Page 13 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

“No.”

I looked between them. Dad’s face had changed. The softness was gone, replaced by something still and careful.

“He’s being Grant,” I said.

Aunt Linda’s mouth flattened. “So yes.”

“I can handle Grant.”

“I know you can,” she said. “I just want a turn.”

Dad looked at me. “Cassie.”

“He made a comment where no one else could hear.”

“What comment?”

“One designed to make me react so I’d look unstable.”

Dad’s jaw worked once. Aunt Linda picked up the gin, unscrewed the cap, and took a neat sip.

“Fantastic,” she said. “I hope his photographer gets my good side when I ruin his rehearsal dinner.”

“No one is ruining the rehearsal dinner,” Dad said.

“I said hope. I didn’t say plan.”

“Linda.”

“Fine.” She handed me the bottle. “Drink. Smile. Eat the expensive food. If he corners you, you come find me.”

“And if Mom tells me to be the bigger person?”

Aunt Linda snorted. “Tell her you’re five foot five and tired.”

Dad opened the door. “We should go before your mother sends a search party.”

“No,” Aunt Linda said. “She’ll send guilt. It travels faster.”

The rehearsal dinner was on the west terrace, where the resort had arranged long tables beneath strings of warm lights and enough white flowers to make the air smell sweet and expensive. The ocean stretched beyond the stone railing, darkening as the sun lowered. A quartet played near the bar. Servers moved between guests with trays of champagne, crab cakes, and the kind of tiny food that forced people to pretend they were not still hungry.

It was beautiful.

Annoyingly beautiful.

The kind of beautiful that made betrayal feel overdressed.

Tessa stood near the center table in a white silk dress, glowing so hard she nearly needed a dimmer switch. Henry sat at her feet with his floral collar and pink leash attached to a chair leg. He watched Grant with the same distrust I felt, though his came with better hair.

Grant held court beside her.

That was the only word for it. He had one hand wrapped around a whiskey glass and the other resting on Tessa’s lower back. He laughed too loudly at his own jokes. He clapped men on the shoulder. He bent to kiss elderly relatives and somehow managed to make even that feel rehearsed.

When he saw me, his eyes dropped.

Aunt Linda made a noise beside me. “Pig.”

“Linda,” Dad warned.