Page 1 of Wolf It Down, Knot Me Up

1

LUCY

Istand in front of Rusty’s Wolf Tavern, craning my neck up to the sign above the door of a glowing red wolf. Except one of its hind legs refuses to light up, so technically, this is a three-legged wolf. And not as intimidating as they were going for by using an apex predator in their logo.

The place sits at the edge of the gravel parking lot at one end of town. It’s an old timber building, aged immensely since I last saw it years ago.

Behind me, my cab drives away, tires crunching over the gravel with an urgency to get out of here. I can’t blame him when there’s not much in this town. I flew across the country, caught a bus, and spent the last hour with the driver, who drove up the mountain and took sharp turns to get here.

And now I’m exhausted.

I push my backpack higher on my shoulders, carrying everything I own as I travel light, which makes life a little depressing. Motorcycles and pickup trucks fill the parking area, meaning it’s going to be full.

At eighteen, I moved out and left the town of Rusty’s Bend behind. I returned to visit my childhood home since then once, and now I’m back. Tourists flock here in summer for outdoor activities, yet there isn’t much on offer. This place has several hardware stores, a bakery, and a bank. Along with enough red pines to tower over the place. They’re dark green and endless, climbing the mountains in every direction until they disappear into the haze.

Yet, I find the location beautiful, and since moving to a city, I missed the peacefulness here.

I pull my red coat tighter around myself, and step forward.

The guide to Grandma’s house should be meeting me in the bar, and I push open the heavy timber door.

I stroll into a mudroom where coats line the iron hooks on the wall. The place smells like wet leather and a thousand cigarettes.

Keeping my jacket on, I push through the inner door into the bar and immediately trip over the doorframe, lurching forward. So much for making a dignified entrance.

I catch myself on the doorjamb. Every head in the place turns, and my cheeks heat up.

Wonderful job, Lucy.

There are even more people than I expected at this early hour. It’s almost eleven in the morning. Yet there are men in work shirts drinking beers, some in forestry shirts, and one bearded man playing darts with his buddy. And I bet they’re all thinking the same thing as they see me with the huge backpack.

She’s not from here.

Which is hilarious, seeing as I was literally raised here. Well, born about twenty minutes down the mountain and just out of town, then raised in a cottage higher up in these exact woods by the world’s most amazing grandmother. But after living in the city and returning, I don’t recognize anyone in this bar.

“Morning,” I say. “Let’s all pretend that didn’t happen.”

The bartender snorts, and someone else laughs, while the rest return to their drinks.

An empty tall table near the wall catches my eye. I claim the stool, shrug my backpack onto another seat, and scan the bar for my guide.

No one appears to be waiting for me.

I unzip my bag, checking on the little white box nestled. The baked goodies survived—Grandma’s peace offering, seeing as I’ve stayed away for too long. Lemon tarts from the bakery near my old apartment in Miami.

The door opens behind me.

I glance over automatically, and my attention catches on the flash of red around the newcomer’s neck. A bandanna, knotted loosely against a checkered shirt. He’s probably in his mid-thirties, with a long, narrow face, hair thinning at the temples, and a wiry build.

Grandma Eve’s instructions drift back to me from our last phone call. He’ll be wearing a red bandanna, love. When you see him, you’ll know.

Well… that must be him.

I have to admit, I was expecting something a little more dramatic. Grandma made it sound like I’d feel some undeniable spark of recognition, some Ah yes, this is my destined woodland guide moment. Instead, he’s no different from every other local in the bar. Jeans, boots, shirt. If it weren’t for the bandanna, I’d never have picked him out of the crowd.

Maybe that’s what she meant.

I catch his eye and give him a wave.