Four Days (Seven Series #4)

“No offense, Mr. Church, but your words belittled my Packmaster in front of his family. You were undermining his authority.”

 

 

He pointed his finger and a smile touched his lips. “And yet you were the only one who ordered his plate.”

 

“His brothers weren’t raised in a pack. I, however, understand the nuances of the hierarchy. Ohhh…”

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

I took my gum out of my mouth and held it between my fingers. “Are we there?” I asked in a breathy voice, reclining my head back. “I’m feeling unwell. I really don’t want to get sick in your car.”

 

Lorenzo pinched the gum from my fingers and flicked it out his window. “We’re almost there. If you get sick in my car, I’ll have it cleaned. Nothing is irreplaceable.”

 

I wondered if that’s how he felt about women, or even his own pack members.

 

My stomach made a terrible sound that was so loud that it trumped the engine. My cheeks heated and I turned to look out the window. If my stomach didn’t kill me, embarrassment surely would.

 

“Your body makes more noise than your mouth. I don’t think I’ve met a woman quite like you, Miss… I’m afraid we skipped introductions.”

 

“Kizer. Ivy Kizer. And you’re Mr. Church.”

 

“Call me Enzo.”

 

I turned to look at him and his eyes fell to my lips. “It’s not respectful to address a Packmaster so informally.”

 

He pinched his chin thoughtfully. “Only business associates call me Church.”

 

“Then I’ll call you Lorenzo.”

 

Lorenzo reached over and gently tugged the end of my braid. “Is something wrong with Enzo?”

 

“Do you want to be compared to a flashy piece of machinery that’s fast, loud, and unattainable?”

 

He put his hands back on the wheel and throttled the engine. “I can be compared to anything with stamina.”

 

“Mechanical things require too much attention to keep going on their own. How much attention do you require?”

 

“Sweet Ivy, what a wicked tongue you have.”

 

“Perhaps I should call you Thunder Wolf since you rumble like thunder before a storm.” I pressed my lips together in frustration.

 

With gentle ease, he tenderly brushed his knuckles across my cheek. “You are a wild little wolf. Take care not to bed with any of Austin’s brothers.”

 

I shoved his hand away.

 

“If you think I’m insulting you, then you’re wrong. The purity of your blood would be tainted by mating a wolf of their low caliber. You are a little snowflake drifting toward the muddy streets beneath the hooves of horses.”

 

“I love horses,” I said, steering the subject away from the insults to my pack. “I used to ride them as a little girl. I always wanted one of my own.”

 

“And your father—a prominent Packmaster—would not give you one?”

 

Lorenzo’s car rolled up the gravel driveway to the Weston property. A couple of the men were standing on the porch up ahead, waiting for me.

 

“After years of begging, my father finally gave in and gifted me a horse. She was a beautiful blue roan with the thickest black mane. I used to ride bareback across the property, holding on to her mane as she raced through the open field,” I said wistfully, gazing at the meadow in front of the Weston house. “That mare could race against the wind.”

 

“Did you braid your hair back then?”

 

I blinked, taken aback by his question. “No. That was before I began tying it up.”

 

“Hmm,” he murmured, putting the car in park. “I would like to see it down the next time we meet.”

 

“I don’t believe our paths will cross again.”

 

A smile stretched across his face. “They have crossed three times. If a fourth comes around, I might call it fate.”

 

“I think the fates simply have a sense of humor. Take care not to go out tonight. It’s a full moon.”

 

“What happened to the horse? Did it run away, or did Cole not allow you to bring it with you?”

 

I unbuckled my seat belt and opened the door. “No. My father shot her. Thank you, Lorenzo, for bringing me home safely. I’m grateful, even if I had to endure your insulting remarks.”

 

“Likewise.” He tipped his head and then fixed his gaze on the house. “I hope we meet again, Ivy. Don’t get tangled up in any trouble.”

 

***

 

 

 

I spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, recovering from my ailment. Perhaps beef was not meant to be drowned in gravy. By early evening, I felt much better and changed into a white cotton dress. It had a long slit in the front that stopped above my knees, and I often wore it with a favorite pair of moccasin boots in the fall.

 

The house seemed calm, and I quietly made my way into the hall, tugging at the sleeves of my dress as I descended the stairs.

 

“What happened? It’s freezing in here,” I asked Lexi from the second landing on the stairs.

 

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