Four Weddings and a Werewolf

Chapter Nineteen

Veronica drove back to Hotel Monaco after the rehearsal, watching the headlights of Logan’s truck follow her from the Starlight Tower. Turn after turn, he was there, ever present. She couldn’t get him out of her head, and after seeing the way he gazed at her at the rehearsal, she realized he might be stuck in her heart, too. She turned into the self-parking garage, craning her neck around to see where he parked.

Directly across from the hotel.

She pulled into the first spot on her left and got out of the car. Instead of skirting to her room as quickly as possible so she wouldn’t be seen, she strolled across the street. Before she reached the driver’s door, Logan rolled down the window.

“What are you doing?” he said. “It’s cold. Come on, I’ll take you inside.”

She couldn’t go into the hotel where she’d have to tell him good-night and watch him walk away from her. Again. It didn’t feel right.

“Can I get in for a minute?”

There were things they needed to talk about.

His lips parted as if he was going to argue. She stormed around the hood of the truck as he killed the engine and pushed open the passenger door. She hopped in and stared straight forward, searching for the right words.

“Did you see something?” he asked, rolling up the window before turning to her.

“What?”

“On the drive over? Did you see something that spooked you?”

“No.” She shook her head and brushed her hands together for warmth. “I didn’t see anything. Only you.”

She never failed to spot Logan. Her eyes were drawn to him when he was near.

“I’m confused here, Veronica,” he said, turning the key to allow heat to flow from the vents. “You’re not acting like yourself. Everything all right?”

“Yes.” Her thoughts rattled. “No.”

“Want to shed some light?”

She glanced over at him. His eyebrows were raised in confusion. His eyes harbored a tired shadow. She yearned to slide across the seat and cuddle up to him, to brush her hand over his cheek and fall asleep in his arms. It didn’t matter if they were in the comfiest bed in Hotel Monaco or the lumpy bed of his truck.

She wanted to be by his side.

“Where do we stand?” she pushed out in a single breath.

“I was hoping we could be close.” He cleared his throat as a light sheet of rain started to drizzle on the windshield. “Friends, if you could get over your hatred of my kind.”

Veronica went cold despite the heat flowing into the cab. “Friends. Yeah. That would be great.”

Super-duper. He’s spoken the relationship-killing word. If she told him what she was feeling, maybe it didn’t have to be that way. If he knew that her hatred had waned, and that she was thinking about giving him a chance—was she crazy to be doing this?—it could change things.

Reality smacked her upside the head. Spewing her feelings wouldn’t change anything.

Logan didn’t want to get married. He didn’t want anything long-term.

“You told me what you wanted from the beginning,” she said, almost to herself. “You were clear about your intention.”

“Veronica, I—”

Logan leaned over, reaching out for her knee, but she flinched. One touch and she’d probably tell him everything. When they stood in front of Patrick, she’d glimpsed a future she never knew she wanted. She had the fleeting thought that they could be something great.

She’d be a fool to express her feelings to someone who didn’t share them. Not to the same extent, anyway.

Logan leaned back against the door, as far away as he could get. It was bizarre, but the bench seat seemed to lengthen, stretching them farther apart.

“When you left the bakery the other night, you seemed pretty damn upset,” he said. “You were eager to dish up dirt on me at the tasting, and edgy at the rehearsal. Now all of a sudden, you hop into my truck and ask where we stand? Why don’t you tell me, since I can’t crawl into that head of yours?”

She couldn’t meet his eyes, so she studied tiny raindrops sprinkling over the glass. “I wonder how far we would’ve gone if I never found out you were a wolf.”

“Not far. No one can live a lie.”

Damn it, he was right.

A few weeks ago, there was no way she would’ve contemplated a relationship with a werewolf. Logan felt the same about being trapped in a marriage. Even if she’d been caught up in the moment and witnessed a hint of promise sparking in his eyes at the altar, she couldn’t change what he wanted out of life. Ending things now, though surprisingly painful, would save her a massive heartbreak later when things got too serious for him.

“I think I was right to keep you at a distance,” she said.

He half laughed. “If that’s the way you feel, what are you doing in my truck?”

God, she didn’t know. She’d wanted to talk, to figure things out, to salvage…something.

But she’d insulted him away from the moment she found out who he was. When she discovered his wolf genes, she’d nearly closed him out completely.

He wanted something light. Who could blame him after she’d treated him so horribly?

She’d been completely wrong about him. He wasn’t easy to anger; he was passionate. He was also hardworking, loyal, kindhearted, witty, and protective in the sexiest way. He was perfect.

And she’d pushed him too far.

Friends.

“See you at the wedding,” she said, and slid out of the truck. She ran across the street, her throat burning with tears.

She’d just driven away the only man she never knew she always wanted.