Veronica minded very much. But why? She had no claim to him.
“It’s complicated, but we’re not together, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“I see.” Susan pursed her lips. “It’s not every day that I get an Ian Somerhalder look-alike walking around helping me carry things.”
“Ian who?” Veronica couldn’t take her eyes off Logan.
“You know, the hot guy from The Vampire Diaries? The one with the dark, messy hair and the light eyes?”
Veronica bit her lip. “Oh. Yeah, I guess.”
“I don’t know how I’m going to focus the rest of the night,” Susan said, fanning herself with dramatic flair. “I still have a ton of work to do around the hotel, and I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from him. How do you do it? How do you keep your hands off and stay focused?”
Logan turned around, put his hands in his pockets, and smiled, a tiny dimple pricking his cheek. Had he heard what Susan said? He couldn’t have. He was too far away. Why, then, was he looking at Veronica as if he was waiting to hear her answer?
“It’s not difficult to focus on work,” Veronica said. “Not when he’s made it perfectly clear that I’m not his type.”
…
Not his type? Not his type?
Logan’s heightened hearing had allowed him to eavesdrop on the conversation. Now he was certain the woman had lost her mind. He could barely glance at her without the blood in his veins melting to liquid lust. Veronica had an innocent kind of beauty: porcelain smooth skin, soft brown eyes, dark hair that fell in subtle waves past her shoulders, and rosy cheeks. She was a voluptuous version of Snow White, plucked straight from his fantasies. Looks aside, Veronica was his polar opposite. It was clear she longed for a serious, stable relationship, and that’s the last thing Logan wanted. She was a night owl, and he rose with the sun. She always noticed the good in people and he…well, years of bad experiences had taught him better.
Veronica was intriguing. Being close without reaching out and touching her the last week nearly broke him.
The reception had been flowing for hours. It was nearly seven o’clock and the first dance had been waltzed, dinner had been served, and the cake had been cut. There was no sign of the stalker, though every time someone snapped a picture of the happy couple, Logan wanted to rip the camera out of their hands and stomp it into the floor, just in case there were pictures of Veronica on the disk. The bride and groom looked blissfully happy, but Logan wasn’t fooled.
“Poor bastard,” Logan said as the dance floor filled. “Doesn’t know what he’s walking into.”
Veronica appeared in Logan’s line of vision. She was standing against the bar, swishing around a yellow blended drink in a crystal martini glass. A George Clooney look-alike stood next to her, drinking something that looked like sparkling water. He wore a pin-striped suit with a blue tie and spit-shiny shoes. They were talking. Laughing.
Logan had left her alone for two whole seconds and the wolves had descended.
Only this guy wasn’t throwing off the scent of a wolf. Good thing, otherwise Logan would’ve marked him as stalker suspect number one and escorted his ass out back.
Not liking their interaction, Logan walked toward the bar and pressed the button on his earpiece. “Everything under control out there, Carter?”
“You could say that,” Carter said from his position behind the hotel. “I just escorted a ninety-year-old woman to her car. She pinched my ass and dropped a quarter into my back pocket as a tip.”
Logan couldn’t force out a laugh. Not when Veronica’s eyes lit up and she smacked the stranger playfully in the shoulder.
“Highlight of the night, huh?” Logan started a slow trek to her position. He kept his voice low. “Just remember what I told you. If you even sense a wolf in the vicinity, alert me immediately.”
“Will do.”
Logan turned off his earpiece and stood at Veronica’s side, so closely that he brushed against her shoulder. “I’m Logan Black,” he said, extending his hand.
The guy squinted, and then shook Logan’s hand. “Patrick Bennett.”
“We’re old friends,” Veronica said, laughing. “I’ve known him since I was six.”
Patrick must’ve said something funny just before Logan walked up. Oh, everyone loves a clown.
“He’s a pastor now,” she continued. “Though it’s still so hard for me to imagine: Pastor Bennett.” She shook her head. “To me you’ll always be Patrick.”
“A pastor, huh?” Logan rested his arm on the back of Veronica’s barstool. “Do they make you take a vow of celibacy when you wear the cloth?”
“Celibacy is a personal choice.” Patrick glared. “Veronica, I have to thank you for contacting me,” Patrick said, scanning the dance floor. “I think this wedding makes ten I’ve ministered for Veronica Vale Weddings.”
“Eleven, if you count Leah’s.” She took a drink. “You’re already contracted for that one, and you can’t back out now.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, placing a hand over his heart. “I love weddings. I’m honored to be a part of a couple’s special day.”
“That’s refreshing to hear.” Veronica looked up at Logan in amusement. “Don’t you think?”
“Honored,” Logan parroted, dramatically placing his hand over his chest to match the pastor’s. “Absolutely.”
Logan kept his gaze on the reverend, but brushed his hand up and down Veronica’s back. Her shoulders rolled beneath his touch, and she shot him a glare he didn’t understand. And although Logan wasn’t picking up scents that would set him off—other than the odd scent of something peppery, which wasn’t a cause for concern so much as it was disgustingly strong—he didn’t like Pastor Bennett. The guy was too damn…happy.
“I should probably take off.” Patrick folded his arms over his chest. “Will you be at the rehearsal Friday night?”
“Yes,” Logan and Veronica answered together, and she laughed.
Patrick stared, his gaze shifting from one to the other. “Wonderful. See you then.”
Logan watched the pastor leave the ballroom. “That guy’s a twit.”
“He’s not a twit.” Veronica turned back to the bar and nursed her drink. “He simply doesn’t like you. Can’t really fault him for that.”
“Yeah, well, the feeling’s mutual.” Logan leaned over the bar and signaled the bartender. “You two close?”
“No. Not anymore, at least. We went to the same schools, and hung out off and on until our senior year. He moved and we lost touch after that, but when he came back to Seattle a few years later, he gave me a call. By then we’d grown apart and couldn’t find the time to catch up again.” She shrugged. “Guess that happens sometimes to childhood friends.”
“It does.” To humans. Growing up, Logan had wolf-pack friends and they were still thick as thieves, willing to do anything for one another. “How’d he end up working for your company?”
“When I started contracting pastors to officiate weddings, Leah remembered that he’d started walking the holy road. I asked him if he was interested, and he said yes.”
“I suppose you see a lot of him. Every weekend kind of thing?”
“That’s about right.” She took another, longer drink. “Is there a problem?”
“No, no problem. Guinness,” Logan hollered to the bartender when he’d walked within earshot. That should help soothe his stomach pains. He turned to Veronica. “Another lemon drop?”
She kept her gaze on the dancing crowd in the center of the ballroom. “What are you trying to do, make me forget about what happened earlier? If that’s your play, I’m already working on it.”