2. Harper
TWO
HARPER
Wyatt’s hand rested on my shoulder. "You should come back inside.” When I didn’t reply, his words turned to plea. “Harper…”
I shivered, my feet damp from the first snowfall of the year, and shook my head, determined. “Not yet.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Wyatt and Atticus exchange a look.
“Harper,” Wyatt continued, his voice gentler. “Your dad got spooked. He’s not coming back.”
Shaking my head, I pulled free from Wyatt’s grip. “You don’t know that.”
I ran to the end of the driveway, coming to a stop in front of the gate, a woman self-possessed. The large golden G affixed to the gate stared back at me, as if to taunt me. What had felt like a luxurious welcome just hours earlier, now made me think only of my dad, stuttering on the letter G.
Genocorp .
Everything kept coming back to the Carders. What had they done to him?
It felt like the thick black bars were closing in around me, making me a prisoner of the estate. I began to scratch and pull at the iron, the rage building within me. The G didn’t budge, but still, I couldn’t stop clawing at the damn thing.
“Harper.” Wyatt must have followed me to the gate. He rested his hand gently on my shoulder. My posture softened as my hands stopped their hopeless assault on the wrought iron.
Tears began streaming down my face as I let go of the bars. I turned my cheek into Wyatt’s chest and sobbed into the thick wool of his sweater, my anger turning to grief. “What’s going to happen to him?” My voice came out in a whisper.
He rubbed my back in slow, circular strokes. “Your dad will be okay. He’s survived on his own for the last ten years. Another night or two won’t make a difference.”
I could hear the hesitance in his voice. “But… you’re worried, aren’t you?” I looked up to meet his gaze, afraid his eyes would reveal something more.
But his eyes, dark without any traces of gold, gave nothing away. “All I care about right now is getting you inside where it’s warm.” He looked down at my feet, which were soaked.
“Okay,” I whispered reluctantly, stealing one last glance at the gate.
As if he could read my mind, Wyatt added, “If your dad is still close by, Tank and the Danes will find him.”
It was meant to be reassuring, but his words only added to my list of worries. Tank wasn’t my biggest fan to begin with, and I saw how they’d looked at my father, like he was some kind of… monster.
Maybe he was.
I should’ve been scared, but once the shock at seeing him had worn off, it was like the years had melted away and I was thirteen again, when he’d first disappeared. Underneath his grotesque appearance, he was still my dad . I could feel it, even if they couldn’t.
Wyatt walked me to the front door, his arm tight around my waist, as if he were afraid that I would change my mind. But I was freezing, and the warmth of the fire was beckoning me, as I put one foot in front of the other.
“I’ll stand guard, Boss.” Atticus hadn’t moved from his spot on the porch.
It felt strange to hear the word boss coming from someone who had been in charge just last week. But if there was any tension or resentment between the two sasquatches, they hid it well.
Wyatt nodded to Atticus, then walked me to the living room. He paused just outside the French doors. “Maybe this isn’t the best place…”
I shook my head. “I’m fine.” And it was the truth. The grief had already left my body, replaced by a new feeling of numbness.
The fire was still going strong, warming the large room. I sat in the same velvet wingback chair as my dad. The rope they had used to tie him lay discarded next to me on the Persian rug.
Wyatt frowned. “These socks need to go.” He kneeled before me and removed them, one at a time. If I didn’t feel so emotionless, I would have found it romantic. He gave my foot a firm squeeze and then picked up the rope. “I’ll be back with something warmer.”
Alone with my thoughts, my head swiveled to the antique grandfather clock in the corner. Had it only been ten minutes since my whole life had changed? I absentmindedly rubbed the soft hunter green fabric as I tried to think about anything other than my father.
A low cough came from the butler’s entrance, and I swiveled around. A tall woman stood in the doorway holding a mug, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry to bother you. I, uh, thought you might like something warm.”
Her kindness surprised me. “Thank you. That sounds nice.”
She set the mug on the small marble side table. “Don’t worry. It’s moss-free.” She winked.
“Well, that’s good. Wyatt warned me that it tastes awful.”
The woman shuffled back and forth on her feet. She seemed nervous, so I decided to be brave and take the first step. “I’m Harper. Though I guess you already know that.”
Her cheeks reddened. “Yeah,” she said. “Sorry for not introducing myself that day in the park. And for, uh, shadowing you. I was just following orders.” She shrugged.
I grinned to show that it was okay, that I understood. “I’m sure it can’t be easy to have to follow Wyatt’s orders,” I joked.
Her loud guffaw surprised me. Her hand quickly flew to her mouth to stifle it. “I’m Fiona,” she said with a smile. She reached out her hand, which I accepted, my own hand feeling tiny and insignificant in her large, firm grip.
The front door opened, and Atticus’s voice boomed through the mansion, “Tank’s back.”
Fiona yanked her hand away and shoved it in the pocket of her sweater. “I better go,” she whispered, scurrying back the way she’d come, just as Wyatt returned with a pair of sheepskin slippers. He slipped them onto my feet. The fur lining instantly warmed my bare skin.
His brow raised as he noticed the mug in my hand. “How…”
“Fiona,” I smiled.
He looked to the open butler’s door and I thought I saw the hint of a smile, before he turned his attention back to the commotion in the hallway.
Through the open French doors, I could see that Tank and the Danes had returned.
“Go home,” Tank ordered. The dogs bounded past the living room, their feet like heavy thunder along the hardwood flooring, as they rushed through the dog door to the backyard.
The tension in the mansion was palpable. Tank’s facial expression didn’t give anything away and I held my breath as Wyatt joined him in the hall.
“Any luck?” Wyatt said.
“No. That fucker is—”
“Tank,” Wyatt warned, glancing at me over his shoulder.
Tank’s annoyed sigh reverberated through the quiet mansion. “Fine. That creature is good at disappearing. The Danes couldn’t pick up any scent or trace of him. Anywhere.”
“Can we tap into the neighborhood cameras?”
“Atticus is on it. But he’s been in hiding for a long time. If he’s who he says he is, and…” his voice lowered, “he doesn’t want to be found, then he won’t be. Listen, Wyatt…” He glanced to the living room, through the open French doors, and we locked eyes. Tank’s eyes narrowed, brimming with hatred, before his attention turned back to Wyatt.
Their conversation turned to whisper, and I straightened in the chair turning my ear to the door, hoping to catch a few words. But it was impossible. Whatever they were discussing was not meant to be overheard.
My legs bounced anxiously as I sipped my Chai tea, and continued to warm up by the fire.
I’d finally given up on having my dad back in my life. Now that he’d reappeared, I was left with even more questions. And the unsettled feeling that my life was about to become even more complicated.
At night, the mansion was quiet and tranquil, a stark contrast from the noisy street where Savannah and I had lived. Wyatt paced back and forth by his bedroom door, muttering orders into his cell phone.
His bedroom... I guess that wasn’t accurate. I’d have to start getting used to it being our bedroom.
And our home.
How had a broke reporter working two jobs, ended up with a billionaire like Wyatt Westwood? It still felt like a dream.
There were some parts that I wished were just a dream, like my dad’s return. And the existence of werewolves, I thought, a shiver racing up my spine.
“No,” Wyatt yelled. “Hold off on telling V. We don’t need the South Americans getting involved yet. Not until we know what we’re dealing with. Especially after what happened with the wolves.”
He turned to where I was curled up under the thick comforter and mouthed, “Sorry.”
I gave a thumbs up and turned my attention back to my book, a thriller I’d grabbed off the shelf in the library.
“No. I promised Jax we wouldn’t contact him, for any reason,” Wyatt barked. “Besides, there’s limited reception in the Himalayas.”
After a few minutes, Wyatt hung up without saying goodbye. He set his phone on the black armoire and began changing into a pair of brown silk pajamas with a cursive WW embroidered on the pocket. They probably cost more than my rent.
“Really?” I asked, looking up from my book.
He looked at me confused.
“Since when does Wyatt Westwood wear pajamas to bed?”
His laugh was low and husky, sending goosebumps across my arms. “Since his girlfriend had a crazy…” He looked at his Rolex. “A crazy few months, if we’re being honest,” he sighed. “You’ve been through a lot, and today was just the tip of it. The last thing you need is to be tempted by these abs of steel.”
I laughed so hard it came out as a snort. “Forget the pajamas, Mr. Six-Pack.”
“Harper,” he growled. “We need to figure out a plan to keep you safe while we look into what your…” he paused, “dad warned us about.” He seemed uncomfortable at saying the word dad. Was he having doubts? “Think of the pajamas as a way to keep our minds focused.” He tapped the side of his forehead.
I slid a bookmark into the page and closed my book, setting it on the nightstand. Lifting the comforter, I patted the space beside me. “Seriously. Just ditch the pajamas and come to bed,” I groaned.
But the stubborn bastard buttoned the pajama top all the way to the collar, then crawled under the comforter, the bed shifting under his weight. The warmth radiating from his body brought the temperature up at least ten degrees.
I tugged at the hem of his top. “Really?” I leaned over, my hand grazing his cheek as I gazed into his eyes, my lips stopping inches from his. “It’s our first night living together. This is not how I pictured it going.”
His enormous hand covered mine and he sighed, before giving in and meeting my lips. The kiss started gentle, but quickly grew more fervent until we were both gasping for air.
But as quickly as he started, he stopped and pulled away. I sighed and rolled over, crossing my arms.
“Harper,” he pleaded. “I know I still have a lot to learn about human emotion, but I’m pretty sure that you went through something…” he paused, trying to find the right word, “traumatic today.” He swept his hand through his hair, only for it to fall back against his forehead. It was hard to focus on the words coming out of his perfectly sculpted lips. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you need time to process everything that’s happened.”
My arms uncrossed, flopping to my sides. “And I appreciate your concern. But right now, what I need is you .” I bit my lip and looked into his eyes, basking in their warm glow. “I’m sure that tomorrow will bring a whole new set of feelings and emotions, but right now, all I care about is ending today with a good memory.”
He looked torn, so I made the first move. Feeling emboldened, I climbed on top and straddled him. He reached out to touch the strap of the slip I’d bought for our first night together, lingerie that Savannah had helped me pick out. His eyes, slightly hooded, moved over it in appreciation. “I like this,” he murmured, his hand running down the soft, buttery French silk.
I leaned close to his ear and whispered. “When we remember today, I don’t want it to be for any of the awful stuff. I want to remember it as the day we took a huge step and moved in together; the day you gifted me an amazing library, the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me; and…” I held up my wrist, “the day you gave me this beautiful new charm. I love it.” The tiny gold key shone in the glow of the lamp.
I slowly peeled off the slip dress one strap at a time, letting it slip down to my waist. Wyatt moaned, his eyes heavy with desire as he gazed approvingly. I leaned in close until my lips stopped inches from his. “I want to remember it as the first of many nights like this.”
“The things you do to me, woman,” he growled. With one hand, he quickly flipped me onto my back, pinning me underneath him, as his lips met mine.
And then time slipped away, as we made a happier memory to end the day.