Page 6 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

Mara’s smile returned. “The island has wildlife.”

“What kind?” I asked.

“Nothing that troubles guests who follow posted restrictions.”

Another answer hidden in liability terms.

Henry wriggled in Tessa’s arms and looked east, toward the black hedges. A low sound came from his tiny chest, like some kind of whine mixed with a growl.

Tessa laughed. “Oh, stop. You’re fine.”

Mara’s expression didn’t change.

“Shall we get everyone checked in?” she asked.

Inside, Halcyon Ridge smelled of salt, citrus, and expensive candles. The lobby opened under carved beams and tall windows that threw afternoon light across pale stone floors. White flowers sat in black bowls. Water moved somewhere behind a wall, quiet and tasteful.

There were no seashells. No bright murals. No cheerful sign promising paradise. This was a resort for people who found typical island paradise vulgar.

A receptionist greeted us by name before anyone introduced us. An attendant offered champagne. Another presented warm towels with silver tongs, as though our hands had done something to earn ceremony.

My aunt Linda accepted champagne from two different trays and winked at me. Aunt Linda had never met an open bar she could not turn into a personal advantage.

“Cassie,” she said, drawing me into a one-armed hug. “You made it.”

“I did.”

“Proud of you.”

“For attending?”

Aunt Linda grinned. “For not committing a felony.”

“I haven’t ruled anything out.”

She winked. “Good girl.”

My father appeared behind her with his reading glasses tucked into his shirt pocket and travel exhaustion sitting heavy around his eyes.

“Cassie girl,” he said.

That one nearly got me.

I hugged him fast. He held on longer than necessary, which was my father’s way of saying everything he didn’t have words for. He knew Grant had hurt me. He knew Tessa had helped. He also knew my mother had decided forgiveness was easier to seat at a reception than rage.

“You all right?” he asked quietly.

“I’m wearing blush chiffon in public.”

“So no.”

“I’m managing.”

His eyes moved over my face. “You don’t have to prove anything.”

I swallowed. “I know.”

He nodded, though neither of us believed me.