Hot Blooded (Wolf Springs Chronicles) - By Nancy Holder Page 0,78
Katelyn insisted. The change in Cordelia was remarkable. When she thought of herself in terms of belonging to her pack, she was stronger.
“Even if I can’t be there, you’re there. And you have to be there for me.”
Katelyn heard a muffled sound and then the call ended.
The entire drive home she just kept replaying the conversation in her mind. When she made it home she headed straight upstairs, got out the sketch again and stared at the heart-shaped boulder in frustration. The real painting was supposed to have coordinates underneath the signature. Who had it? She thought of the piece of silver dropped outside the Inner Wolf compound. And the rest, simply dumped into a bog. Why? It seemed highly unlikely to her that one of the executives who was there for a few days would have managed to leave, break into her grandfather’s cabin, steal things, and sneak back into the center. Besides, they would take the silver, wouldn’t they? Why dump it in a bog — was that some kind of implied werewolf threat that they could poison Fenner land? They wouldn’t know about the painting. They’d be strangers to the area. So who would know there was a painting to steal?
Mr. Henderson.
Or . . . Jack Bronson?
Let the tire have a flat now, Katelyn intoned. Let the truck break down here.
She sat beside her grandfather in the cab of his truck as they bounced along the road, heading to the Fenners’ house for Thanksgiving. Mordecai had on the suit he’d worn to Cirque du Soleil and she was wearing the same black dress. She felt as if they were going to their own funerals. She’d briefly considered wearing the new red dress, but red was the color of blood as well as boldness and she didn’t want to give anyone any ideas. Every nerve was strung tight; she could feel each molecule of air touching her skin.
This is sheer insanity.
Mr. Fenner had ordered her to attend Thanksgiving dinner with the family. When she’d protested, explaining that her grandfather would expect her to have dinner with him, he had told her to bring him along.
“It’ll be like the old days,” he’d said happily. Regan, Justin and Doug had been in the room, and all they did was slide glances at each other and agree with him. Because he was their alpha.
Untroubled, her grandfather was whistling a Christmas carol. For all he knew, they were just going over there because Katelyn had a thing for Justin. She’d asked him to go, and with Trick spending the day with his mom and dad for once, he’d said yes, and here they were.
Finally they angled down the steep driveway, revealing the Fenners’ fantastic house, and Katelyn thanked the gods when she didn’t see a bunch of cars. She hadn’t known if the whole pack would be coming or not. Apparently, though, it was just “family.”
And us. If she asked her grandfather to leave, no questions asked, what would happen?
“Here we are,” her grandfather said, shutting off the engine.
They got out of the truck and walked up to the front door. Her grandfather was carrying a bottle of red wine. She rang the doorbell and Jesse, in a suit with his hair slicked back, opened the door.
“Kat’s here!” he hollered.
Katelyn winced, hoping he didn’t do or say anything that would raise a red flag with her grandfather who, after all, might or might not already know about the existence of werewolves.
“Hey, Jesse,” she murmured and let him kiss her cheek as he whined in her grandfather’s direction.
“You remember my grandpa?” she asked, heart in her throat.
“Not a stranger,” Jesse said slowly, almost questioningly.
Before either of them could answer, Justin appeared in the doorway. He, too, was wearing a black suit that fit him beautifully. Black was definitely his color.
“They’re our guests, buddy,” he said. “We talked about this. Let them in.”
She could hear the tension in his voice. He was nervous, too.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” her grandfather said, offering his hand.
Justin shook it, and after a moment, so did Jesse.
“Brought this.” Her grandfather held out the bottle of wine, and Katelyn glanced around, expecting Mr. Fenner to appear. He was their official host. Shouldn’t he answer the door to his home and welcome them in?
Maybe alphas don’t do that, she thought.
“Thanks,” Justin said to her grandfather. He held the bottle up to the light. “Wolf Creek Vineyards. That around here?”
“No, but I like their wines,” her grandfather replied.