Chapter 1
ONE
The day had actually started out really well. When Scarlett Westbrook opened her eyes that morning, all she knew was that one of her best friends was getting married, the sun was shining on a beautiful autumn day, and life was good. No, life was great . She’d awoken in her plush bed, in a house she’d scrimped and saved to buy, feeling like finally, finally , things were coming together. The hard patches in her life were over, and now she could finally live. She rode that high, smiling, laughing, celebrating, up until it was time for her to make a speech at Lucy and Cormac’s wedding reception. That’s when things began to go wrong.
Microphone in hand, a tremulous smile on her lips, and a speech waiting in the phone she held in front of her, Scarlett could have easily laughed off what happened next. Wasn’t she outgoing and gregarious? Didn’t people tell her she was the life of any party? She could brazen it out, blush a little, and take the well-deserved laughter and ribbing with a few self-deprecating jokes of her own.
But life had exacted its toll from Scarlett over the past few years, and on the day of her good friend’s wedding, the laughter and good humor she wore as armor crumbled to dust.
She stood in her friend Lucy’s parents’ backyard with the rest of the guests. Lucy and Cormac had had a private ceremony that morning, and now they had gathered all their family and friends at the Barlows’ place for the reception. Casual it might have been, but the event wasn’t lacking in joy and merriment. The backyard had been strung up with fairy lights, music blasted from speakers, and friends and neighbors had drifted over to share in food and drinks and laughter.
Lucy looked fabulous in her gown. It was a showstopper of beading and tulle and elegance, and not at all what Scarlett would have envisioned for her quiet friend. The moment she’d seen Lucy step out of the car as she arrived at the reception, Scarlett knew Lucy had chosen well. An understated gown wouldn’t have made Lucy glow the way this one did. A subtle, simple dress wouldn’t have twinkled under the lights and reflected the incandescent happiness in Lucy’s eyes. The dress was perfect in its exuberance.
Besides, everyone deserved to dress up, especially on their wedding day.
Scarlett had donated hundreds of flowers from her shop for the event, arranging them all over the backyard and sunroom where guests celebrated the union of the happy couple. Around her were peonies in pale pink, deep fuchsia, and white; dahlias ranging from blush to the deepest red; elegant, trumpet-shaped calla lilies; carnations with their ruffled petals and lovely fragrance; roses and gardenias; and fronds and ferns and accompanying greenery. She’d raided her store for every beautiful, bright flower she could spare, because Lucy was a friend. The best of friends. Lucy had welcomed Scarlett with open arms, enfolding her in the group that had become almost like a family. Lucy’s quiet industriousness had had a soothing effect on Scarlett as she established herself in this new town. The dark-haired bride deserved all the flowers in Scarlett’s shop, and more.
Coming to Stirling, New Hampshire had been a rebirth for Scarlett, and today’s event was one of the first times in many, many years that she truly felt like she belonged. She’d been included before—morning bootcamps, coffees and brunches, nights out, moving days, backyard barbecues, holidays—but Lucy’s wedding was different. She, along with Lucy’s parents, Cormac’s family, and the rest of their friends, had brought the event together within a week, and Scarlett had felt like she’d been an integral part of the operation. She wasn’t just invited; she was important.
She was home.
After years of struggle, she’d found her people. For the first time in her life, the concept of a found family resonated with Scarlett.
She wanted so very badly for them to know how much she loved and appreciated them. She didn’t want self-deprecating jokes and blustering banter; she wanted to be authentic. She wanted to look at Lucy and tell her how much she appreciated the other woman’s friendship, how close she’d been to despair when she’d arrived in town, and how transformed she felt now that she’d found them. She wanted to lift her champagne flute in a toast to the new couple and wish them all the happiness in the world.
Unfortunately, what she wanted and what she got were two different things.
Because it was her laptop that had been needed to set up the microphone and projector, and it was her phone that she’d just swiped to unlock. The two devices knew each other; they were the best of friends too. And in their haste to show just how close they were, the laptop and the phone began to speak to each other, and they got the speakers and projector screen involved as well.
It was one big technological joke, and Scarlett was the punch line.
As she stood in front of all the people that had finally made her feel at home, her phone’s screen flicked away from the speech she’d written and automatically opened her audiobook app, which helpfully picked up right where Scarlett had left off that morning.
A surprised murmur went through the audience as the projector screen—which had been displaying a slideshow of adorable photos of Lucy, Cormac, and the rest of the gang—flicked to an image of an oiled-up man with a very impressive set of abs. The words Taken by the Shifter King were splashed across the bottom of the screen. Scarlett was intimately acquainted with that cover, since it belonged to one of her favorite books. There was a certain—ahem—chapter that she revisited frequently. She’d done so just a few hours earlier, in those wonderful hours when life was fantastic.
Fumbling, Scarlett tried to close the app, but she was holding it with her non-dominant left hand—the right being the one holding the microphone—and instead of closing the audiobook, her uncoordinated fingers flicked back to her speech by accident.
Meanwhile, the speakers crackled, and Scarlett’s face grew so hot so fast that passing out was a real possibility. Yes, she’d been listening to a sexy romance novel earlier featuring a werewolf and his human mate. Yes, she’d paused it when she’d, well, finished with it. No, she hadn’t given it a second thought.
But she was giving it a second thought now. She was thinking very hard that she wished she’d flicked forward to the next chapter before closing the app.
“ ‘You’ll take all of me,’ Magnus growled, his beast riding close to the surface. I whimpered, thighs trembling with need. I could see the feral light in Magnus’s eyes, could feel his need in the tight clasp of his hand around my thigh. His claws had begun to emerge, pressing against my yielding flesh. ‘Yes,’ I gasped.”
Someone was cackling. Camilla? Someone else was scandalized, judging by the loud gasp. Murmurs grew in the assembled crowd. Scarlett heard it all like she was underwater, the noises distorted, distant.
She tried to get back to the audiobook app to end this humiliation. This wasn’t how the speech was supposed to go.
“ ‘Magnus wrenched my knees apart and positioned himself at my entrance. His breaths were sharp as he took himself in one hand, giving himself one last swift stroke before he ? — ”
The audiobook cut off before Magnus did his best to split the heroine, Adeline, in two, and Scarlett nearly wept with relief.
For about half a second.
Because a moment later, an automated female voice proclaimed, “ New message from: Gas Station Attendant Jimmy. Hey gorgeous. Missing those buns of yours. ”
Scarlett’s stomach plummeted. Her chest was suddenly an empty cavity, with nothing but gurgling horror beginning to fill the void.
Then the automated voice said, helpfully, “ A peach emoji. An eggplant emoji. A water droplets emoji. A winking face emoji. A crazy face emoji. A tongue emoji. Three kissing face emojis. ”
The one evening she’d spent with Gas Station Attendant Jimmy had been a horrible, horrible mistake. Scarlett realized that now.
The robot lady added: “ And. Gas Station Attendant Jimmy. Been a while. U free tonight? ”
Someone in the audience called out, “Who’s Gas Station Attendant Jimmy?” Someone else said, “Get it, girl!” People laughed.
Scarlett couldn’t breathe. Her vision was tunneling, and her hands trembled so hard she couldn’t get her stupid phone to do what it was meant to do.
She almost wished Magnus had done the deed with Adeline in front of all these people. It was better than a long-ago hookup trying to reconnect.
Another message came in, and Scarlett knew that if the man was in front of her, she’d wrap her hands around his neck and squeeze. Why was he messaging her? They hadn’t spoken in over two years!
The robot told the crowd, “ And. Gas Station Attendant Jim ? — ”
A high-pitched squeal made everyone wince, but the voice went blessedly silent. A second later, the screen was black.
Scarlett hyperventilated. Still struggling with the phone in her non-dominant hand, she finally shifted to hold the microphone under her armpit, put the phone in her right hand, flicked it into Do Not Disturb Mode, switched to the audiobook app, and shut it down with a flick of her thumb. She was trembling all over, the world unsteady beneath her feet. Her ears rang.
Face hot, she turned her back to the audience and sucked in a hard breath, trying to regain her composure. Tears sprang to the corners of her eyes, and a wave of mortification made her knees knock. She had moments—mere seconds—to put her mask back on, to pretend that she wasn’t so ashamed she wanted to disappear, to hope that Lucy wasn’t bothered that Scarlett had just blasted explicit werewolf sex at her wedding reception, and then followed it up with texts from a horny gas station attendant who’d decided tonight was the night to shoot his shot.
A part of her died in that moment. It was a little bud, its petals beginning to unfurl, the hope that had started to bloom with her new beginning in this town. While everyone recovered from the high-pitched squeal of the speakers, that budding hope wilted and died, a dried husk of what it could have been.
Scarlett couldn’t have friends—not the lifelong kind. No one would stick around when she did things like this. She couldn’t choose a decent man to save her life. She was destined to be alone, and this was just another piece of evidence stacked against her. Scarlett would forever be on the outside looking in.
The fact that her heart felt like it had turned black and perished in her chest was of no concern. It had happened before, and it would happen again. She could deal with this; she had no choice. She wouldn’t break in front of all these people—these kind, friendly people who had made her feel like she belonged. She’d show them what they wanted to see: a confident, slightly embarrassed but unapologetic woman who was comfortable in her own skin. Not a trembling little mouse who felt like her world had just ended. That version of Scarlett could only come out when she was alone again.
Inhaling once more, Scarlett forced herself to straighten her shoulders. She could do this. All she had to do was turn around, blast them all with a smile, and laugh as she covered her eyes with her hand, pretending to only be jokingly embarrassed to hide the true mortification poisoning her blood. Then she’d run away.
Her chin lifted—and she met the steady, piercing gaze of Archer Jones.
A fist wrapped itself around Scarlett’s stomach and squeezed. She’d known he’d been standing behind her, leaning against the doorframe that opened onto the sunroom. Their eyes had met for a moment before she’d brought the microphone up to her lips, eons ago when she’d been cool and collected and confident.
Now she was anything but.
He watched her through eyes that missed nothing, the pale color of his irises highlighted by his sun-darkened skin and the few fine lines extending from the corners of his eyes. She wasn’t used to seeing him in a suit, and the effect was slightly staggering. He wore his shirt open at the collar, revealing a corded throat and more bronzed skin.
Last time she’d seen him dressed like that, they’d crossed the bounds of friendship and entered murky waters. She wouldn’t do it again.
Lids heavy, Archer let his gaze roam over her face, down to her lips, and back up to her eyes. He had no right to look at her like that. Not after what had happened between them—and all that hadn’t.
His brows furrowed slightly as he met her gaze, and Scarlett wondered, distantly, what he saw written on her features. Could he tell the depth of her distress? Could he see how devastated she was to have messed up this moment? Would he be able to read just how much she’d wanted to honor her friendship with Lucy, and how ashamed she was to have made a mockery of it?
She blinked, banishing her shame somewhere deep below the surface. Now was not the time to fall apart.
Archer’s frown eased. No. He hadn’t seen what was inside her. Good.
Then his arm shifted, and Scarlett noticed the dangling ends of two cords between his fingers. The speaker and the projector. Her gaze rose to meet his again, and he arched a brow.
“Saved your life,” he said, voice pitched so only she could hear. Pushing himself off the doorframe, Archer stepped down onto the stair just above the one on which she stood. He smelled delicious; but then, she already knew that from before.
He was close enough to touch. Close enough that Scarlett could see the pale gray of his eyes, the little specks of darker blue. Close enough that she remembered how it felt to be in his arms.
She blinked, dropped her gaze, and took a step back. Retreated. She didn’t want to remember the feel of his lips against her skin or the way she’d been able to smell the scent of him for an hour after they’d parted. That would be treacherous. That would make her want things she could never have. They’d shared one ill-conceived encounter, and nothing like it would ever happen again.
Scarlett was an idiot, not a fool.
“I think you might owe me one after this,” Archer said, inspecting the ends of the two cords. His fingers were long, his palms calloused. A working man’s hands. The feel of them sliding against her thighs had done more than any fictional werewolf ever could. Archer touched the gold-tipped end of the speaker cord. “Who knows what Jimmy would have said next? The emojis were particularly telling. Sounds to me like he was stroking himself as swiftly as Magnus the werewolf.”
Was that an edge in his voice? Scarlett snapped her gaze back up to meet his, only to be met with an unrepentant grin. He was mocking her. Of course. Could she blame him?
“Who is this Jimmy guy, anyway?”
Scarlett’s embarrassment faded as a flash of anger took over. “That’s none of your business. Give me those.” She held out her hand for the cords.
Archer held her gaze and didn’t move. “You got a thing for gas station attendants? Is that why things didn’t work out between us?”
Scarlett managed a snort. “There was nothing between us that could or could not work out. We…made a mistake, that’s all,” she said.
It was the truth. They’d kissed, they’d fondled, and then they’d come to their senses. They were friends. Nothing more.
Which reminded her—she needed to turn around and face all the people who were waiting for her to make a speech.
Ignoring the brush of Archer’s fingers against hers as she took the cords from his grasp, Scarlett plugged everything in and tested the microphone by tapping on it. She forced herself to square her shoulders once more, and she took another deep breath.
Archer withdrew to the doorway again and watched her, tilting his head. It unnerved her, the way he seemed to see right through to the core of her. He wasn’t fooled by the bright smile she painted on her lips.
But she wasn’t here for Archer. She was here for her friend’s wedding.
Turning around, she faced the crowd, smiled, and said, “Let’s try that again.”