Page 20 of A Wulver for the Week

“Morning, sleepy head,” Minnie’s voice is soft, and her hand taps my shoulder.

“Hm? Oh, morning.” I sit up too fast, and the room spins. I pull the comforter up over my lap. “Oh. You’re already dressed for the beach day, I see.” I manage a smile. “Been up long?”

“Hm? Oh, I fell asleep like this. I think I’ll just... hop in the shower and throw on my beach cover-up. Maybe I’d better put on my other suit. A two-piece on this body—”

“Is fucking perfect,” I growl as I watch her stroll away, thick but proportionate hips begging me to grab them and bend her over the nearest surface.

“Craig!”

“I’m an honest man,” I chuckle. Just don’t ask me if I was asleep or awake when I was about to split your sweet pussy in two. “Now, hurry up. I can already hear a crowd on the beach.”

I CHANGE INTO MY DARKturquoise one-piece, and Craig changes into navy trunks. “You might want to leave your pinky ring in the room,” I advise, unfastening my small gold hoops.

Craig hesitates. “Aye, probably. But it’s a bit stuck. It’d take more than a good swim or a sandcastle competition to pry it free.”

“Sandcastle competition?” I ask.

Craig points out the window.

It looks like a carnival on the beach side of the resort. A huge white banner proclaiming Barry and Gerri Get Married! is strung between two palms. Photographers are taking pictures of every couple in both families under a heart-shaped bower. The younger members of the family are having a sandcastle competition next to corn hole and giant checkers. My uncles and Barry’s male relatives are already in deck chairs buried half in the water with fishing poles at their sides. If I crane my neck, I can see the pool with its floating bar is already doing a brisk business at 10 AM.

“You go and do your fishing this morning,” I encourage. “I’ll help with whatever it is bridesmaids should help with.”

“Are you sure? Your family won’t think we’re estranged or something?”

“Not at all. I hope.”

“I’ll hover adoringly,” Craig offers, his smile wide.

So wide. Too wide.

Tipsy. Tired. Sun in my eyes, maybe. “What a big smile you have,” I murmur, mostly to myself.

To my surprise, Craig backs away, looking flustered. “Big? Too big?”

“Just... different. Maybe I’m imagining things.”

“What kind of things? About last night? Because I—”

“No, no. Nothing about you. Well. Kind of about you. Last night.” I wrap my hair in a matching gauzy bandana, keeping mycurls pulled back from my forehead. I can’t help noticing how Craig’s eyes watch my every move, how he studies my curves as I deliberately lean into them, one hip thrust out, chest pushed forward as I give an exaggerated stretch when I’m done.

“You can tell me.” His voice is soft. Low.

Almost a growl. A soft growl, like from a sleepy animal shifting position and cautioning you that you’re getting too near. The growl. The golden eyes. The wide smile.

Too wide.

Little Red never wanted to climb in that bed with the wolf, did she?

Maybe she did. Maybe she wanted a little nip of something big and bad before she settled for basic and boring, marching along the right path.

“Did I do something? Minerva, you have to tell me if I did. I don’t know what it is, but by God, I didn’t mean it.” Craig grabs my shoulder suddenly, his reflexes so fast that they outpace mine—me, a veteran nurse who is used to dodging psychotic patients and understands the need for speed.

“You were a wolf in my dream,” I gasp, startled by his hard grip and the way my body responds to it.

His hand drops and his mouth opens. “A wolf?”

“Like a wolfman. Not an animal wolf,” I clarify, wishing he’d grab me again.

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