Red and her Wolf Ch. 01

To grandmother's house we go.

I ride in the passenger's seat of my sister's silver jeep, luggage and boxes piled behind me. A small wooden cottage appears in the distance, surrounded by abundant wildflowers. Dreamy.

"Well, this is it." My sister, Ray, squints out the window, sunset casting her profile in gold. "Can't believe she left you her summer cabin. I'm jealous."

"Well, she did leave you twenty grand and a big-ass boat," I offer. "It's almost a ship, really."

"True." Ray gives me a bright wink. "Guess she loved me after all."

The jeep passes a bus stop, winds up the bumpy gravel driveway and parks. I exit the vehicle, stick my inherited key in the front door lock, and step inside to scan over my new home.

"It's beautiful!" I can't help but clasp my hands together in excitement, hearts bursting out my eyes. I twirl in the half-light.

"Uh..." Ray winces at the layers of dust, the creaking floorboards, the overall crumbling atmosphere of my humble abode. She crosses over peeling kitchen tile to the sink. The tap twists with a rusty squeak. Water trickles out sludge brown. "A bit of a fixer upper."

I shrug the obvious off. Already envisioning myself lounging on a cream-coloured sofa where there is now only a dumpy, stained loveseat, also encased in dust. "Just give me a few weeks and I'll turn this place around."

Ray snorts, tucking her short brown hair behind her ear. "Yes, you who has never lifted a hammer in your life."

"I've used one at least twice." Not well, but I'll try not to hit my thumb this time.

"Right." Ray shoots me a sly grin. "Well, I'm looking forward to witnessing that."

The sun has set. I flick on the nearest light switch and the single dangling bulb blinks ten times before it fully turns on, buzzing loudly. A mosquito hovers and I slap it dead between my hands. "Ew." It drops to the blue and white checkered floor, faded with age. "Good thing I brought citronella."

"I was going to leave you here, but I didn't realize how run down this place is," Ray frowns as she exits the kitchen, attempts to turn on other lights. None spark. "I can drive you to the nearest motel."

I spot a broom in the corner near the antique of a fridge. "Nah, I'll just give everything a good sweep." I squat to open the cupboard doors under the drippy sink and find a small bucket full of folded rags. "Perfect, I can dust. I've brought sheets and blankets. A big jug of water. Protein bars. I'll last the night." I turn to smile at Ray, now leaning against the kitchen island.

Ray sighs. "I dunno, Em. What if mice and rats come out of the woodwork?"

"You're way too overprotective." I rise, head hitting the counter with a dull thud. Forcing a tight smile, I clutch my scalp, eyes watering."I'll be fine."

Ray helps me empty her jeep of my things. Boxes pile in the foyer as I hum happily to myself, my sister offering me skeptical glances all the while.

"Welp." Ray's dark eyes give my ancient ruin another once-over. "Best of luck to you, sis. Call me if you change your mind."

"I will." I hug Ray close. "I love you."

"Love you too, Em."

Ray returns to her vehicle, retreating into the warm summer night. Leaving me standing alone on the rickety front porch, crickets singing in the honeysuckle air. The full moon emerging beacon-bright behind a wispy cloud. I breathe in deeply, the funniest electricity starting in my belly. Knees a bit wobbly, heart thrumming.

Intuition. Trying to tell me something, but what?

The first thing that pops into my head: life is about to get a lot more wild, darling. Buckle the hell up.

*

Dusting doesn't seem promising under the flickering light of a single bulb. Luckily, I had packed candles before arriving. Wicks flare with the stroke of a match. A few glugs of bottled water in a bucket, my Grandmother's rags in hand, and I start my dusting party.

To say the dust is thick is an understatement. I'm soon having to wrap an extra shirt around my nose and mouth to prevent a coughing fit as I sweep. Thankfully, elbow grease pays off: hours later, after one final drag of a wet rag across the fireplace mantle, the ground floor is...well, not sparkling, exactly. But in a far better state than before.

"This will do nicely," I say to no one in particular. A part of me wishes I had a cat or dog with me now, someone to keep me company.

Then loneliness hits me with harsh force. I try to ignore it. Drape my clean sheets over the couch I have just beaten the dust out of, an unexpected cold draft hitting the side of my right arm. "Bit chilly for July." My voice echoes through the empty house.

The lightbulb flickers in tandem with candlelight. A breeze blows with a hissing shudder as moonshine streams through sheer lace curtains. The bedrooms on the upper floor still need to be cleaned so I've settled in the living room. I curl up on the couch cushions, cheesy romance novel in hand, the light of a nearby candle barely enough to read by.

I can't seem to focus on the words in front of me, an edginess building in my body. What was once a feeling of coziness has been replaced by fear.

The fear solidifies when a wolf howl fills the night: a mournful keening.

"No big deal." My fingers tighten around my book, nearly crumpling the pages. "We're close to the woods here. All sorts of wild animals about."

This thought is not comforting whatsoever.

Another howl. This time much nearer. In fact, it sounds like it's right on the property.

Curiosity gets the better of me, stronger than my fear. I grab the nearest candle and walk slowly to the open window, the screen a thin barrier between me and whatever creature is afoot.

I can't see much. The luminous full moon on display doesn't light up the shadows. Nor does it soothe. It's an eerie sight, turning my cottage in the countryside into a place of sinister fantasy. If I squint my eyes a little I can almost see figures in the trees, can imagine a multitude of fanged beasts hovering around the periphery.

Then, about ten feet from my window, a pair of gold eyes blink at me.

A scream catches in my throat, and I heave a step backwards. "What the fuck!"

I slam the candle on the wooden coffee table and hurl myself back to the couch, covers thrown over my head, breath shallow. The bay of the wolf echoes in my ears again, close enough to make my hair bristle.

"What are you even afraid of?" I whisper into the blanket. "It's not like a wolf can get inside."

Can he?

Or maybe it's a she. Either way, it still makes my stomach tight with anxiety.

Do wolf eyes always glow a gold so otherwordly?

The howling ends, the mystery subsides. Some time during the night I eventually blow out the candles and pass out. I wake up to the sun shining, birds singing, as if the horror that occurred last night was just a bad dream. Bones crack as I stretch out with a groan. My legs don't quite fit this couch, my ankles draping over the arm rest.

I lay there in a woozy haze, half-asleep. I decide to turn over and return to dreamland...

Then the chopping starts. A distinct sound of wood splitting open. In a near-deserted area like this, the sound sets my teeth on edge: vividly loud, like the shot of a gun.

The fifth crack of iron hitting wood detonates my eardrums. I jolt upright, annoyed. Turns out I have neighbours that like to start outdoor projects at...I check my phone. Not even six am. Wonderful.

I never thought about neighbours yet. Maybe I should introduce myself? Kindly ask them to save the wood chopping until normal waking hours? Is that too much to ask? Am I too easily irritated?

Probably. I always did have a temper.

Ugh, let's at least take a looksie. It's probably some early-rising older gentleman. One that wears baggy overalls, too much plaid, and a smokes a pipe. Leather-faced and friendly.

I walk out onto the front porch, sun only just risen, the air cool and soft on my skin. The chopping sound is coming from my right, where there's another cabin surrounded by a sprinkle of tall oak trees. I head barefoot through my unworked garden. Through the grass overgrown with wildflowers, my toes careful and light. I peer over the tall bushes and-

Woah. I was definitely wrong about the overalls. And the plaid. Everything.

There before me is the most glorious back I have ever seen. Bare, bronze, and rippling. All man. My stomach kicks at the sheen of sweat that graces his rugged flesh and form. Dark brown hair grazes his shoulders as he moves. Muscle twitches. The axe raises, gleaming as it catches the morning light. Wood splits into two perfect pieces on the dewy lawn next to a dark blue pick-up truck.

Words won't form in my mouth. I'm staring, slack-jawed. Stunned.

The man stiffens, now aware of an audience. His head twists over his shoulder and a grizzled face stares me down. Unshaven, under-slept, and unbearably good-looking. Honey hazel eyes flicker over me, seeming just as annoyed as I was when I woke up today. Dark brows furrow over beautiful features: sculpted, tanned, brooding.

But above all, tired. So tired.

"Hi," I squeak. That was not a welcoming look he just gave me.

"Hi." A barely perceptible mutter before he returns to his handiwork. Reaching for the next log to halve, lining it up. The axe striking down hard and merciless.

"Can I talk to you a for a moment?"

No sound except the axe landing.

I feel like I don't exist. I can't remember the last time a man looked so displeased to see me. For some reason this only spurs me on. I move awkwardly around the bushes that separate our properties. Arrive on the other side to meet him. "I'm uh-your new neighbour."

Silence. He doesn't look at me or speak. Just keeps working.

How incredibly rude.

I try again. "Have you been living here long?" I'm heating up at how obnoxiously he's ignoring me yet also trying not to ogle the two dimples on the lower part of his back, the firm curve of his ass through his blue jeans.

"Long enough," he drawls. A leathery scrape of a voice.

"Well, I'm Emily. Em for short."

More silence.

That does it. I nearly forgot why I came here in the first place: to tell him to not chop wood before six am. I decide to give him an earful. "You know, I was trying to get some sleep. Would you mind not chopping wood at dawn? It's pretty loud." I can hear my voice ring out shrill, wince-worthy. My inner Karen bursting out to nag.

He stops. Leans the axe against the gnarled trunk of an oak tree. Finally, he turns to face me head on, revealing the lean and muscled expanse of his torso. The ugly scars travelling diagonally across chest and abdomen. Long fingers reach into his pocket for a lighter. A cigarette, hand-rolled. He perches it between two sensual lips. "Sure thing, Red," he mumbles out the side of his mouth. The cigarette tip smoulders crimson. He places the lighter back in his jeans, scanning me, curious this time.

"Red?" I feel myself turning exactly that color. It's his eyes. The way they burn. A dizzying intensity there.

He lazily points his cigarette towards my hair, before inhaling more smoke.

"Oh, right." I run a sheepish hand through auburn locks, suddenly worried about how much I can pull off bedhead right now. Am I still in my pyjamas? I glance down at my baggy white shirt and rainbow tie-dye yoga pants. I wonder how visible my bra-less breasts are through this top. "Yeah, it's red."

His eyes glaze slow and deliberate down my body. Crown to manicured toes."You a city girl, Red?" An obvious taunt.

I gulp, questioning my desire for him to pay attention to me. I've gone from invisible to prey. And I get the feeling that he wants me to know that. Wants me to know that I'm not to get comfortable around him.

"I might be." I raise my chin, fold my arms across my breasts. Realize how tall he is as he draws closer, a shadow casting over me. He towers. Smells of cedar and fresh sweat. "How could you tell?"

"Just a general vibe you city folks have," he shrugs. "You're all alone out here?" He glances over the bushes towards my empty dirt driveway, a touch of agitation in his tone.

"Yeah." Oh shit, maybe I shouldn't have said that. I can't think when he's this close, exuding feral animosity towards me. And something else that seems like...concern? "I'm going to be renovating this place. It's my Grandma's."

"Renovating." Amber eyes narrow. Smoke pools out his mouth. "You ever done a day of manual labour in your life?" He glances at my hands, nails glossed with hot pink.

"Yes." Irritation stirs again. "And even if I didn't, what's it to you?"

"Nothing. Just interesting is all." He picks up his axe.

"What's your name?" The question lurches out, suspicious.

"Kade." He inhales a tight drag. "Are we done here?"

"Are you done chopping wood?"

"Are you going back to sleep?" Those amber eyes glint at me.

No. There's no way I could sleep now. I'm mad. I'm mad that this mean jerk that can barely hold a conversation lives next door to me, taunting me with his perfect torso and pretty eyes. His round ass-

God, I'm a pervert. I step out of his shadow. "Yes. Please don't chop anymore wood until..." I pause, thinking of how many hours I'll pretend to be sleeping.

His brow arches, waiting.

"Eight," I finish.

"Alright. Eight it is." He drops his cigarette to grass. Twists the heel of his steel-toed boot on the stub. He looks up through his lashes at me, something wicked about it. "Sweet dreams, Red."

Those parting words tease up my shirt, over my belly, straight to the sensitive peaks of my nipples. I suppress a pleasurable shiver.

Just as I turn back towards my cabin, I swear I see his eyes sparkle liquid gold.