Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
My father.
TWENTY-THREE
Phoebe
I jerk away from Weston, my heart skipping several beats as Varrick nears him. Why is he here?
Varrick owns the Mariner’s Club. There’s no reason he should be milling about on enemy territory. Plus, he’s made a point to keep us all in the loop on his comings and goings from Stonehaven. I know he has lunch with my mom on Thursdays. I know which barbershop cuts his hair. I know he hates the smell of Gulp Seafood & Lounge and will walk one street over to avoid it.
He’s been suspiciously open, considering before this summer he’d been as secretive and elusive as Ghostface. Oliver thinks he wants on a team so badly that he’s trying everything to gain our trust.
I’m not so sure.
My suspicions only mount with him showing up here.
Varrick comes into spitting distance of Weston with a steady, confident stride, like he’s made to withstand an inferno. Like he’s the one who starts them. He wears a tailored blue sport coat, casual white tee, and khaki slacks. No strand of his slicked-back dark brown hair tickles his temple or is ruffled out of place.
“Yes, I’m Weston Burke.” Weston’s eyes narrow into pinpoints on him. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” He’s gauging the temperature of the situation.
Varrick hasn’t approached with hostility. There are no fiery footprints left in his wake. He’s nonconfrontational. Friendly. He might as well be outstretching a hand before he takes it out of his pocket. Yet he says nothing in response.
To which Weston adds, “You must be Varrick Wolfe.”
“Must be.” He cranes his neck toward me but keeps his eyes on Weston. “There’s a word we use for someone who puts their unwanted, unsolicited hands on a woman.”
Weston balks. “I didn’t—that was a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding implies I misunderstood what I saw—”
“Varrick—”
“Mr. Wolfe.” He corrects him nonchalantly, like Weston is simply a schoolboy in Varrick’s world. A child. A novice. Someone who needs to be taught a lesson. It’s a casual display of dominance. Especially when he adds, “The next time I catch you touching someone without consent, you will have a nice little visit from Sheriff Latham. How does that sound?”
Ire consumes Weston’s glare, but he remains surprisingly quiet.
Varrick smiles warmly. “And if you had any notions of joining the Mariner’s Club, I’d rethink those plans.”
Weston lets out a sharp, brittle laugh before he turns to me, his gaze half softening in a silent plea. “You will let Jake and Katherine know this was a misunderstanding.” I hear a hint of desperation, but it’s not enough to wash away the past ten minutes. Hell, the past ten months of serving him and his leery, too-prolonged stares.
My smile carries exactly zero warmth. “I will recount the events in great detail.”
Anger flashes over his eyes.
Varrick clears his throat.
Weston intakes a tighter breath before he says to me, “I hope you’ll be honest then, Phoebe.” He ignores Varrick before exiting the rotunda in loud, irate strides.
The silence he leaves in his wake does nothing but ratchet up my pulse. Varrick tilts his head to me, hands still stuffed coolly in his slacks, and I feel as if he’s waiting.
“If you’re looking for a thank-you, you’re going to be standing here all day,” I tell him. “I had that situation handled.” False confidence is better than having no confidence at all, and I’d rather eat dirt than let my dad think we’re friends after this.
He came in and helped me with Weston. It’s not like he performed a resurrection and brought Rocky’s biological family back to life.
He nods, not disagreeing with me. “Sometimes it’s nice to have an assist though. I’ve missed that aspect of working with others.”
I’m no longer shocked he talks so openly. He feels powerful enough to navigate any situation, even one where Weston is lurking down the hallway and eavesdropping.
“Is that why you’re here? Checking in on the team?”
“Something like that. I came to talk to Jake—”
“He’s living with you this summer; I don’t think you need to stop by his place of work to find him.”
“True. But Trent also lives with me, and he tends to get his feathers ruffled if I so much as glance at his brother.”
That checks out, at least.
His gaze drifts back down the hallway where Weston disappeared to. “Your mother had the same trouble with men. They see her and think they can take. It’s why I always wanted her out of that role in the business.”
“That’s nice of you,” I say stiffly. “Caring so much about her. Must be why she left you and spent twenty-plus years not telling you about your own children.”
He sighs heavily, a disappointed frown drawing down his face. “It’s not how I would’ve wanted things to turn out. If I’d known she was pregnant, I would have been in your lives.”
“To puppeteer us.”