Chapter Three

Joselyn Arthur gasped as she was yanked awake by yet another nightmare. She bolted to sitting and twisted around as if looking for something…or someone.

She was alone, like always. The sun was streaming into her bedroom.

Sweat beaded on her forehead from the stress of the damn dream she’d had every night for the past week. The same dream she’d had with relative frequency the last few months she’d been at U of C. Something about her renewed contact with Alton brought it back to the surface.

She didn’t even know what the dream was about. It always evaporated the moment she woke up. But it left her with an enormous sense of loss, as if someone she knew had died or was missing.

Dragging herself out of bed, she tried to calm her nerves by starting her morning routine. Shower. Dressing. Minimal primping. Coffee. It all happened in that order. It also happened in a rapid frenzy nearly every day because she was always late.

Mornings were not her friend. Never had been. One of many sticking points at the brewery. Some members of her pack would look for any reason to express their discontent about her. Never mind that she always stayed late and then took work home. They ignored those facts.

The truth was Joselyn kept her mind occupied for as many hours of the day as she could until she was ready to drop dead of exhaustion. When she finally did collapse into bed, she often had trouble shutting her mind down enough to fall asleep. It was little wonder she had trouble waking up.

By nine o’clock, she stepped into the front office attached to the brewery and nodded at the receptionist. “Morning, Liddie.”

Liddie’s smile was broad. “Morning, Joselyn.” She didn’t say a word about the hour or the fact that most of the rest of the office staff had been there since seven. Liddie knew Joselyn well. She also knew how late Joselyn stayed in the evenings.

As Joselyn headed down the hallway toward her office, muffled voices caught her attention. She stopped walking as the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. The door to her Uncle Carroll’s office was ajar, and he was in an apparently heated discussion with her Uncle Jaren.

She should have kept moving, but something gave her pause.

“I don’t like it,” Carroll was saying. “Too many people know about the new product. Someone’s going to leak information about it, and then we’ll lose the upper hand.”

Joselyn didn’t move a muscle, hoping no one else stepped into the hall and found her eavesdropping. She knew what her uncles were discussing—the launch of Glacial Lemon and Glacial Orange. A huge company secret everyone hoped would give Glacial Brewing Company the upper hand over their main competition, Alton’s family business, Mountain Peak Brewery.

The Arthur pack was tight. Always had been. Why would her uncles think someone would leak information to the competition?

And more importantly, how was this leak life or death? Sure, it would be nice to be the first to launch a new product and corner the market, but the way her uncles discussed the secret made it sound like it was a matter of national security.

Venom filled their words, making her shudder. Their deep ingrained hatred for the Tarbens made it difficult for Joselyn to swallow or breathe. The constant reminder that she was tiptoeing into forbidden territory even speaking to Alton made her light-headed.

Carroll continued, “Some of the younger generation are not as devoted to the pack. I don’t trust them, especially Bernard’s damn daughter,” he hissed.

Joselyn winced. What the hell? What had she ever done to deserve their wrath? There was no way they knew anything about her relationship with Alton, such as it was.

Jaren spoke next. “You think she’d tell someone?”

“Of course. She’s the one taking all the photographs and making her stupid marketing posters. It would be too easy for her to show them to someone.”

“Seems a bit harsh to accuse her of something she hasn’t done, Carroll.” At least Jaren wasn’t acting like a complete fool.

Carroll laughed sardonically. “I don’t know why we need a marketing department in the first place. We’ve done fine without all this damn advertising for thirty years. Bernard’s damn daughter graduates with her highfalutin degree, and suddenly we can’t live without her sketches.”

Sketches?

Joselyn’s face heated to the point she might explode. Fuck both of them. Sketches my ass.

The orange and lemon malt beverages were still in the early stages of development. It had only been weeks since the first product had been taste-tested. Since that time, she’d been working her ass off to put together a marketing plan that would wow both Silvertip and the surrounding towns.

What Joselyn wanted was to be at the forefront of a product launch that would spread like wildfire to more than just Silvertip or even Alberta. To do that, they needed an amazing marketing plan.

Ignoring her uncles, she marched past Carroll’s office, heading for her own. She would show them what good marketing could do for a product. The challenge was on.

No sooner had she dropped her briefcase on her chair and flipped on her computer than her mother entered the room. “You okay?”

Joselyn lifted her gaze, trying to school her face into something less angry. She wouldn’t tell her mother or her father about the exchange she’d overheard. She was a grown woman and would prove her worth on her own. No sense adding to the problem by tattling to the CEO. Doing so would only piss her father off and send him slamming into his brother’s office to demand respect.

Carroll would take out even more of his mistrust on Joselyn, and the strain among family members would grow incrementally.

Nope. She would prove her worth on her own merit. “I’m fine,” she told her mother.

Rosanne tipped her head to one side, eyeing her daughter with doubt. “Okay, well, team meeting in the conference room in ten.” She turned and left the room without further comment on Joselyn’s bad mood.

Joselyn lowered herself onto her chair, taking deep breaths to rein in her aggravation. She would never become a company leak under any circumstances. She wouldn’t even give anyone reason to suspect her. Easy. She was rarely in the presence of anyone in Silvertip at all. All of her hours were spent at the office or in her parents’ home. Except for an occasional shift to her grizzly form to run free and blow off steam, she was the picture of a perfect team player.

Too bad she had to work so hard to prove her worth.

Was Alton right? Was her uncle’s distrust based on the fact she was female? Or was he simply a crotchety old man who had nothing better to do than grumble and complain?

As if thinking about Alton could conjure him, her phone buzzed with an incoming text. Sure enough, she lifted the cell to see AT across the top, her way of knowing any incoming text or call was from the enemy and keep wandering eyes from knowing.

The slight method of hiding his name was probably futile since Alton’s father and all four of his siblings also had the initials AT. Wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to decipher her stupid code. Then again, no one ever touched her phone. She was the only person with the password, and she never left the cell unattended.

Hope you made it to work okay. Not sure why you hung up on me. I’ll call you tonight.

In her mind, the three sentences were spoken in his gentle, caring tone, and they ended with baby.

She shuddered. There was no way she could take his call later that night. This thing had to end before it started. Just seeing his words was a reminder of why nothing could happen between the two of them.

Two different worlds. Two different packs. Even though neither of them personally cared about the stupid rivalry between their families, Joselyn wasn’t about to risk her pack’s wrath by cavorting with the enemy at this crucial juncture in her brewery’s standing.

The product launch was perfect. No other brewery in the area had a similar product. It would be a huge success, and Joselyn intended to be recognized for her efforts as a valuable team player. One who put her family first.

Nope. She wouldn’t take Alton’s call that night. And she sure as shit couldn’t meet him in the woods at some secluded cabin where his pheromones would fill the room and tempt her to drop her inhibitions and make the biggest mistake of her life.

»»•««

Alton was exhausted when he fell onto his couch that night. He didn’t bother with the lights or turn on the television. He sat in silence, staring at the ceiling, looking for answers.

What was the matter with him? He knew better than to pursue Joselyn. He understood how worried she was about disrupting her pack by cavorting with the enemy, so to speak.

Hell, he knew firsthand. His pack was no different. His family was as divided as hers. Deep-seated anger toward the Arthur pack ran thick in their veins.

He’d known since he was about ten years old that the cute little dark-haired girl running around on the playground was off limits. He’d ignored the pull toward her for years before finally speaking to her in high school. Their initial conversations were stilted, both of them glancing around to make sure no one knew they were talking to each other.

At the University of Calgary, he’d thrown himself into his studies and then gotten his own apartment the second year so he could nurture this forbidden friendship with the gorgeous girl who was finally a woman.

He had no idea what he was getting himself into. It was stupid on his part to be so fixated on a woman he could not have. But she was never far from his mind, and truth be told, she was much stronger than him. It was Joselyn who set the rules. It was Joselyn who insisted he never touch her. It was Joselyn who made all the calls about when and where they met.

He let her because he had no other options. To admit to anyone that she controlled him so thoroughly would force him to hand in his man card. But she was stubborn and dug her heels in about taking things any further.

In his mind, when he’d initially propositioned her at U of C, he’d imagined wearing her down with his charm and wit. Every time he was near her, his feelings grew more intense. He prayed the same was true for Joselyn. But she never wavered.

Any time he pushed her, she retreated for weeks. The few times he mentioned she was his mate, she freaked out. Once she didn’t speak to him for more than a month.

He couldn’t live without whatever she would give him, so he accepted her conditions and kept his lips closed. In exchange, she studied with him, laughed with him, watched TV with him. He took it. He rarely pushed for more.

And he was dying a slow death inside.

It wasn’t as if his situation was any different. He recognized it. His own family was a hot mess too. If he announced he was in a relationship with an Arthur, there was a chance he would lose his job and possibly his home in Silvertip.

But goddammit. He knew in his soul she was his. How long could this go on? And more importantly, what other option did he have? He would not force her to see reason. She would resent him for the rest of their lives if he tried to prove his point by touching her or hauling her into his arms.

He’d give anything to set his lips on hers and taste her essence. His confidence that there would be no denying the connection afterward was so high he’d bet his life on it. But it might be his very life he would have to exchange for the chance to find out. So he waited.

He stared at his phone. Should he text her? He’d said he would.

Not for the first time, he was angry. With her. With the situation. With their respective packs. With the universe.

Fuck it. He needed to stop pining over this woman and move on. Behaving like a lost puppy was making him look like a fool and getting him nowhere. If she wanted to be stubborn, let her.

He didn’t need her. There were thousands of other women in the area who would be perfectly happy to date him. All he needed to do was pick one out, turn his way of thinking around, and choose a mate. The sooner he bound himself to someone, the sooner he would rid himself of this incessant need to have the one woman he would never have.

She’d made herself clear. Plenty of times. He was only friend material. Nothing more. And a secret friend at that.

He was done.

He lifted his phone and launched it across the room. It landed on the armchair with a slight bounce, doing no harm to the device. Fuck. He couldn’t even perfect the simple destruction of property to feed his aggravation.

Enough was enough already.