Page 3 of Big Bad Wolf

The man in the doorway was staring at her, his eyes an eerie silver flash in the semi-darkness. He was tall and broad, with dark hair down to his shoulders. His five o’clock shadow was more like ten o’clock, thick and dark. It was his eyes, though, that were freaking her out the most. There was something off about them, something … predatorial. If Ruby had to guess her time and place of death, it would be here, now, at the hands of this man who was most likely some kind of ax murderer.

This was what she got for wishing life around here was more exciting.

Death by psycho killer.

Why hadn’t she locked the door?

Because she’d never needed to before.

He cleared his throat again, but his voice still came out as a raspy rumble, like he didn’t use it very often. “I was looking for Macy.”

“She left for the night.” Ruby let her fingers brush the hunting rifle Macy kept under the bar. Would she have the guts to use it? Probably not.

The man’s face fell as he fidgeted awkwardly from foot to foot like he didn’t know what to do now. Ruby got the distinct feeling that he didn’t get out much. Mostly because she’d never seen him in town before and because he was still looking at her like she held the answers to the universe.

Which she definitely did not.

“Do you want to leave a message for her?”

He thought for a moment before nodding. “Yes.”

Ruby waited.

His brow furrowed as he formulated his words. Ruby nearly laughed. Probably not the best idea when you’re possibly about to be murdered.

“Tell her I came by about the tables.”

Cryptic.

“What about the tables?”

He gave his head a little shake like he was trying to work up to having a full conversation with her, like he hadn’t expected to have to do this much talking. Maybe that’s why he came in after last call.

“Macy hired me to make new tables. I’m a woodworker.”

“Oh. Cool. I’ll tell her.”

He blew out a relieved breath. Mission accomplished. He’d delivered his message. Again, Ruby had the ill-advised urge to giggle.

“Do you need to take measurements or anything? You could do it now while we’re empty. I have to finish cleaning up anyway.”

This would be the part in the true crime doc about her murder where every expert would be baffled about why she’d asked the killer to stay.

Her best guess was that her parents’ death had knocked the ability to feel real fear about anything out of her. What did she have to be scared of when the worst possible thing had already happened? It made her immune. Death was inevitable and it had visited Ruby early in life. Not that she particularly wanted to die, but she’d made her peace with it much earlier than most people.

So maybe that was why she invited the scary man in. Or maybe, upon further inspection, he wasn’t that scary.

He seemed kinda nervous, actually.

“Okay,” he nodded. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Ruby said, watching him as he came further into the bar. She’d turned off most of the lights so the space was dim, the floor and the tabletops were sticky, and there was a giant moose head staring at them from the wall, but the man didn’t seem to notice any of that. He was still looking at her.

Heat prickled up the back of Ruby’s neck.

“What’s your name?” she asked, attempting to break the tension.

“Rafe.” It was more like a sound than a name. The rumble of it, deep and throaty from his mouth, did nothing to break the tension.