looking for the telltale bulge. He’s acting cool, but it’s there.

  “How many of those orange drinks have you had?”

  “Just a few.”

  “Uh-huh.” With one hand on the steering wheel and his other arm slung over the back of our seat, he leans in and takes a long swipe of the cone with his tongue.

  I can’t help the sharp breath. Just the thought of that tongue between my legs has me clenching my thighs together in anticipation.

  The cart lurches forward with his knowing chuckle.

  ~ ~ ~

  An older man in a forest-green collared shirt with the club emblem on the breast approaches the team as they make their way back to their carts after playing the ninth hole. They share a few words that I can’t hear, and then everyone checks their watches.

  “...we should change the odds to make it more fair,” George is saying to Henry as they reach the cart.

  “You’re the one who set the odds.”

  “Yeah, back when you said you hadn’t touched a club for five years and I assumed you’d be rusty!” The boisterous banker barks.

  Henry smiles wickedly. “You should know better than to bet against a Wolf by now.”

  “You’re tougher than your old man ever was.” He turns to me and says, “I need you up there, distracting him for me, okay?”

  I grin. “He’s pretty hard to distract when he’s focused.”

  “Tell me about it.” He climbs into his cart and, with a lazy wave, pulls away.

  “What’s that about?” I ask curiously.

  “Just a side bet we’ve got going on.”

  “For how much?”

  Henry sucks back half a bottle of water, his throat bobbing with each swallow. A thin sheen of sweat coats his forehead. “Fifty G’s.”

  “As in fifty thousand dollars?” I shake my head. I don’t know why I’m still surprised by how these guys throw their money around.

  “Relax. It all goes to charity. Loser pays out of their personal account, in addition to whatever their company is already sponsoring.”

  I guess that’s at least noble. “And I take it you’re winning?”

  “Of course I’m winning.” He settles into his seat. “You having fun?”

  “Hmm... let’s see... amazing food, delicious cocktails, and a really hot guy....” I shrug. “It’s all right.”

  He chuckles, eyeing the paperback sitting on the dashboard. “And a good book?”

  Ugh. I should have hidden that. “It was okay.”

  He frowns. “Really? Your nose was in it every time I turned around.”

  “The writing is good.”

  “What was it about?” he asks through another sip of water.

  “Murder. Hey, shouldn’t we be going to the next hole?”

  He watches me for a moment. “You’re being evasive.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yeah you are. Over a book. Why?” He doesn’t wait for my answer, picking up the paperback from the dash to read the back. “A woman is accused of murdering her wealthy hotel chain-owning husband?” His brow furrows. “Your mother suggested you read this?”

  “I guess she thought I’d like it?” I don’t know what the hell she was thinking.

  He takes another sip of water, this one long and thoughtful. “So how does it end?”

  “They drop all the charges.”

  “And who murdered him?”

  I sigh. “She did. She gets away with it and takes all his money.” Dammit, Mama. You just can’t help yourself!

  Henry doesn’t say anything for a long moment. And then he starts chuckling. “She’s coming around, huh?”

  “In her own way.”

  His chuckles turn to deep belly laughter, and soon I’m laughing along with him. Because what else can we do?

  He heaves a sigh. “Mark my words, I will find a way to make that woman like me.”

  “Yeah, I might have to bet against a Wolf on that one.”

  “Yeah, me too.” He hits the power button. “We’re breaking for lunch now.”

  “Lunch? You’re kidding me, right?” I hold up the dish I just emptied with chocolate mousse in it. “I haven’t stopped eating. I’m going to explode.”

  “We don’t have to go if you don’t want—”

  “I don’t.”

  He smirks. “Fine. We have thirty minutes. I can take you on a quick tour.”

  “I’d love that.” A half hour alone with Henry. “Your arms are getting red, by the way. Did you put on sunscreen?”

  “No, I forgot.” Henry frowns disbelievingly at his arms, tanned a healthy golden color.

  “There’s some in there.” I nod toward the small canvas tournament bag that sits in the small console.

  “Oh, good.” He reaches in. “I forgot that they include...” His voice drifts as his hand stills. “...women’s panties in the tournament bag.”

  I cover my giggle by sucking back the last of my Long Island iced tea. I’ve been pacing myself pretty well. This last one though, has me hovering at that thin line I don’t want to cross at a charity golf tournament.

  Then again, I might already have crossed that line, covertly sliding my panties off when no one was looking.

  I roughly clear my throat.
“Maybe they figured they’d include some of Henry Wolf’s favorite things in the bag this year.”

  Henry’s gaze drifts to my lap and sits there for a long moment. And then, with nothing more than a tiny smile in warning, he grabs hold of my waist and hoists me onto his lap. “You said you wanted to drive, right?” He throws the cart into motion.

  “Slow down!” I squeal, as we sail along the path, whipping past other players. With Henry’s hands on the steering wheel and controlling the speed, I’m not actually driving. The only purpose this serves is to let me feel his erection growing with each bump and jolt, his arms encircling my waist, holding me tight against him.

  He makes a left turn onto a narrower path that leads toward a picturesque wooded area, and slows down.

  “What is that over there?” I point to a clearing in the middle of the woods with a pergola on one end.

  “They host a lot of wedding ceremonies here. That’s one of the locations. It’s popular, especially in the fall.”

  “Wow. That would be nice.” I picture rows of white chairs and well-dressed guests, colorful bouquets of flowers and a bride on the small dais, all surrounded by crisp leaves in hues of orange, red, and gold.

  “It has nothing on Wolf Cove,” he murmurs as we pass.

  “You don’t have to tell me that.” I sigh, sinking back into his chest. “You weren’t there for the wedding in the ballroom at the end of June. It was stunning. Though, honestly, I think I’d want to have my ceremony on the ferry, sailing around the bay, with the trees in the background and those little white twinkle lights strung up all over....” Unease creeps into my body as I realize I sound like I’ve given a wedding in Alaska a lot of thought. And it wouldn’t be hard to figure out who I’m imagining for the groom.

  Smooth, Abbi. First he catches me telling his mother that I want to have his children, and now I’m telling him all about the wedding I’ve planned for us. And we’ve been together, on and off, for what... four months?

  Henry admitted to wanting children with the “right woman.” I’d have to assume he also means to marry “the right woman.” But he’s never said anything to hint that he thinks I’m the right woman.

  But things are just feeling so much... more, lately. I can’t help but start to hope for a real future with Henry. Am I a fool?

  I bite my tongue to keep from saying anything else stupid and simply enjoy the feel of Henry as we keep going down the shady path. Soon the trees open up to a grassy area, to a small lake up ahead. The path continues around the right side of the lake, where several people meander, talking and laughing and tossing bread to the family of ducks.

  But Henry takes the cart off the path and heads left toward the bull rushes and large canopy of trees. I don’t bother asking if we’re allowed out here, because Henry does what he wants.

  He stops the cart beneath a massive oak, in a secluded area. “How’s this?” He leans in. His mouth grazes my earlobe as he whispers, “Private enough for whatever you have planned for me?”

  Butterflies erupt in my chest, all worries of scaring Henry off by talk of marriage temporarily vanishing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “No?” he asks lightly, both of his hands settling on my knees. They begin a painstakingly slow climb beneath my skirt and up the length of my thighs, only to stop just short of the apex. Heat begins to pool in anticipation. But the seconds pass and he doesn’t dare make a move.

  “You’ve clearly misunderstood my intentions,” I say sweetly, punctuating the last word by grinding into his lap, savoring the feel of his hard length against my backside.

  His deep, dark chuckle vibrates through my limbs. “So you didn’t take something off while I was playing my round and leave it in that bag?”

  I look down at my dress and mock frown. “I don’t see anything missing.” I’m surprised by how even my voice is. I shouldn’t be teasing him like this, though. I doubt he’s above undoing his pants and taking me right here.

  And I doubt I’d be above letting him. He’s turned me into a sexual fiend.

  “Well played, Miss Mitchell.” He grips my inner thighs tightly. His soft, raspy breaths are tickling my ear, driving me crazy.

  My back is still to him when I slip my leg over to straddle his thighs, opening myself up for his hands. “So you’re saying the game is over and I’ve won?”

  His hands slip away from where they were settled. He grasps my waist and shifts me back to my seat. Climbing out, he makes a point of facing me to adjust himself, the bulge in his pants unmistakable. “Nice try.”

  He walks toward the water’s edge. “I used to come out to this spot when I was young.” Reaching down to collect a stone, he expertly whips it at the lake. It skips over the surface five times before sinking. “Until my dad realized how good I was at golf and started making me play.”

  I feel a touch light-headed when I climb out of the cart. I’m not sure if it’s the day of booze and sun, or that all my blood is pooling in my lower belly. I’m aching for release as I settle onto the back of the cart. “So, what aren’t you good at?”

  “Nothing.”

  I roll my eyes. “Come on. There has to be something. Tell me.”

  His lips twist with amusement. “Maybe one thing.”

  “And what’s that?”

  He tosses another stone over the water. Six skips this time. “Relationships, according to every woman who’s ever tried to pin me down.”

  “I think you’re doing okay.” Though his words give me pause. Is that a warning to me not to try?

  “Do you, really?” He settles his hands on his hips, his back to me as he peers out over the water. “I have a home, but I’m hardly there. You see me a day or two at a time, and have to drop everything in order to do it. I work from the moment my eyes open until they close, and that will never change, Abbi. I am who I am. I enjoy who I am, and my life.”

  “I know that. I’m okay with it.”

  “You may think that now. But one day you won’t be.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “I’m never wrong.”

  “You are about this,” I say defiantly, as much to quiet him as that insecure little voice that always lingers. What if he’s right?

  Is this the start of him breaking up with me? Is this the turning point, when he realizes we’ve gotten too serious and it’s time to move on?

  Silence lingers for a moment. “My mother couldn’t handle it.”

  “I’m not her, Henry. She is a horrible, selfish woman who thought she could change him. She wanted to control him. I don’t want to change or control you. I love you just the way you are.” My panic begins to rise.

  “I know you’re not her, Abbi,” he says softly. “You could stand to be a bit more selfish. People walk all over you because of it. I walk all over you because of it.”

  “No, you don’t—”

  “I wanted you in Barcelona. I wanted to phone and demand that you fly out to be with me, to sleep beside me at night. I was going to guilt you into dropping your family and your life and come to me, even though I knew what a difficulty that would be for you. That is the definition of selfishness.”

  “But you didn’t do it.”

  “No, I didn’t,” he admits. “But I wanted to.”

  “And I would have come, happily. Because I wanted to sleep beside you at night.”

  “Is that the life you want, though? Chasing me around the world to get time with me?”

  “As long as I knew you wanted me there.”

  He half turns, just enough to show me his handsome profile as he studies the rocky ground beside him. “I’m not used to feeling this way. Of wanting someone this much. You’ve brought something to my life that I didn’t even realize was missing.”

  I fight the urge to run to him, to throw myself at him. “I’ve never felt like this, either. And as long as you never stop looking at me the way you do, that will never end.”

  He peers over his shoulder to study
me. A light breeze rustles his chestnut brown hair as his gaze drifts down the length of my body, slowing at my breasts and not stopping until it reaches my crossed feet. “And how exactly do I look at you?”

  “Like I’m enough for you.”

  “You are enough for me.”

  “Just me? Just like this?”

  A knowing look touches his face. He understands what I’m saying. No risqué stuff, no Margo. “That’s never been about me. You’re a lot younger. You were still a virgin when I met you. I wanted to make sure you didn’t have regrets.”

  “I have no regrets. I know what I want.” I uncross my ankles and part my legs. His eyes follow the movement, settling between my thighs as I slowly draw my dress up between pinched fingers. Warm air kisses my sensitive flesh.

  “My, have you gotten bold, Abigail,” he whispers. The bulge in his pants that had diminished somewhat is suddenly prominent again. “At the children’s charity tournament will be a first for me.” With intent eyes, he marches for me, his fingers fumbling with his belt.

  The telltale whirl of an approaching golf cart stalls his hands.

  I have just enough time to push my skirt down and adjust my legs back to a sedate position before a cart rounds the bend.

  “Fuck,” Henry mutters, covertly fastening his belt and adjusting himself behind the cover of the tree.

  “Wolf! Someone said they saw you come this way,” the lean graying man driving calls out with an easy smile.

  “Frank. How are you?” Henry’s typical mask of calm has taken over.

  “Good, good. The tournament is a great time, as usual. And this weather! Did you order it?” He gestures to the sky with his palms up. “But listen, I wanted to bend your ear for a few minutes. Get your advice.” He nods to me. “Hope you don’t mind us interrupting, miss.”

  “Not at all.” I smile. “But he might not be in the best mood. I just won a huge bet against him.”

  Henry gnashes his teeth through his smile. “What do you need, Frank?”

  “I wanted to get your take on Sanderson Monroe....” The men begin discussing Henry’s experience with an architectural company that build one of the Wolf Hotels. Frank is considering hiring them for his next condominium development.

  I tune them out, closing my eyes and tipping my head back to enjoy the warmth of the midday sun. Soon, the leaves will begin changing, the days will grow short.