Four Weddings and a Werewolf

Chapter Fifteen

It was Wednesday when Veronica got the call: Forever Delicious had hired a new baker who wanted to try a different flavor of cake for Leah and Jake’s wedding. If Leah could just come in, taste, and approve the change, Forever Delicious would throw in the traditional groom’s cake for free, in hopes that the uniqueness of it would get people talking about the cake and the company. It was a good deal…if Leah was willing to do some sampling.

Veronica arrived at Forever Delicious, fully aware that Logan had been following her from the second she pulled away from Hotel Monaco. At first, when she’d seen his truck out the rearview mirror, she’d been irritated. Bothered to no end that she had to put up with a werewolf dogging her every move. But then the sun would shine through his driver’s side window and she’d get a glimpse of his face…and her entire demeanor would change. She’d thought more than once about telling him to just get in her car—it was a horrible waste of gas since they were going to all the same places anyway.

But then she’d think of her sister, the wounds that had bled on her neck, and the werewolf who was still out there. If Logan wasn’t at her side, following two steps behind her, Veronica would’ve probably been too stressed to function. Between the weddings, the appointments, and the notes, it would’ve been too much to handle. But Logan somehow made things seem clear. Easy. There was nothing to worry about when she was standing beside his strong frame, watching his gaze scan the sidewalks behind her.

How had it happened? How had she come to depend on a wolf to feel safe? The concept was ludicrous. Backward. Why, then, did it felt so right?

Going along with business as usual—all she could do, given the circumstances—Veronica walked into the small cake shop and was instantly chilled. There was someone out there, right now, watching her. Was he walking by the shop? Across the street? As quickly as the feeling came, it disappeared, leaving her feeling just as she had before: painfully aware that she wanted Logan beside her.

“Be right with you,” a guy in a chef’s hat and ballooning apron said from behind a long white counter.

“No worries.” Veronica set down her bag and started flipping through a book stand with laminated pictures of wedding cakes. The cakes were beautiful, no doubt. There were multitiered cakes with smooth whipped frosting and flowers dripping down the sides. There were waterfalls of fondant. Sugar crystals lining the bottom. Roping around every tower.

Although Veronica could admire the handiwork and talent that went into making those cakes, she’d never actually envisioned her wedding having one. When she dreamed of her wedding, she pictured a beach. A floral arch and the man of her dreams standing beneath it. A simple bouquet of her favorite flower—soft pink roses tied with a white ribbon. No cake, but dinner and drinks after with close friends and family to celebrate. And she’d be barefoot, with a simple white dress that flowed to her ankles.

No fuss. No worry or stress like the others she planned on a regular basis.

She flipped a tab to the section on groom’s cakes, just in case she approved of the new flavor that the baker was offering.

The groom’s cakes were supposed to mean something to the groom. There were green-frosted cakes made to be a putting green, fishing-inspired ones with blue waves of whipped frosting coating the sides and bottom. A cake for every groom, something catered for every interest.

“I’ve always wondered why people like those,” Logan said from beside her.

She jumped at the sound of his voice, but was instantly comforted by his presence. “People like them because usually the bride is the one who does all the wedding planning, and her style is prevalent in everything from the dresses, to the flowers, to the favors. But the groom’s cake is for the groom. His style and what he enjoys.”

“I think it’s lame.”

“Well yeah, because you can’t make a cake look like a full moon.”

“Sure I can,” the baker said from the counter. “Round cake, yellow and white buttercream frosting. It’d be no problem, if that’s what you wanted.”

Veronica laughed, her chest tight. “No, that won’t be necessary. I’m Leah Vale and I’m here to try out the new flavor for my wedding cake.”

Logan stood beside her, continuing to flip through the book as if he hadn’t heard what she just said.

The baker checked his computer screen, moused down a few pages, then smiled. “Right here. The Vale-McKenna wedding. It’s going to be a gorgeous cake—a masterpiece.” He looked up at Logan. “You must be Jake.”

“N—” Veronica started.

“The one and only,” Logan blurted, striding up to shake the baker’s hand. “Great to meet you. I really admire your work.”

Oh, he really could lay it on thick.

“That’s kind of you,” the baker said, his smile stretching ear to ear. “It’s always great to hear your work is appreciated.”

Veronica stepped up to the counter and clutched at the strap of her handbag so that she wouldn’t punch Logan in the face. “What’s the new cake flavor you wanted me to try?”

“Wanted us to try, dumpling.” Logan wrapped his arm around Veronica’s shoulder. She tried to shrug him off the way she did before, but this time he held tight. “You’re always making decisions without me. I’d like to be included on this one, if you don’t mind.”

“We don’t get too many grooms wanting to be included in the wedding cake decision-making process,” the baker said, digging into the fridge on the back wall. “You’ve got a great one there, Ms. Vale.”

“Oh, yeah, he’s a winner,” Veronica said, jerking away from him. “Definitely the top of the pack.”

Logan huffed into a laugh, then took a seat at the table behind her. “Why don’t you sit, sweetheart. We’re about to have a real treat.” He kicked out her chair.

Veronica sat down as the baker put a silver tray in front of them. Eight plates with small cake squares covered the tray and begged to be eaten. Her stomach growled.

“The new flavor is on the tiny pedestal in the center, but I’ve included all the other testing flavors as a treat.” The baker stood back and waited, watching. “Dive in.”

“I think I’ll take this one.” Veronica took a bite out of the brown one that she hoped was plain ole chocolate. “Mmm…” She closed her eyes and licked her lips as the richest chocolate she’d ever tasted hit her tongue. It was moist and rich with subtle hints of mocha and caramel. “That’s delicious,” she said. When she opened her eyes, both men were looking at her as if she’d just had an orgasm in the store. “What? Can’t a girl enjoy a slice of heaven?”

“That’s the one you vetoed on your last visit,” the baker said. “At least that’s what’s written on your chart. I wasn’t here to know for certain, but I can make a change if you’d like.”

That’s right—Leah hated chocolate. “I’m sorry, but my tastes change so much nowadays, it’s difficult to keep track. Whatever I chose before will suit just fine.”

“Wish your opinion would change as easily when it came to other things.” Logan made the jab quickly, then picked up a square of white cake and shoved the whole thing into his mouth. “Oh meah,” he mumbled, mouth full of marbled white and red. “Nthat raspbberby?”

The baker clapped his hands over his robust belly. “It’s white cake with cream cheese and sprinkles of fresh raspberries spread in the center.”

“It’s tasty.”

“Geez, you really wolfed that one down.” Sighing, Veronica leaned back in her chair. “You’re making a terrible mess.”

“Darling, if I’ve got something on my face, why don’t you lick it off?” He leaned in close, puffing out his cheek, but when Veronica simply stared, he returned to his previous position, practically drooling over the cake. “Don’t mind if I take another then.”

He picked up one that was buttery-yellow with a brown center and chomped off a huge bite.

“Howl’s that one?” Veronica smiled, enjoying the fire blazing in her belly. “Good?”

Ignoring her completely now, Logan slid a napkin from beneath one of the trays and smashed it across his lips.

“I’m truly sorry for the mess my fiancé is making,” Veronica said to the baker. “I should keep him on a tighter leash.”

Logan choked. Veronica smacked him hard on the back. “Oh, are you okay, Jake?”

He composed himself, but it took longer than a minute for him to wipe the scowl off his face.

“That’s the Italian rum cake.” The baker smiled proudly. “One of my personal favorites.”

“Jake, honey, you should slow down or the baker isn’t going to know which one you truly enjoy and which one you’re just pretending you enjoy until you find one better.” She shot him a slanted smile. “I know how you don’t like to commit to things, but he’ll need a decision before we leave today.”

“I may not come to decisions easily, but at least he knows I enjoy his baking. If I take a bite of this one”—he bit half of a yellow square—“and moan and groan, that means I like this cake, whether it’s lemon or butter yellow or pineapple. It’s good, by the way.” He nodded at the baker, who smiled without showing his teeth. “But it wouldn’t make a damn lick of sense if I picked up this piece of cake, moaned and groaned and screamed its praises to high elevator-shaft heaven, then when I found out that it was lemon, tossed the sucker in the trash and cursed this poor guy out.”

“I’ll, uh, be waiting in back.” The baker skirted behind the counter.

Hearing his message loud and clear, Veronica leaned over the table. “But that lemon cake wasn’t responsible for ruining someone’s life.”

Logan frowned. “How can lemon cake ruin someone’s life?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake! It can’t, but I was just—” She threw her arms over her head. “Forget it, okay? I might’ve moaned and groaned or whatever, but that was before I knew what you were.”

“Why does that matter?”

“What do you care, anyway? It’s not like what happened between us is going to turn into anything either of us want.” The fire in her belly was gone now, replaced by a feeling of emptiness that hundreds of squares of cakes couldn’t fill. “I can’t be with a wolf, I won’t. You guys can’t be controlled and what happens if we get in a fight or something and—”

“You mean fights like we’ve been having since we met each other?”

Her head fogged. “You don’t want to be with me anyway.”

“I do, actually.” His eyes shone a honey shade of brown. “More than I should, and in more ways than you can imagine.”

Numbness tingled beneath her skin, as if her nerves were waking up after being kinked for too long.

“Know what I don’t understand?” He leaned over the table, planting his elbows on the edge. “Your sister was attacked by someone from our pack, yes. And she went through a really difficult transition, I’ll give you that. But she’s happy now. She and Jake are in love and going to spend the rest of their lives together. I may not want the same things Jake wants, but I’m smart enough to know a perfect fit when I see one. They belong together. How can you possibly hate wolves, when you see how much joy being one has brought to your sister and my best friend?”

His words sliced through her. “You’re right, you don’t understand,” she said, barely able to speak. “Our parents died when we were teenagers. We’ve lived on our own since then, Leah and me, just the two of us. We’ve looked after each other and been by each other’s side through everything…well, everything except this stalking fiasco.”

“I’m sorry about your parents.” Logan ripped another napkin from beneath the plate and started wringing it out. Veronica wondered absentmindedly if that’s how Logan controlled his anger—the clenching fists, wringing things out and balling them up in his hands. “How’d they die?” he asked.

“Car accident. Drunk driver swerved over the yellow line. It was a long time ago, but it hurts like it happened yesterday.” He reached for her hand. She pulled it back and set both hands in her lap. If he touched her now, she’d lose her composure and fall apart completely. “Leah was the only family I had left in the world. The only person who really, truly knew me. We were family.”

“Why are you talking about her in the past tense?”

“It’s not the same as it was before.” It was the only way Veronica could explain it.

“You mean she’s not the same.”

“She’s part of your wolf pack now. She’s got a new husband, a new family of über-protective wolves surrounding her. Where am I in the mix of all that?” Anger flashed through her veins. “I’m left out. I’m not a part of your pack functions or holidays. She’s moved on and I’m—”

“Left behind,” he finished for her. “You feel alone again, like when your parents died. You’re not angry, you’re grieving.”

“No, that’s not what’s happening at all.” She shook her head and leaned over the cakes, pointing into Logan’s chest. “I’m saying that a werewolf took Leah from me. He took away the only family I had left and ripped my heart out.”

She couldn’t talk about this anymore. She just couldn’t do it. The pain was too much to bear.

After her parents died, Veronica couldn’t function. Between the courts and the paperwork, she didn’t have time to grieve. She didn’t shed a single tear, not even at their funeral. To survive, she shut out the pain. But she shut everything else out, too. For years, there was no happiness and no laughter in her life. No purpose. In order to separate the two, Veronica foolishly imagined there was a door to her emotions that only she could access. She envisioned doors that led to happiness, and others that led to pain. She went into the wedding business to keep herself walking forward, opening door after door that led to happiness.

The fact that it always led to others’ happiness didn’t matter.

Odd, but she’d never thought of the childish coping mechanism until today. Not until this moment. All she wanted to do was get out of this bakery and forget Logan Black ever walked into her life.

“Excuse me,” she called to the baker as she stood. “I don’t need to taste any more. We’re going to take the new flavor. Make the groom’s cake inspired by whatever you’d like.”

“Veronica, wait a second.” Logan grabbed her hand as the baker approached. “You’re not wrong to feel the way you do, but you shouldn’t be angry. Stay. Stay and talk to me.”

Veronica hesitated, and for the first time, wanted to let someone in. But with Logan, the consequences were too great. She remembered all too clearly the fight in front of the Nightshade hotel. The scene had been ripped straight from her nightmares. Logan had wanted to protect her, but he was willing to fight to the death. To kill another like it was no skin off his snout. Murderous genes were in his blood, weren’t they? What happened if she hooked up with Logan and they got in a fight and he got angry with her in the same way? He’d shift and if he wasn’t careful, he would hurt her. She’d constantly have to walk on eggshells so she wouldn’t make him lose control. That wasn’t the kind of life she wanted, one where she couldn’t do or say things in fear of making her partner angry.

Her heart lurched with uncertainty and agony, soul-wrenching stings that speared through her. Turning her back on Logan and the feelings of loss washing over her, Veronica walked out the door and made sure it latched behind her.