Wolf Prey (Wolf Cove Book 3)

by Nina West

  “She will, as long as it fits with how she wants you to live it.” Aunt May sticks her tongue out at me.

  “Did she do this to you when you were growing up?”

  “When we were growing up?” Aunt May snorts, taking a sip of her coffee. “Just last week she told me that it’s time for Lloyd Hornback to find himself a new wife, and I need to let him know that I’m interested.” She leans in. “I like Lloyd Hornback. He’s a nice man. But I ain’t interested in him, and I doubt he’s lookin’ for a new wife. He just likes my spaghetti sauce.”

  We share a laugh. Poor Aunt May. She works so many hours, she doesn’t have time to date. More than a few men have come around sniffing over the years. It’s not hard to see why—she’s an attractive, curvy lady with a loud laugh and a fun sense of humor. But she has never married, much to Mama’s dismay.

  “She still thinks she can live my life better than I can. The good thing is I don’t have to listen to her. She’s not my mother.”

  I groan. “I can’t let her run my life anymore.”

  Aunt May sighs. “Bernadette loves you. Really, she does, so don’t ever doubt that. And everything she does and says, she does because she loves you and thinks that her way is the best way. She got it from our mother.”

  “She still thinks I’m going to get back together with Jed and run the farm. I am not getting back together with him!”

  “And the farm? You’ve definitely changed your mind about that, too?”

  “Yes. I mean, I think so. I don’t know. I’m twenty-one, Aunt May! What the heck do I know about what I want to do with the rest of my life? But I just don’t see myself here for the rest of my life. Not anymore.”

  She studies me pensively. “Of course you don’t. You had a taste of the outside world and you saw what else was out there, which is a whole lot. There’s nothing worse than being trapped somewhere by guilt. Look at me.” Her olive-green eyes roll over the wallpapered floral walls of the Pearl, the restaurant opened by my great-grandmother, Pearl. It was passed down to my grandma. Aunt May took over when Grandma died from a heart attack. I was nine years old and my mother was already firmly ingrained in the life of farming.

  “You don’t hate it that much, do you?”

  “Not anymore. And if I did, it wouldn’t matter because I’m too old to pick up and start a new life. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

  “You’re not that old.” Actually, she’s only four years older than Henry.

  Oh my God. I never did the math before.

  Her head tips back and that deep chortle of hers that can be heard anywhere in the restaurant fills the dining room. “My point is, this may not have been for me when I took it over, but it kind of feels like mine now. That’s what you need, something that’s yours. That you do for yourself, because you choose to do it. Not because it was forced on you.” Her face turns serious. “Let me ask you this: if you weren’t with this man—”

  “His name is Henry,” I correct her. He has a name and it is not “this man” or “that man” or “the wolf” or any other name Mama has taken to calling him.

  “Right, Henry. If you weren’t with Henry, would you still be so desperate to get away from Greenbank and the farming life?”

  I open my mouth to answer, but no words come out. I don’t know. Would I?

  The sad thing is, had I come back to Greenbank for the summer and suffered in silence as Jed paraded Cammie around, never having met Henry or Ronan and Connor, never got onto that plane for Alaska, I would have gladly taken Jed back, not knowing any better.

  She holds her hand up. “Don’t answer. Just think on that. I have to go check on the Bolognese sauce. I’ll be back in a second.” Aunt May makes most things from scratch for the menu and she’s known for her exceptional cooking skills.

  My phone starts ringing.

  “If that’s her, you ought to answer,” she calls over her shoulder. “As difficult as she can be, she’s still your Mama.”

  With a groan—because she’s right—I reach for my phone. Only it’s not Mama. It’s not even a number I recognize.

  “Hello?”

  “Yes, is this Abbi Mitchell?”

  “Yes?” I frown. “Who’s calling?” The woman said Abbi, which means she’s tied to Wolf Cove. No one else calls me by that name.

  “I’m Zaheera Khan from Nailed It Branding. I’ve been assigned to your account and I’d like to go over a few things with you.”

  I frown. “My account?”

  “Yes, for your business.”

  “For… excuse me, who are you again?” I must sound like an idiot.

  “Zaheera Khan for Nailed It Branding. We’re based in New Jersey. We specialize in consumer goods product branding and launching. We’ve been hired to help you design your packaging and platform for your products.”

  My products?

  My soap. That must be what this is about.

  “Who hired you?” Why do I bother asking? This has Henry written all over it.

  “Um… I’m not sure, honestly. But I’ve reviewed the initial specs and I’m excited to come up with some design plans with you.”

  Initial specs?

  There’s a long pause. “Can we schedule a time for a week Monday?”

  “Yeah… Sure. Okay.”

  After I’ve agreed to a phone call with her, I hang up and immediately text Henry.

  Nailed It Branding?

  He answers almost immediately.

  Is there a question?

  I roll my eyes. He’s in business mode.

  Why are they calling me?

  You said you wanted to hire someone to design packaging for you.

  So you went and hired them the very next day?

  I don’t waste time. You know that.

  I shake my head and sigh.

  It’s just a hobby.

  Then make it a well-packaged hobby.

  Why are you doing all this for me?

  Just talk to them. Gotta go. In a meeting.

  “You’re always ‘in a meeting,’” I mutter. I don’t know what kinds of important business meetings he’s in if he keeps answering me immediately.

  Aunt May slides back into the booth. “What’d Bernadette say?”

  “That wasn’t her. That was… nobody.” As much as I love my aunt and I trust her more than anyone else in my family, I can’t completely trust that she won’t tell Mama about this next “extravagance” that Henry’s bought for me, something Mama would also not approve of. What do these kinds of companies even cost?

  “I heard the party last night was a big hit. Wish I didn’t have to miss it, but I couldn’t get anyone into the kitchen on such short notice and I can’t afford to close down for dinner.”

  “It was really great. So many people came out. I think Daddy was happy.”

  “I hear this man… sorry, Henry—” She smiles her apology. “—was there until late last night?”

  “Where’d you hear that?”

  She gives me a “where do you think?” look.

  “And what did she say about him?”

  “Nothin’ I’m gonna repeat. But he was quite the talk of the town around here. So are you officially an item?”

  “We’re ‘seeing where it goes.’ Honestly? I don’t know.”

  She glances out the front window at my new Dodge parked out front. “Sure seems like it’s going somewhere.”

  I sigh. “I told him it was too much but he won’t take it back. I don’t know what to do.”

  “So he likes spending money on you. I don’t know when that became such a bad thing!” She adds quickly, “Tell your mother I said that and I’ll deny deny deny.”

  “Thanks for always having my back.”

  She winks. “So when am I gonna get to meet this handsome billionaire? You need to bring him in for a meal.”

  My gaze shifts over the quaint interior. It’s small, enough room for only twelve tables, each dressed in red-and-white-checkered tablecloths and balanced with co
asters to even them out. I’ve never figured out if it’s the floor or the tables that are the issue. I try to picture Henry, in one of his five-thousand-dollar suits, sitting in here with a bowl of spaghetti but I’m having a hard time. Even though he wouldn’t show up dressed like that, I remind myself. He has a casual side too. Even so, he’d stick out like a gazelle at a dog race.

  “I don’t know when I’ll see him again. He’s so busy with work and travelling all over the place.”

  “I’m sure he’d be more than willing to buy a ticket so you can meet him somewhere.”

  Or send his private jet. I don’t think normal people can comprehend what being a billionaire looks like. I’m terrible with math, but I’m sure the interest he made on his assets today more than paid for that truck.

  “Yeah, but what about the farm and Daddy? Mama can’t do all that on her own.”

  “Bern could stand to lose a few pounds, but she’s still able to take care of your father. Plus, I can help her, if I have some notice. And there are plenty of farmhands around to help with the farm for a day or two. Let Jed do it, he wants to run that farm so bad.”

  “I don’t know.”

  She slides out of the booth. “Well, the offer stands. Just give me some notice and I’ll see what I can swing.”

  “Thanks, Aunt May.” Why couldn’t Mama be more like her?

  “Okay, I gotta get ready for the rush.”

  “Do you need any help?” It’s been a while since I took orders and ran plates at the Pearl, but it’s not hard.

  “Hoping to avoid her for a while longer?”

  I grin sheepishly. “Maybe.”

  She nods toward the kitchen. “Fresh aprons are on the hook.”

  ~ ~ ~

  It’s a quarter after ten when I pull up to the house again. The Reverend’s green Oldsmobile is parked next to my old truck, which means that Jed’s parents are inside. They hardly ever travel alone.

  Aunt May sent me home with the rest of her Bolognese sauce in a plastic take-out container, along with an entire loaf of garlic bread and her homemade Caesar salad dressing.

  Dinner made for tomorrow, minus the pasta—my peace offering for storming out of here earlier today and not answering a single phone call.

  Hushed voices buzz from the den when I step into the kitchen. Moments later, heavy footfalls that I recognize creak down the hallway. Jed’s here, too.

  “Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick!”

  I sigh. “I was at the Pearl, and you know I was at the Pearl because Aunt May called here to tell Mama so she wouldn’t worry.” I shoot a glare his way. A “nice try with the guilt trip” glare.

  He chews on the inside of his cheek. “You were there all day?”

  “I went to the feed store, too. Got four bags of chicken pellets.”

  “Guess I had better go put it away before we have another bear problem,” he mutters, marching out the door.

  We used to keep our chicken feed in metal cans outside the chicken coop. They had little latches that kept the raccoons out, so we figured we were fine. We’d never had issues. Then five years ago, a black bear wandered here from the mountains. He got into the entire supply one night, ripping the cans apart and making a horrible mess.

  Worse, he kept coming back, because when you feed a bear once, they’re as good as your best friend, only with teeth and claws that they’ll use on you. We called Forestry a dozen times but they didn’t come. It turned into such a destructive nuisance, Daddy had to go out with his gun and shoot it.

  Thinking back on it now, it was a scrawny, sad-looking thing, its black fur patchy with bones lacking muscle and meat. At the time, I was terrified.

  But it was nothing like the grizzly bear that tore apart my jacket in Alaska, that day I went out with Henry to chop wood.

  I smile. All thoughts somehow lead back to Henry Wolf. I swear, I’m obsessed with the man. It’s almost painful, being trapped here when I want to be out there with him.

  With his hands gripping me and his mouth on me.

  With him inside me.

  Hushed voices from the den break my reverie. “We’re all just going to have to let this play out, Bernadette,” the Reverend whispers. “She’s being tested, that’s all. Power and greed, and bodily temptations. But in the end, she’ll see the light. She’ll come back to us, stronger for it. I know she will.”

  “How on earth am I supposed to just sit by and allow that man to prey on her innocence?”

  Not so innocent anymore, Mama.

  “It’s in God’s hands now. We can’t force it. We’ve guided her as best we can, but now she must learn how to fight temptation and win.”

  “And we will pray for her,” Celeste adds. “We will pray that in the end, she’ll see that he’s no good for her, just like our Jed came to his own conclusion. She’ll see that she belongs here with us, with Jed, living a humble, honest life.”

  “And until then, Roger and I are supposed to just idly watch our daughter turn into some sort of materialistic heathen?”

  What?

  I clench my jaw with frustration as tears prick my eyes, and I listen to them talk about me and condemn Henry for being wealthy. Even though it’s his wealth and connections that saved Daddy. But they’re so narrow-minded, so judgmental, they won’t ever admit to seeing that.

  At least Daddy hasn’t joined in on their witch hunt, I note. That brings me some small level of comfort. It likely means that he doesn’t agree with them, but he won’t say anything because he won’t ever argue with the Reverend, no matter what he thinks.

  “If you push too hard, you’ll lose her to him. We just need to try and guide her gently.”

  “You heard what Jed saw last night. The unspeakable things he was doing to her back behind our barn! Tore her dress right off her!” Mama hisses.

  My mouth drops open as my cheeks flare. Oh my God. He actually told them? That sniveling little….

  The porch door creaks open. I spin around in time to see Jed stroll in, dusting his hands on his thighs. “There was still some feed left so I—”

  The sound of my hand hitting hard across Jed’s cheek carries through the kitchen and, I’m sure, down to the den. “I hate you!” I hiss.

  He reaches up to cover his face with his hand, an angry red welt forming quickly. “What did I do to deserve that?” His eyes are filled with genuine shock. He actually has no idea.

  I’m a split second away from slapping him again. Before that happens, I march out of the kitchen and upstairs. I grab pajamas and head for the shower to clean the day’s sweat off my body, the one and only place where I won’t be bothered while I try to calm myself.

  ~ ~ ~

  I’m freshly showered and in my pajamas, and there’s no other way to avoid this. So I bite the bullet and head for the den. The Enderbeys left at some point—thank God. Mama’s in her rocking chair watching some British soap opera and Daddy has the latest John Grisham out, his brow furrowed deeply at the page.

  I try not to flinch as they both turn to look at me. Daddy, with a look of resignation in his eyes. Mama, with a mixture of disappointment and hurt in hers, as if I’ve done something to personally offend her.

  I guess I have. I’ve become my own person and it’s not the person she wants me to be.

  “Just wanted to say good night. I’m going to sleep.” I turn to leave.

  “Abigail, wait.” Daddy sets his book down and slides his glasses off. “Come in here and talk to us for a moment, please. Let’s not go to bed angry.”

  He doesn’t sound angry, at least. I veer around Mama to sit down in the wooden kitchen chair next to his bed.

  No one says anything, but Mama’s lips are pressed firmly together like it’s taking everything in her power not to speak. Her face is literally turning red from the challenge.

  He sighs. “That’s some truck you’re driving.”

  I sigh. “It is. Henry thought I’d appreciate it and he was worried about me driving my old truck. It’s
not in the best shape. He thought this would be a lot safer.”

  “No, it’s not. You’re right. And I like that he’s worried about your safety.”

  “If he were worried about her safety, he wouldn’t be—”

  “Bernadette!” Daddy’s voice booms in the old house.

  She clamps her mouth immediately.

  Creak.

  Thump.

  Creak.

  Thump.

  Creak.

  Thump.

  Back and forth on the rocking chair she goes, at a furious tempo.

  “We all want you to be happy. But it’s also important that you don’t lose sight of who you are. Sometimes things like money can make you say and do things that aren’t… things you’d normally do. You could end up not being proud of who you are one day, and it’s our job to try to not let that happen.”

  Is this his way of saying that I should be ashamed of having sex behind the barn with Henry?

  I sigh. “I know, Daddy. But I have to make my own mistakes and figure my own life out. And I can tell you now that no matter if Henry is in my life or not tomorrow, I’m not the same girl I was when I left for Alaska, and I’m happy for that. That girl would have taken Jed back. I never will. I’m too good for that.”

  Mama opens her mouth to speak but Daddy spears her with another glare.

  “We’ve heard you loud and clear, haven’t we, Bernadette?”

  Finally, she offers a nod, swallowing a few times until whatever opinion is burning a hole in her tongue dissipates. “You hit Jed. Hard enough to leave a welt.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just that he….”

  She arches a brow in warning and my excuses fade.

  “You’re right. There’s no reason good enough. I’m sorry.”

  Her gaze wanders to the TV, though she’s not paying attention to that. “Don’t say sorry to me.”

  I sigh. “I’ll call him.”

  She nods, and I can almost see her checking off a box in her list of “Things Abigail Must Do.”

  “The Enderbeys and I had a fine idea. We have that BBQ coming up and we’re fundraising to fix up the hall. We’re short on raffle prizes, so we figure if we sell tickets at fifty dollars apiece, that truck will fetch more than enough in no time. The phone’s already been ringing off the hook all day, with people who’ve seen you drivin’ it around town, asking about it.”