6. Chapter 6
Arlo
Oh goddess, save us. How I wish Gunnar and I were connected through a pack bond right about now.
Gunnar clears his throat. “Would you like to tell them or shall I, dear?”
The endearment makes my cheeks flush. Damn it, how could we not have thought of this? We’d discussed the location, but I don’t even remember if we agreed on who proposed to whom. Him or me?
I plaster on a cheerful smile. There’s no time to overthink this. “Oh, it was so romantic. We were sailing on Gunnar’s boat—”
“Ship,” Gunnar interjects.
I arch a brow at him because, really? “They both float. What’s the difference?”
“You take a boat mayhap a few miles from shore. Catch a few fish. Come back. But a ship? She’ll carry you to the horizon and back. Trust in her to protect you from the harshest storms, and she’ll always bring you home.”
Huh. That was… rather sweet. Romantic, almost.
Every time my morose lumbersnack talks about sailing, he lights up.
It’s adorable.
Too bad my own trust has been broken once already, and I’ll be damned before I let it happen again.
“Of course, stud muffin. How could I forget?” I give his hand a pat that’s more like a smack, then continue.
“We sailed toward the setting sun on Gunnar’s ship—not a boat!
—and when I turned, he was on bended knee, holding out this beautiful ring!
” I hold out my hand so they can see Gunnar’s stunning craftsmanship.
Mum gasps in delight and Nan just about swoons.
“And what did he say?” Mum presses, looking expectantly at my faux fiancé. Nan and Dad focus their attention on Gunnar as well. He clears his throat.
“Well, I… I told him…” His silver gaze finds mine.
“Mum, easy!” I say, dismissing Gunnar with a wave. “He’s quite shy.”
“I told him,” Gunnar says, tone sure and steady, “that I’d never loved another like him, and that there would be no greater honor in this life than to share it by his side.” There’s a catch in his voice, a quiver of something. Sadness?
“That’s so sweet,” Mum says, her smile all ooey-gooey, a hand to her heart.
“It really was,” I say, and my voice comes out far too breathless. How could I have known this moody guy was so… tender and romantic?
“I’m going to refill the kettle,” I say, springing up and betraying that my cup’s still half full when tea splashes on my hand. The burning sting becomes less tolerable once I’m in the kitchen. Damn, did Mum heat the kettle over a volcano?
While the kettle boils, I run my hand under cool water.
“Why didn’t you tell us about him?” Dad’s voice makes me sigh.
Drying my hands on my pants, I turn to face him. “Because I knew how you’d react. I mean, really, Dad? Bringing up some raid from a thousand years ago, as if that has any relevance!”
Dad rubs the back of his neck, eyes fixed on his feet. I grab the steaming electric kettle, but before I can flounce off in a huff, Dad says, “You’re sure about this? About him?”
I whip around, hardly able to contain my astonished laugh. “Pretty sure, yeah, since we’re engaged.” I can’t help feeling more than a prickle of annoyance on Gunnar’s behalf. He’s been nothing but gracious and patient.
Dad folds his arms, brow furrowed. “Lo, after everything that happened, how can you trust shifters?”
“He’s not the one who attacked me. You can’t blame every shifter for the actions of one,” I reply.
“You almost died!” Dad says, anguish thickening his voice. “I don’t want to see you hurt again.”
Memories rear their ugly heads, of waking up in hospital, confused and hurting everywhere. Mum’s tear-streaked face, Dad’s red-rimmed eyes. The way my stomach had sunk when I remembered what had happened, who had hurt me. The sour taste of bile in my throat, the sting of tears in my nose.
Why? Why had he hurt me? What had I done?
“Gunnar wouldn’t—he’d never hurt me.”
I’d thought the same about the last shifter and have the scars to prove how very, very wrong I was. Still, Gunnar doesn’t deserve to be judged just because he happens to be the same species as… as him.
“Gunnar made that ring,” I say, pleased when surprise lifts my father’s brow. “By hand. It must have taken him hours but he did it anyway. He wanted it to be from the heart. That’s the kind of man he is. And anyone would be lucky to have him. Give him a chance. Maybe he’ll surprise you.”
Kettle in hand, I go back to the sitting room.
“Your brother did that?” Mum’s laughing so hard, her eyes are teary.
Gunnar nods, grinning so wide that a dimple flashes in his cheek. A bloody dimple. “Aye! Lyall’s tongue was stuck to that icicle for a whole day!”
Nan and Mum only laugh harder, and something loosens in my chest, making me smile. They like him already, and Gunnar’s blooming like a flower in their presence, showing a soft side of himself that makes my heart skip.
I can’t remember the last time my family liked a bloke I brought home.
Damn it.
This is fake. Fake.
If I just keep reminding myself of that, maybe my stupid heart will understand.
We end up spending the rest of the day with my parents. My face hurts from smiling, and laughter has rendered my throat quite thoroughly hoarse.
When Gunnar yawns behind his fist, I check the time on my phone. “Goodness! It’s about time we were off.”
Mum’s face falls. “Absolutely not! It’s dark and stormy outside. The roads aren’t safe.”
I part the curtains, shocked to find rain streaking the windows. When the hell did this storm start? I check the forecast on my phone and sigh. It’s supposed to last all night.
“Stay the night, both of you,” Mum insists.
“You’re sure?” Gunnar asks.
“Of course. You can have the guest bedroom.”
Mum leads us to the spare bedroom. Rain sluices the windows, obscuring the normally gorgeous view of the woods. Mum and I grab some fresh linens from the closet, and I insist on helping her make the bed while Nan shows Gunnar to the bathroom.
“Honey, I was thinking,” Mum says, tucking the sheet under the corner of the mattress, “why don’t you let us host your wedding?”
I look up with a jolt of surprise. “No, no! I wouldn’t want you to go to all that trouble.”
“It’s no trouble at all,” she assures me. “We can host the wedding in our barn.”
My heart clenches. On the rare occasions I’d imagined getting married, I’d always thought that the barn on my family’s property would be perfect. The one thing I hadn’t imagined was that my future husband would be fake.
Knowing it won’t be a real wedding makes me not want to do it at all.
“The barn’s a mess,” I say, trying to dismiss the idea.
Mum waves a hand. “It won’t even take an hour to get it fixed up. Of course, it’s your wedding. You can do as you like. I thought it would be nice, that’s all.” She unfurls a quilted blanket and spreads it over the bed.
It hurts to think that none of this will be real, but that’s not what should matter.
If we’re hosting the wedding in the barn, that will give me an excuse to stay near my family.
They’ll have more opportunity to get to know Gunnar.
I have no doubt he’ll win them over in no time, and the sooner that happens, the sooner I can get the final ingredient for my potion.
“I’ll ask Gunnar and if he’s on board, then so am I,” I tell her, giving her a thankful smile.
Speak of the devil, Gunnar steps through the doorway. “Thank you for your hospitality,” he says to Mum.
“It’s my pleasure. Have a good night, boys.”
Once she’s gone, I turn to face Gunnar—and the single bed. Heat runs down my neck. Gunnar drops his gaze to the floor, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll take the floor.”
“You don’t have to.”
Gunnar grabs a pillow and an extra blanket. “It’s no hardship. I’ve slept on less comfortable surfaces whilst I was away from home hunting.”
“You go that far away to hunt?” Surely he could find prey closer to home or butcher livestock.
Gunnar shrugs. “Being out in the open wilderness helps clear my head.”
“Is that safe? Doesn’t your wolf need a connection to his pack?” It makes me nervous imagining Gunnar spending long hours away from his family.
He tosses the pillow down and sits on the hardwood floor, blanket bunched under his arm. “I manage just fine.”
The harsh bite in his words hits me like a physical shove. Now that we’re away from my family, the man who charmed my coven is gone. Gunnar’s back to being his distant, grumpy self. We’re back to being… nothing to each other.
Which is… fine. Just fine. Expected, even. Gunnar’s sticking to our arrangement. Good for him! The only question is, what the hell am I doing?
Gunnar turns away, shoulders stiff. “I… I only meant—”
“No, I get it.” Turning away, I peel off everything but my underwear. “It’s not my business anyway. My bad!” I force a laugh, hoping I sound less hurt than I feel. Damn it. I’m such a moron. What am I doing worrying about him?
Freya, help me. I kick back the covers and pull them up to my ears.
“Arlo—”
“Good night, sleep tight!” I flick off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.
The blankets on the floor rustle, the boards creaking softly when Gunnar lies down with a low sigh.
I screw my eyes shut. Truth is, I’ve had it bad for this man from the moment we first met.
I can’t say what drew me to him. Maybe it was the way his grumpy expression softened into a smile when I teased him.
How he caught me in his arms when I fell, holding me to his hard, warm chest. When he’d growled a single word that turned my world on its head.
“Mate.”
Only to break my heart seconds later when he rejected me.
I won’t be foolish enough to give him the chance to do it again.