“Oh. Uh, your grandmother cares for you a great deal. Talks about you all the time.”

“That right?” Bingo. Right between a maroon tweed jacket and the overstuffed winter coat, she found an old wraparound denim skirt. “Gawd, were these things ever in style?”

“What’s that?” Anthony’s voice sounded louder, like he leaned against the door. Was he listening to her change clothes? Creepy.

“Nothing. So, you were saying Gran talks to you about me?” If he was yackin’ away out there, she knew he wasn’t listening to her being naked in here.

“Yes. Yes, she does. All the time.”

Maizie rolled her eyes again. She needed a top. She’d reached the end of the closet and found nothing in there that would do. She turned and raced across the room to her old dresser.

Top drawer…junk, playing cards, pens, rubber bands. She shoved it closed. Next drawer…books.

“I don’t think there’s anything on the planet she cares about more than you,” Anthony said.

Maizie slammed the book drawer closed then moved to the next…more books, same as the last. She yanked open the bottom drawer.

“Clothes, thank gawd.” Double-D boulder-holder bras, enormous granny-panties, and…eureka! A nice little stack of old T-shirts.

“The only thing she might care about half as much is her big silver wolf.” Anthony laughed, but Maizie’s blood ran cold. She froze.

Until last night the silver wolf had been a figment of an old woman’s imagination, a character in a fairy tale. But he was real now.

He was real and beautiful and… She didn’t want to think about the rest of it. About his strange cameo in her dream. What was that? There’d been a moment, after she’d caught the animal in Granny’s house, that she’d been afraid. Not afraid of being killed, but afraid she couldn’t stop him if his embarrassingly bold licks intensified, morphing into something more, something worse. Maybe that fear, that weird possibility had tainted her dreams.

“Maizie?”

She shook her head, snapping out of the odd train of thought and grabbed the top T-shirt. Taking it to the bed, she dressed.

“What did Gran say about the wolf, exactly?” she asked.

“I’m sure you’ve heard it before. She said she has to protect it and she promised never to sell the land so he always has a place to run. Same as always.”

The T-shirt was tight, but it’d do. She’d throw an apron on when she got to the shop. Maizie dug her brush out of her purse and grabbed her hair ring from the nightstand.

“If you ask me,” Anthony said, “I think the wolf is you. Metaphorically speaking.”

“What? Uh, no.” Okay, given last night and her dream, that was just too twisted.

“Think about it. She made a promise to protect it, to keep the land so it’d always have a place to live. There’s nothing she loves more. Sound familiar? Like the promises she made to care for you?”

“Yeah, but…” He was missing a few vital bits of information, like there really was a big silver wolf running around the forest. Maizie had no intention of setting Anthony Cadwick straight. She found her sandals and plopped down on the bed to strap them on.

“I think it’s a real burden on her, mentally and physically. No matter how you look at it, she’s holding on to this place because of you, and I think it’s costing her.”

“Costing her? Ha.” Maizie snapped her big mouth shut. Her finances were none of this guy’s business.

“Yeah, I know it’s costing you, too. So does Ester.”

Okay, maybe her finances were his business, and apparently anyone else’s who’d had a chat with Gran. “I’m good. The land’s good. The nursing home fees are good. The shop’s good. We’re all good.”

“You sound convincing, but I’m not buying it. And neither is your grandmother. She’s not a stupid woman, Maizie. How do you think she feels knowing you’re struggling and not knowing why? Not knowing how to help?”

She knew exactly how Granny felt. She wanted to protect Maizie, to help her with anything and everything she could. It made her nuts seeing the worry on Maizie’s face, worry Maizie couldn’t hide from Gran, worry Maizie wouldn’t talk about.

Granny had always hoped Maizie would move back to the cottage one day, but if she knew how hard things were money-wise she’d sell in a heartbeat to give her the cash. Of course Granny didn’t know, so she wouldn’t sell. Maybe Anthony was right. Granny was holding on to the land because of her and it was hurting them both.

Maizie grabbed her purse and opened the door. Anthony stumbled into the room. Ha! She’d been right. She knew he’d been leaning against the door. “Sorry.”

He straightened. “My fault.”

“I really have to run, but I’ll think about what you said.”

Anthony gave her his card. “I understand if you want to tough it out and hold on to the place. I mean, Ester loves it here even if she’ll probably never see it again. But if you decide you want to clue her in. Let her know how she can help. Give me a call. I know some people who’d be interested.”

His gaze dropped to her breasts, brown eyes sparking. That cocky, I’m-picturing-you-naked grin pinched one cheek again and he chuckled, low and suggestive.

She shifted her weight to one hip, propped her hand on her side. “Maybe you’d like to take a picture.”

He laughed. “If only. You going to wear that to work?”

Maizie looked down at her shirt. “Oh, perfect.”

She’d grabbed a T-shirt from her youthful rebellious days, her salute to the environment. A cartoon of a fuzzy, flat-tailed beaver and beside it, Save a tree, eat a beaver.

“I knew this day was just gonna get worse.”

“How’s Maizie?” Gray could’ve toppled Ester with a good sneeze. She blinked at him across the table, mouth lax.

“My Little Red? She’s good. Fine. She’s just fine. I thought…”

“I know.” Gray knew what she was thinking. He’d made it clear he wanted to forget the girl even existed. No mention of her-ever. That was the rule. But she wasn’t a little girl anymore and his brain couldn’t seem to let her go. He hadn’t seen her for days, since that night in the woods, but he could still smell the sugary sweetness of her body, taste her tangy skin.

He shrugged. “It’s been a long time.”

Granny nodded, pushing the box of gingerbread cookies closer to his plate. “Too long. It wasn’t her fault-”

“Ester.” It was a warning, but he didn’t mean to growl. He just wasn’t ready to go there. He chewed the last bite of peanut butter sandwich and snatched up two of the cookies.

Gray chuckled, looking the tiny little man over, front and back. “She made these. All these years it was her baking I was eating.”

“Sure was,” Granny said. “Her mama taught her. I think they remind Maizie of better days. She’s been baking them since she was a little girl. Same length of time you’ve been eating them.”

“Strange.”

“Or fate,” Granny said. “You both lost a piece of yourselves that night. Stands to reason you’d each have what the other needs to make up for it.”

Gray tossed the cookies back into the box. “Enough, Ester. They’re cookies.”

“I just meant-”

“I lost my wife.” He lowered his voice. “My mate. You know about me, about us, what we are. We mate for life. She’s gone. Nothing can make up for that.”

“Humph.” Granny snatched one of the gingerbread cookies and bit off its head. A heavy silence settled between them. Gray let his gaze drift over the room.

Green Acres’ social hall was bright and inviting. Soft yellow walls decorated with country crafts and vintage pictures. Round white tables with matching chairs filled the largest part of the room. The smaller areas were busy with comfortable green couches and upholstered chairs.

People visited with relatives, watching television and playing games, even rippling out a tune on the grand piano.