Page 19 of A Wolfe in the Woods

I snapped the hood closed and leaned against the front as I waited. Without my phone, I felt the passing of time crawl even more slowly. I swore in that next half hour, the late-afternoon temperature rose by about ten degrees.

The back of my neck felt damp so I dug out a hair tie from my purse, pulling it back into a short ponytail. As I was looping the tie around, I heard the front door of the reception cabin slam and heavy footsteps lumber down the stairs.

Looking across the lot, hands tangled in my hair, I froze when I saw the Hot Grump.

And he was heading straight toward me…

Unfortunately, he was as handsome as I remembered, the kind of handsome that, even in Graymore, might stop me in my tracks on the streets. When he stepped beyond the shade of a tree and a streak of sunlight hit him, I noticed that his dark brown hair had highlights of a deep auburn, similar to mine, and that the blue of his eyes appeared to glow. He was wearing a white tee, considering the heat of the day, stray flecks of sawdust dotting the fabric, and his blue jeans fit himjustright.

If Meg was here, she’d be climbing him like a tree already…and I didn’t know why the thought brought on an odd snap of jealousy right in my gut.

Those blue eyes were unreadable. As he approached, his booted feet striding over unyielding earth, I saw them flick, curiously, over me. Going to my hair, my chest…my bare legs.

Something fierce burned in me, and I felt my face flame. I hurriedly finished the ponytail, lowering my hands so my chest wasn’t jutting out, and straightened off my car’s hood.

“Good afternoon,” I greeted stiffly, feeling like a rock was lodged in my throat. Those blue eyes narrowed on me again. I heard the jingle of car keys in his hand.

“Ready?” he asked, the rumble of his voice deep and low, jerking his chin to gesture behind me. Confused, I looked over my shoulder, seeing the only other car in the lot, the dusty black truck I’d spotted when I arrived.

Another thing occurred to me…he must’ve been in the back room of the reception cabin when I’d come in. He’d heard about my car trouble.

“Oh no, that’s okay,” I said quickly, feeling panic rise. “May’s calling a taxi for me. My ride should be here any minute.”

He gave a low, short huff of amused condescension that set my teeth on edge. The corner of his mouth tilted up into something resembling annoyance. “A taxi, huh? They don’t come up here.” He leveled me a look. “I’m your ride. Let’s go.”

And he didn’t seem happy about it. I wondered if May had somehow coerced him into this, just like she’d blindsided me. I’d justassumedshe’d meant a taxi, dammit.

I gave one last desperate look at my car. “It’s okay, really. I don’t mean to be a bother. I’ll just go into town tomorrow when?—”

As he passed me on the way to his truck, he came close. Close enough that I could smell him, like earthy pine and musk. Delectable enough that I thought they should bottle it, have him on billboards as the model in hisjust-right jeans and white tee, with lumber tossed over his shoulder and power tools?—

“Get in,” he said, the words a soft growl and clipped, allowing for no argument. “We’re losing light.”

Any retort I had died in my throat. I might’ve squeaked in affirmative, but I found myself turning toward his truck, opening the passenger door in a daze.

He slid into the driver’s side, the engine roaring to life before he put the AC on full blast and turned out of the lot. The leather of the seats was hot on the backs of my bare thighs, and I shifted uncomfortably, finding it hard to breathe. Despite the outside being dusty, the interior was surprisingly clean—no clutter, fast-food bags, stray receipts, coins. Nothing.

Yet it was one of the most awkward car rides of my life. I looked out the windshield in disbelief of how I’d gotten myself in this position but, given no other choice, decided to deal with it. Luckily, it was just a short ride into town once we reached the highway, ten minutes max. He drove down the pothole-lined road with ease and experience. I barely felt a jostle.

When we reached the highway, when the silence became too much, I cleared my throat and said, “I really am sorry about yesterday. I honestly didn’t see a sign.”

He said nothing. His right fist merely tightened on the steering wheel. His other arm was perched along the window. I got the impression he was trying to ignore that I was there.

Rude,I thought. I was trying to apologize. It had been an honest mistake. I blew out a long breath, feeling the crispness of the AC begin to cool my hot skin.

“Are you…” I tried again. “Are you the owner of the B&B?”

“Yep,” he replied simply after a long moment of hesitation. Since he was the owner, as I already suspected, I would think he’d try to be a little bit nicer to his guests, then.

“Jonathan…Wolfe, right?” I asked, eyeing a muscle that jumped in his tanned forearm. “I saw the note in the welcome basket.”

His lips pressed, his hand smoothing across the scruff lining his jaw. “That was May.”

“I’m Blanche,” I supplied. “I’m just here for the week. My friend thinks I need a vacation. I live in Graymore, but I used to?—”

“Look,” he cut in, voice firm. I saw the corner of his lip twist as he said, “I’m just your chauffeur.” That last word dripped with sarcasm. “Not interested in anyone’s life story…or even sharing mine. So, how about we enjoy the ride…quietly.”

I froze again. Those words had a similar effect as Erik’s often did. They made me feel small, unimportant, brushed aside like a mere annoyance. I snapped my jaw shut, turning my body so that I was angled toward the window.