WOLF BAIT
Wolf Cove, Book One
By Nina West
Copyright 2015 Nina West
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Editing by Hot Tree Editing
Cover design by Nina West
Published by Nina West
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter One
February
“I didn’t mean for it to happen, Abigail. I swear!”
“You didn’t mean for it to happen! You didn’t mean to put your...” My words fall apart with my sobs. I can barely see Jed’s face through my tears. Tears that haven’t stopped since I ran for my dorm room earlier today. Tears that have left my skin raw and tight. And every time I think I’m all cried out, the image of Jed and her flashes inside my head and a fresh wave hits.
I wipe my dripping nose against my sweatshirt sleeve. I’m far past the point of caring what I look like. “Who is she, anyway?”
“Nobody important.” He brushes his own tears away with his palm and then reaches for my face, cupping my cheeks. “You are my whole life. You’ve always been my whole life. Always! You know that, right? Tell me you know that!”
I swallow against the sharp knot lodged in my throat but it doesn’t budge. I knew that. Up until today. “Then why would you break my heart?”
His handsome face flinches as if I’d slapped him. Something I wish I had the nerve to do. “You weren’t supposed to find out.”
Oh my God! “That makes it better?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying.” He hangs his head for a moment. “Look, we’re getting married next year and then it’s just you and me. It’s been just you and me for all these years. And,” he swallows, hesitates, “this is something I’ve been thinking about. A lot, lately.”
“About cheating on me?”
“No! About, you know...” He winces. “Sex.”
That’s what this is all about? “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have—”
“No, Abigail.” Jed’s face is suddenly stern. “You and me, we’re doin’ it the right way by waiting until we’re man and wife. You’re so innocent. So pure.” He leans forward, pressing his forehead against mine. “It means everything to me that you’ll give that to me on our wedding night. But”—a sheepish look overtakes his face—“I’m a guy. It’s different for me.”
“How is it different?” Who is this person sitting in front of me?
“Because we’re weak! This is something I need to do. I need to get this out of my system, or I’m afraid I’ll make a mistake down the road, when it really matters. Trust me on this one. You don’t want me straying later on, when we have kids, do you?”
I’m listening, but I’m not believing these words coming out of Jed’s mouth. “So we’re breaking up?”
“No.” He frowns. “Not exactly. We’re taking a little breather, okay? Just until I can get my head on straight. But we’re meant to be, you and me.” He brushes strands of hair off my face, like he’s done a thousand times. “I’ll come back to you. I promise.”
I’m so angry and hurt, I can’t even face him anymore, so I fix my eyes on the small gumball machine promise ring he gave me on my sixteenth birthday, my sobs drowning out the rest of his words.
~ ~ ~ ~
April
“Look directly into the camera when you answer the questions,” the woman commands, her cold blue irises piercing behind a pair of trendy horn-rimmed glasses. Between those, her honey-blonde bun, the fitted black business suit and four-inch heels, she could pass for one of those librarian/strippers instead of a corporate recruiter.
I adjust my practical gold-wire-framed round spectacles. “Okay.”
She readies the iPhone sitting in the stand for taping while I fidget on my stool, tucking wayward strands of my ginger hair behind my ear and smoothing the wrinkles from my shirt. I didn’t come dressed for a videotaped interview. I figured this job fair would be like any other; I’d wander by some basic booths, collect a few pamphlets, and talk to representatives who want to be anywhere but a Chicago library on a Saturday.
For the most part, that’s what it is. But the booth for Wolf Hotels is different. It’s three times the size as of the others, with sharply-dressed recruiters and an on-site interviewing station behind a screen, to help speed up the hiring process for those who meet the basic criteria.
And the only reason I made the basic criteria is because I lied on the paper application that I filled out twenty minutes ago. Now I’m petrified of getting caught.
“Full name, please.”
I’ve always hated being on camera. I clear my throat nervously. “Abigail Mitchell. But I go by Abbi,” I’m quick to add. My mama calls me Abigail, and everyone else from my hometown calls me Abigail because of my mama. I’ve never liked it.
The interviewer is stone-faced. She doesn’t care what I go by. “The role that you’re applying for?”
“Outdoor Maintenance and Landscaping?” I think that was the official title on the application form.
“And please describe your experience that will be invaluable to us, Abigail.”
“It’s Abbi.” I force my biggest smile and hope my annoyance doesn’t show on video when they play it back later. “Sure. Well, first off, I love the outdoors. I grew up on a farm and have spent years baling hay, throwing bags of grain, and hauling buckets of water for the animals. So don’t worry, I’m plenty strong.” People don’t believe that I am. My slim five-foot-five stature is deceiving, but one look at my body in shorts and a tank will attest that I’m feminine but honed with muscle from long days on the Mitchell farm.
I’ve already provided all of this information on the handwritten application form, but I guess they want the live version as well. “I’ve run my own landscaping company for five years, operating out of Greenbank, Pennsylvania, maintaining commercial properties with excellence.” I’ve been pulling dandelions and cutting grass around my podunk town every summer since I was fourteen. To call what I do “landscaping” is a farce. But if it gets me this job, far the hell away from my life, I’ll say anything.
“Were any of these properties hotels?”
“Yes.” Never say “no” in an interview. Always find a way to spin it into a yes.
“Please tell me about these hotels.”
Crap. And there it is. I’ve never been a good liar. “It was just one, actually. It’s called the Inn. It’s...an upscale bed-and-breakfast.” Three rooms in an old Victorian house, run by Perry and Wendy Rhodes. I hear one of the rooms is decorated with a cat theme. Cat wallpaper, cat pillows. Cats, everywhere.
By the way the woman’s painted red lips are pressed together, I’m pretty sure my answer is not the one she was looking for. “Okay. Thank you. I also see here that you worked weekends serving customers at a place called the Pearl for several years.”