Page 16 of Wolf It Down, Knot Me Up

“I wasn’t heading toward the mountain. I was visiting a creek. There’s a difference, and it’s none of your business.”

“Everything in these woods is my business right now.” He doesn’t elaborate. He simply tilts his head, studying me.

The silence stretches.

Gray eyes lock on mine.

I get the distinct impression that this is how he wins. Most people probably rush to fill the quiet just to escape it.

I don’t.

So I hold his gaze with my chin tipped high, even as my heartbeat pounds so hard I’m certain he can hear it. Somewhere in the middle of our silent standoff, the corner of his mouth lifts. “You’re Lucy,” he says. “Eve’s granddaughter.”

“And you’re the lumberjack.”

“One of them.” He pushes away from the tree, unfolding to his full height until he seems to swallow half the path. “Call me Wolf.”

A laugh slips out.

“Really?” He arches an eyebrow with more mirth than annoyance. “Is there a problem?”

“No. No problem.” I press my lips together, failing miserably to hide the grin. “Just wasn’t expecting someone to actually be called Wolf. It sounds more like the sort of name people whisper about around a campfire.”

“And what do they say?”

I meet his eyes again. “That depends.” I shrug. “Are you the hero…” I let the question hang, my gaze drifting over the breadth of his shoulders before finding his eyes again. “Or the monster everyone’s afraid of?”

His expression doesn’t change. He takes a step closer, boots silent against the pine needles. “Which would disappoint you more?” he asks quietly.

My heart gives one hard, traitorous thud, but my lips betray me with a grin. “I haven’t decided.”

“No?” He studies me for another endless second, his expression unreadable, the corner of his mouth threatening to lift. “So you’d rather I was the villain in your campfire story?”

“I didn’t say that.” I lift my chin another fraction, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“You implied it.”

“I asked a question,” I press on.

“So did I.” His gaze settles on mine, steady enough to make the rest of the forest disappear. “Tell me, Lucy.” His voice drops, quiet enough that I have to focus to catch every word. “What exactly do you imagine happens next?”

My breath catches because my imagination, apparently determined to sabotage me, immediately supplies an answer. Not one, but several. Every single one ends with me making the spectacularly bad decision to follow this man deeper into the woods, despite every instinct telling me not to.

God. What is wrong with me?

A low chuckle rumbles from somewhere deep in his chest.

“What?” I ask, far too quickly.

“I already know.”

Heat crawls up my neck. “No, you don’t.”

“I do.”

“You absolutely don’t,” I insist, holding his gaze.

“I know enough.” He turns without another word and starts walking up the path toward the lodge.