Own Me (The Wolf Hotel, #5)

He smiles. “Sure, call it whatever you want.”

A strange mix of excitement and nerves swirls through me. I don’t know any of these guys, but if they’re like Henry, they don’t just order pizza. “What would this involve exactly?”

“Not picnic tables and potluck.”

I laugh. “Hey, there is nothing wrong with a good potluck.” I lift my toe, making his entire body jolt.

He grabs my foot, shifting it away from that sensitive area. “If you’re on a farm in Greenbank with two hundred of your closest church friends, sure. Not with this crew. Hire someone. Get Raj to help you. He used to work in catering, so he knows the right people.”

I can’t contain my grin. Our first dinner party as a couple. “Okay. Yeah … this is a great idea.”

“You know what else is a great idea?” His strong hands slide up the backs of my legs as he pushes my thighs apart. His eyes flare as they take in my bare flesh. “You bringing my favorite meal.”

My head falls back with a moan at the first swipe of his tongue.





CHAPTER 5





Henry parks next to the silver pickup truck he bought me this past summer. It’s gleaming from a fresh wash. No doubt it was covered in dust only hours ago, but according to Daddy, Jed’s been caring for it like it’s his own. It may as well be. Henry bought it for me when I was living on the farm, to replace the old banged-up one with duct tape holding the bumper on.

I step out of the SUV and inhale the fresh, crisp air. The sun is already setting, providing a picturesque backdrop for the double-story farmhouse that’s over a hundred years old, built by my great-great-grandfather. I’ve called it home for my entire life. It’s the place that’s fostered all my childhood memories, including countless ones with Jed.

And for the first time since February, with Henry by my side, it feels good to be back.

Mama always goes the extra mile in fall, filling bushel baskets with vibrant mums and lining the porch steps with pumpkins from our patch. Stacks of small hay bales throughout the front yard create spots for more flowers and pumpkins. She’s added a few new pieces to the porch this year—a colorful doormat and hurricane lanterns as well as bulky blankets on the swing that are begging for someone to curl up under them.

The windows glow with light, and I can make out Aunt May’s silhouette in one.

“Can you spare a hand?” Henry calls out, rummaging through the trunk of the sleek black Lincoln that was waiting for us when we landed at the private airfield in Pittsburgh.

He hands me a fall floral arrangement, bursting with dahlias in rich hues of orange, burgundy, and gold. “Where did this come from?”

“A florist.”

I give him a flat look as he collects several gift bags.

“I gave Miles a list and he arranged for it.” With his arms loaded, Henry hits the key fob and the trunk closes. “Flowers for your mother, cognac for your father”—he holds up a cylindrical box wrapped in black satin paper and sealed with twine—“and wine for everyone.”

My heart warms. That he even thought to ask Miles is something, especially when he’s neck-deep in running an empire. “That was nice of you.” But I already knew Henry was capable of being thoughtful. I cringe, wishing I didn’t have to warn him. “They don’t drink.”

He smirks. “Something tells me they will tonight.”

“I have never seen a bottle of wine at our dining table in my entire life.”

“Fine. More for us, then.” His polished shoes send loose stones scattering as he follows me toward the front porch, slowing to take in the house with a curious stare.

“What’s wrong?” I know our little country hovel is nothing like he’s used to. Is he wondering how he ended up here, marrying into country folk?

“Nothing. It reminds me of dinners at my grandparents. My grandmother used to decorate their house like this. Of course, I never paid attention to it at the time. I was a dumbass kid. But I just realized how nice it was.” A wistful look skitters across his face. “How much I miss it.”

I smile, relieved. “Well, you can look forward to seeing this every year at this time because fall is Mama’s favorite season.” I add more quietly, “Let’s hope her love for it helps her mood after I tell her to butt out of our wedding.”

His eyes flicker to the window, where Aunt May is still spying on us. “I guess it’s time to do this.” He releases a shaky breath.

Wait a minute. It dawns on me. “Are you nervous?” Incredulity fills my voice.

“I don’t get nervous.” But his jaw tenses.

“You are!” If my hands weren’t full, my palm would be slapped over my mouth. “I don’t believe this. The unflappable Henry Wolf is flapped!” By my family, nonetheless.

“I’ll show you flapped.” He adjusts the bags in his arms long enough to free a hand that he slips under my dress. I know what he’s aiming for.

“Stop it!” I skitter away from his touch with a squeal of laughter.

With a secretive smile, he juts his chin toward the house, silently directing me to go, and then trails behind me.

The second porch step creaks noisily under my weight, as it always does, and a wave of nostalgia hits me. I may not live here anymore, but it’ll always be home.

The scent of oregano and roasted tomatoes hits me the moment we push through the front door. I inhale deeply. “Lasagna?” I haven’t had my aunt’s famed dish in too long.

Aunt May rounds the corner wearing an apron. “You and that nose of yours! I can never surprise you. Come here!”

I set the floral arrangement down on the front table just in time to catch her as she pulls me into her in a tight hug. “Congratulations, sweetheart. I’m so happy for you!”

I sink into her slender yet curvy body, wishing for the thousandth time that Mama was more like her younger sister. “Thank you.”

She turns to Henry. “And you. I know you love my niece, but are you sure you want to join this family?”

“Don’t scare him off,” I scoff.

“If he hasn’t been yet, I think you’re safe,” she throws back in a mock whisper.

Henry offers a charming smile in return. “It’s good to see you again, May.”

“Here, let me help you with some of that.” She sweeps the larger gift bag out of his arms, her eyes flittering over his ensemble, which he let me choose—a casual but delicious sable crewneck and tailored jeans—ever so quickly before winking at me. It reminds me that Aunt May is only four years older than Henry and no more immune to his looks than anyone else.

She’s also the only true ally I have in this house when it comes to Mama. “Listen, before we go in there, I need to talk to you about—”

“There she is, my baby girl!” Mama appears, her hands rubbing at a tea towel. “It’s been too long.”