Page 3 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

I knew better.

Grant’s gaze dipped again. Not far. Just enough.

I kept my face still.

“Thank you,” I said.

My mother exhaled, she thought we were having a mature moment.

That was adorable.

Grant leaned closer as Tessa turned to wave at one of her bridesmaids. His mouth barely moved.

“Blush was a dangerous choice for you,” he murmured. “Makes a man remember…things.”

There it was, the rot under the polish.

My fingers tightened around the garment bag. I could have turned my head. I could have repeated his words loudly enough for the valet, my mother, and three bridesmaids named something with an A to hear. I could have watched Tessa’s face collapse before the welcome cocktails.

Instead, I smiled, because every woman in my family had been trained to spot the person making a scene before the person making the wound. If I reacted, I would become the problem. Grant knew that. He had always known exactly where the walls were and how hard he could shove me into them without leaving a bruise anyone respected.

“How sweet,” I said, just as softly. “You still confuse memory with access.”

His smile held, but his eyes cooled.

Good.

Tessa turned back. “What are you two whispering about?”

Grant kissed her cheek. “Just telling your sister she looks lovely.”

My mother made a soft sound of relief.

I looked at Tessa’s glowing face and said nothing.

A woman in a dark green suit approached before the silence could curdle. She was tall, silver-haired, and elegant in the severe way of people who had never once rushed for a boarding group. Her name tag read Mara Holloway, Guest Director. She carried a tablet against her chest and wore a headset so slim it probably cost more than my first car.

“Ms. Morgan,” she said to Tessa with a small nod. “Mr. Carrington. Welcome back to Halcyon Ridge.”

“Everything looks incredible,” Tessa said.

“We’re pleased to have you.”

Mara’s gaze swept over the rest of us. Polite. Fast. A little too aware.

Mara’s mouth curved by one polite millimeter. “Your rooms are ready. The west wing has been reserved for the wedding party. The east grounds are closed for a private event during your stay.”

“Private event?” I asked.

“A family ceremony.”

“Yours or someone else’s?”

“Halcyon Ridge is a family property.”

That was not an answer. It was wearing an answer’s coat.

Tessa leaned closer to me. “There’s this whole garden section we can’t use, but they gave us the beach terrace instead. It’s gorgeous. You won’t even care.”