The Wilde Expedition

6. the suitors

Copyright © 2015. All Rights Reserved.

〮CHAPTER SIX 〮

 Washington was a ways away from Stonecroft county out in Texas. I'd never been to Washington prior to the week of the fourth ball, so I was half expecting the entire place to be rainy and dull like in Twilight. It wasn't entirely gloomy, at least, if we weren't talking about my mood.

Rick sat with me on the plane ride, and, like trips we took by plane, he got anxious and couldn't sleep well, or even drink the beverages provided by the stewardess. He always said he preferred road trips over planes, and that was the case for most of the guys who joined us on our trip to Washington. Mom recruited a lot of the experienced wolves from our pack to escort our journey, and guard the festivities of the week. In addition to the surplus of guards, there were a few members of the council to oversee the "progress" I was making.

On the plane ride, I spent a lot of time flipping through Vincent's binder of the attendee profiles. Every year when I did this, I felt like a spy of some sort, calculating plots on who to go after and who not to. Most of the time, there was a long list of people to avoid. Actually, all the attendees used to be on it, but Alister's voice kept ringing in my head so I propped my legs up on my chair and set to work on possible suitors.

Reading in the plane gave Rick headaches, but he tended to rest his chin on his hand, leaning over his armrest to observe the headshot of the guys who were expected to show up. Sometimes he'd point to one and say, "He looks nice." And I'd say, "Yeah, and so does a monkey's butt."

After our plane landed in the Seattle airport, Rick escorted me into the backseat of a slick black car—one of the kinds that really made me feel like a spy. The others followed behind us in larger black vehicles intended to fit more people, and hold the luggage on our way to the hotel.

All the galas were held in way-out-there resorts, like the type you'd expect to find with a waterpark of some kind. Instead, it consisted of hotel rooms for each of the attendees, suites for the people from my pack, room for the festivities, and space outside for running around without the groundskeepers finding us out.

It was tucked away with acres upon acres of densely wooded forest on the west side of Olympic National Park, with hiking trails for sightseeing about two hours from the Seattle traffic. I kept close to the window of the car so I could observe the trees stretching over our heads, and arching over the asphalt road. All the leaves were gone, and instead replaced with a film of frost and powdery snow. The effect of it almost glittered, and succeeded in making me feel like I'd just drove over the boarder of Winter Wonderland.

"I wish I could've come here earlier. Do you think I could go hiking sometime?" I asked Rick, who was stationed in the passenger's seat reading over a pamphlet of the resort.

"Your mom doesn't want you wandering around the grounds," he reminded me, not even taking his eyes off the paper.

I settled back in my seat with my arms folded, but the scowl on my face didn't prevent me from looking out the window and seeing all that I would miss.

At the resort, we discovered a hefty amount of guests had already arrived, seeing as we'd booked the west wing where it appeared the parking lot was already partially full. As a result, Rick ordered the car be brought around the back, away from the traffic that would take guests from their rooms to the pool area.

Sunglasses applied, as well as a hat Rick stowed away in one of the suitcases, I stepped out of the car and followed him to the door, flanked on either side by men from my pack. I thought the hat was a bizarre idea—it wasn't even a fancy sunhat, it was just a Colorado Rockies baseball cap. I settled on wearing it with the flap back.