“Bob’s a three-quarters-wit, thank you. And again, it’s none of your business.”

“You’re a goddamn walking liability.”

“Excuse me? Okay, either get to the point or hit the bricks.” She had well-paid employees to insult her. She didn’t need it from this guy.

“The point? Do you have any idea what your irresponsible financial decisions are doing to your grandmother?”

“Let me guess,” Maizie said. “She’s worried sick I’ve stretched myself too thin trying to keep this bakery from going bankrupt while I’m paying for her to stay at Green Acres. And if I cared about her at all I’d sell the land to you so my grandmother can stop worrying.”

“Yes. No. I mean… What?”

“Well, forget it. I won’t do it.”

Gray’s brows jumped to his hairline. “You won’t?”

“I’d rather let the bank take the shop and move back to the cottage with Gran and cut my expenses than sell it to you, or anyone.”

“Why not?” He sounded genuinely surprised. “Selling could take care of everything, your business, your grandmother’s medical expenses.”

“Yeah, at the rock-bottom price of my grandmother’s happiness. No, thank you. If you were really Gran’s friend you’d know how much she loves her little cottage in the woods. Yeah, she’d sell it. To help me, but not because she wanted to get rid of it. I won’t do it. Ever. She’s already given up too much for me.”

“Fascinating.”

“Not to mention she’d kick my butt for breaking her promise to her make-believe silver wolf.” Maizie rolled her eyes.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing. You wouldn’t understand. Old bedtime stories Gran told me when I was a kid. She used them to keep me in line and scare me out of my skin.”

“Sounds awful.”

“Yeah, and now the wolf needs me to protect him. Talk about irony.”

Chapter Three

Maizie found the spare key right where it had been when she was a kid, in the front window box. The primrose and baby’s breath helped hide the three-inch “I love bingo” key chain, but anyone who took the time to look would find it.

Her grandmother had hid it from the animals more than people. She’d tell Maizie that anybody desperate enough to break in probably needed whatever they’d find more than she did. The animals though, they’d just make a mess.

The philosophy wasn’t exactly one Maizie agreed with and she hesitated a minute before leaving the key among the flowers. Seventy some years in the cottage and Gran had never lost anything she valued. She must have known what she was doing.

She slipped the key in the lock. The door creaked open, already unlocked. The key was one thing, but leaving the door unlocked was just asking for trouble.

Maizie peeked through the opening. “Hello? Anyone here? It’s just me…Little Red…with a loaded three-fifty-seven magnum in her demure little hand.” It would’ve been a much better threat if she’d actually had a three-fifty-seven magnum.

She listened. Nothing. “Well then clearly no one’s here, ’cause a thief would answer back.” Maizie rolled her eyes at her stupidity and slipped inside.

“Gawd, this place never changes.” Maizie scanned the small living room to her right, tossed her backpack on the plump white sofa, almost knocking the lamp off the end table beside her.

On the far wall, next to the stone fireplace, one side of the French doors to the all-season room was ajar. She could see the corner of the outer room. The warm rays of the evening sun gave the terracotta floor tiles a fiery hue and set off the colors in the brick walls under the windows.

The living room, despite the buttercup-yellow walls and white airy curtains, was already cast in evening shadows. She reached down and flicked on the lamp next to her.

Light filtered through the curtained window at the top of the narrow staircase in front of her. The dark wood steps gleamed against white walls. To her left the kitchen windows behind the sink and counters stretched the full length of the room. She leaned forward, noticing the small vase of fresh violets on the sill behind the sink. No one had been here in months. Weird.

The kitchen was the size of a shoebox, a straight narrow room with the sink, an old-style gas stove and oven on one side and a shallow pantry next to the refrigerator on the other. Staring into it brought back warm childhood memories. It’d been more than big enough for her and Gran.

Maizie turned from the kitchen and the memories, and crossed the living room to the open door of the all-season room. Before she reached the fireplace, a familiar scent tickled her nose. Smelled like…like men’s cologne. An icy chill shook across her shoulders, her heart picked up pace and her muscles tensed.

The aroma was fading, but she recognized it. She knew who wore that cologne. Who was it? She tried to click through the faces of possibilities in her mind, but her brain was too freaked on the fact that someone had been in her home. They might still be there.

Something moved in the all-season room, a scuffling noise against the tile floor, and Maizie’s heart was in her throat. She froze, her mind flashing all sorts of horrific images of what could’ve made the sound.

Every slasher movie she’d ever seen flickered through her head in high-definition. Images of aliens eating their way out of people’s stomachs, leather-faced men wielding chainsaws, hockey masks glowing in the dark, her twisted imagination kept her rooted to the spot.

Minutes ticked by with only the chirps of birds and the rustle of wind through the trees to listen to. Sanity began to seep back into her petrified brain. Clearly someone had been there and left the flowers. Nothing looked out of place, so they hadn’t robbed her. If Gran did have someone checking on the cottage, maybe they’d left the back door open like they’d done to the front and some woodland critters had decided to check out the new digs.

“Idiot. It’s just a raccoon or a mouse or something.” She kept her voice to a whisper though, in case it was a big scary guy with a hockey mask and chainsaw.

The cushy carpeting made her stealthy advance toward the French doors all the more silent. She grabbed the fire poker from the cast-iron set by the fireplace and slowly opened the door far enough that she’d be able to slip through.

One, two…three. Maizie jumped over the threshold, turning to land facing the far wall to the left, feet spread wide, knees bent, poker double fisted and cocked over her shoulder like a baseball bat.

“Ah-ha!” Oh crap. Not a mouse. “Nice doggy.”

A flash of silvery fur and a low growl caught Maizie’s attention. Her gaze zeroed in on the large wolf just as he flinched, crouching, ready to bolt. The two of them froze, taking the other’s measure.

The thing was huge, its big ears twitching, listening to more than her words. Cool blue eyes watched her as though waiting for the right moment to attack or run. A rumbling growl filled the space between them, though its face remained deceptively calm and curious. Its head low, eyes peering up beneath the shelf of its furry brow, it watched Maizie tentatively.

“Shoo, go away,” she said, though she was still whispering. No sense upsetting the great big huge enormous wolf.

It tilted its head, ears pivoting forward, and straightened. Whatever fear it’d felt a second before seemed to vanish, bold curiosity taking its place. The wolf sniffed the air, its shiny black nose twitching.

“Go on. Out the door.” Maizie wiggled the poker at the animal, edged forward, hoping it would back out the open screen door behind it.

A hard snort and shake of its head seemed a firm answer before the wolf moved toward her. Maizie backed up as many steps, keeping the distance equal. At this rate, the wolf would be shooing her out of the house instead of the other way around.