Little Red and the Wolf

by Alison Paige

  “Lupo,” Cadwick said, looking up from some paperwork as though he’d been caught totally by surprise.

  “Cadwick.”

  The overacting businessman stood and made the effort to come around his desk, hand out, to meet Gray halfway. Their hands rammed together like the couplings on a train, Cadwick adding a manly slap to Gray’s arm. “Do I still have a secretary?”

  Gray gave the compulsory laugh. “We’ll see Monday.”

  “I knew it. I knew it.” Cadwick returned the gentlemanly chuckle.

  He led Gray to the two leather bucket chairs in front of his desk. “What can I do for you, old man?”

  Tension rippled across Gray’s shoulders and right down his spine. Old man. Gray wouldn’t dignify the dig with a response. He smiled, ate the irritation and waited until Cadwick had settled into his ergonomic chair on the opposite side.

  “I’ve got some livestock coming in about eighteen months,” Gray said. “Moose. A mating couple. Thinking of expanding the preserve.”

  Cadwick shook his head, a canary-eating grin stretching his stout face. Elbows on the chair arms he leaned back, hands steepled in front of him. “You and those animals. You got what, three-fifty, four-hundred acres tied up in it already and you’re looking to add more? Money to burn, huh?”

  Gray cleared his throat, allowed his discomfort and growing irritation to show by the hard crease of his brow. He shifted in his seat, leaned forward. “Word is your company’s been buying up a good chunk of land around my place. Land that wasn’t previously for sale.”

  Cadwick’s smile didn’t so much as flicker. “A good businessman makes his own opportunities. Wasn’t that what you kept telling us?”

  Gray sighed. Some things never changed. “I’m glad you found my class so…beneficial, Anthony. However, I don’t recall teaching extortion, intimidation or political backwashing as part of a good business plan.”

  Cadwick opened his hands and shrugged. “I always said I should’ve taught the class.”

  “I taught that business course at the university twenty-four years ago. Yours was my last class. Go apply for the job.”

  “Those that can, do. Those that can’t…”

  “Umm, touché.” Huge tension knots kinked along Gray’s shoulders and stabbed the small of his back. Playing nice guy was going to cost him a fortune in Chinese massages. Airfare was outrageous.

  Gray rolled his head on his shoulders. Loud snaps and crackles helped hide the low growl vibrating his chest.

  Cadwick leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his desk. “Twenty-four years ago and you don’t look a day older. How is that, Lupo? I mean, I’ve kicked your ass in business every which way from Sunday, and I’ve got the gray hairs to prove it. But you…I swear to God, you actually look fuckin’ younger.”

  Gray smiled, a quick flash of teeth. “Clean living.”

  Cadwick snorted, but held Gray’s stare, waiting. After a few pregnant seconds, it was clear there’d be no further explanation. “You’re a card, Lupo, I’ll give you that. Shoulda been a comedian.”

  Hardly. “I’m buying the land edging my property from you, Cadwick. Name your price.”

  Cadwick barked a laugh, his dull brown eyes wide. “You don’t say? Name my price, huh? Damn, you got balls.”

  “The size of coconuts. Now how much?”

  Cadwick raised his hand, his pinky, ring and middle fingers standing at crooked attention. “Three. Count’em. Three major dick-swinging companies I got lined up. You can’t outbid them by yourself. Are you nuts?”

  Cadwick didn’t have a clue how big Bad Wolf Inc was. No one did. Gray hadn’t spent the extra years his werewolf blood had given him chasing rabbits. He’d kept his holdings like the Titanic’s iceberg. What people saw on the surface was impressive, but the real spread of his power lay underneath, buried under oceans of puppet companies and subsidiaries. Some of them were nearly impossible to trace back to the mother company.

  “You’re selling to me and you’ll leave the remaining land owners unaccosted. Clear?”

  Cadwick’s dark brows bunched, sarcastic humor vanishing under the weight of Gray’s orders. “Listen, you old fart, you don’t have the kind of muscle to come in here and try to push me around. I squash people like you and spread’em on toast for breakfast. Got it?”

  The tangy scent of sweat wafted from Cadwick’s suit collar, his heart rate ratcheted up several beats and a ropey purple vein bulged the side of his neck to his temple. The spike of his prey’s emotion worked like Valium on Gray. He had him. The rabbit didn’t know it yet, but he was already dead.

  “Fight or flight,” Gray said, his eyes closing, enjoying the adrenaline-soaked air like sweet brandy. “Fight or flight. Listen to your instincts, Anthony. Run. This isn’t a fight you can win.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? Run from what?” Cadwick burst from his seat, jabbing his finger at Gray across the desk. “You wanna fight? You got it. After I get old lady Hood to sign, I’m goin’ after your place.”

  Gray remained unflinchingly calm, lacing his hands together in his lap. “Ester Hood? She’s a dear friend, but I’m afraid she won’t be selling.”

  “Oh yeah? Well her hot little granddaughter might say otherwise. I’m getting that land, Lupo. In two years’ time there’ll be a hundred and fifty acres of shopping mall and concrete surrounding your shitty little animal sanctuary. And there ain’t a damn thing you can do to stop it.”

  A spark of doubt shot through Gray’s veins. He didn’t like it. Maizie Hood was a loose end, an unknown he couldn’t tolerate. On paper she was a liability but he’d need to meet the woman to know for sure. What were her priorities? Where did her loyalties lie? He couldn’t find out anything sitting in Anthony Cadwick’s high-rise office.

  A skin-crawling silence settled over the room. Gray slid his gaze slowly up to Cadwick. “This is your final decision on the matter?”

  “Yeah. Ya’damn right it is.”

  “Very well. Excuse me.” Gray pushed to his feet and headed for the door.

  “Hey. Is that it? Where ya going?”

  Gray opened the right-side door then paused to look back over his shoulder. “To prepare for battle, of course.”

  “Eww, that’s bad. Here, smell.” Maizie held the half-gallon milk container under Cherri’s nose.

  “No way. Why would I smell it after that face?”

  Maizie shrugged. “Morbid curiosity. C’mon, make sure I’m right.”

  “Fine, but if you wanna test your other senses, trust me, the oven is hot, Asian women really are this beautiful, nails on a chalkboard will make you cringe and my devil’s food cake is the only piece of heaven you’ll find on earth.”

  “Yeah, yeah, funny. Whatever, Whoopi, just take a whiff.”

  Cherri poked a finger against the bridge of her wire-frame glasses then leaned in. “Oh yeah, jeezy-peezy that’s bad. That’s about two days past bad. That’s so far gone it can hardly see bad in the rearview mirror. It’s so bad—”

  “Enough. Got it. Thank you.” Maizie flicked the switch on the garbage disposal and dumped the chunky remains.

  “Just makin’ sure you don’t ask me to check again.” Cherri’s pretty brown eyes narrowed with her smile, her round face seeming more so as she pulled her shoulder-length black hair into a tail then tucked it under a white hairnet.

  She reached around Maizie and twisted open the cold water. “You’re gonna ruin that thing. You’re supposed to have water running when you use the disposal.”

  “That’s an urban myth.”

  “No, the married guy who left his family for his nagging lover is an urban myth. This is just common sense.”

  The cowbell over the front door to Red Hood Bakery stopped Maizie’s retort. Both she and Cherri turned to see who’d entered.

  “Whoof.”

  Maizie elbowed Cherri. “That’s exactly what I said when I first saw him.”

  Granny’s Armani-wearing wolf guided the glass door to
a close behind him, stopping the spring hinge from slamming it shut.

  Pale blue eyes swung around to meet Maizie, connecting with an impact she felt all the way down to her toes. He smiled. Sort of. The very corners of his perfect lips curled ever so slightly, just enough to soften his face but not so much she could be sure of the expression. He looked away, scanning her small showroom.

  The shop wasn’t much, but Maizie was damn proud of the little place. She could still remember the day they’d finished the script on the tall front windows, Sweets & Breads scrawled in white script on one and Red Hood Bakery on the other. She’d hung red-and-white-striped valances on either side and a matching one on the door.

  Display cases made an “L” counter along the side and back wall. They were filled with cakes, cookies, cupcakes, scones, pies, confections and almost everything else Maizie and Cherri made. An enormous wood hutch she’d found at a garage sale took up other side, displaying two three-tier wedding cakes, a huge bread bowl filled with different kinds of bread, a couple of cheesecakes, a few decorative plates of various cookies and a silver-framed picture of her and her parents.

  Mr. Armani Suit paused for a moment staring at the photo. His hand lifted like he might pick it up, but then stopped. He turned away, noticing the small guestbook table below the far front window, with the basket of business cards and flyers stacked on top and went to it. Using the pen next to the open guestbook, he signed.

  “Afternoon,” Cherri said.

  Maizie elbowed her.

  Cherri scowled and rubbed her side. She mouthed, “What?”

  Maizie mouthed back, “I’ll tell you later.”

  To which Cherri crinkled her brow. “Huh?”

  “She said she’ll tell you later.”

  Both women jumped at the masculine voice, snapping their attention to Granny’s wolf.

  “I’m sorry. You are?” Maizie said.

  “Lupo. Gray Lupo.”

  “Get. Out.” Maizie almost snorted. She stopped herself.

  “Pardon?”

  “Oh. No. Sorry. It’s just, Lupo, that’s Italian for wolf, right?”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “I think it is.”

  He frowned. “Interesting.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “My thought exactly.” Gray’s cool blue eyes swung up to meet hers. Their gazes locked and Maizie had to remember to breathe. Her hands went hot and moist in a second, her body warming fast. His gaze dropped to her mouth so she couldn’t help the urge to wet her lips. He tracked the sweep of her tongue, his long lashes flicking up, revealing a flash of masculine hunger that sent a delicious tingle tripping all the way down to her sex.

  Cherri’s elbow poked her side. “Shake your head, your eyes are stuck.”

  Maizie snapped her mouth shut, straightened, drying her hands down her apron. “I’m sorry. Welcome to Red Hood Bakery. How can I help you?”

  Gray smiled, and not one of those maybe I-think-it-could-be-a-smile, but a real cheek-pinching grin. He even laughed a little, his gaze dropping away for a minute, face flushing. Perfect.

  When he looked back to her, his laughing grin had faded to a sexy, easy smile. He tilted his head to the side, just right, so the sun, streaming through the front windows, glinted off his pale eyes and sparked in the silver of his hair.

  “Great shop. Yours?” He had a radio voice, smooth and sexy—the late-night jazz hour by candlelight.

  Then Maizie remembered this DJ was trying to swindle Gran out of her land. “I think you know the answer. Is there something I can get for you?”

  His familiar scowl returned, the same one he’d worn at the nursing home. Her bitchy tone was better than cold water.

  He went all businessman-stiff. “Ms. Hood, I’d like to speak to you about a matter concerning your grandmother.”

  Oh, she should’ve seen this coming. Couldn’t charm the old lady out of her land so let’s try seducing the granddaughter. Okay, so he wasn’t actually seducing her, more like smiling really sexy and looking at her with those pretty eyes and using that perfect mouth and those big hands… Semantics.

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “You shouldn’t be. Ester and I have been friends for years. I care for her and, quite frankly, I’m worried.”

  “Worried about what? That she’ll sell her place to someone else?”

  “Yes. Well, in a manner of speaking. Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

  Maizie followed his nod over her shoulder to Cherri and then farther back to Bob standing in the doorway to the back prep-room. Damn, Bob was wearing his blind-guy glasses again instead of the eye patch. Always freaked out the other drivers, but the missing eye was just bad for business.

  “Bob, where’s your hairnet?” His long, stringy blond hair was a health violation waiting to happen.

  “Van.”

  “How ’bout you go put it on? Cherri, give’im a hand, okay?”

  Cherri glanced at Bob then back to Maizie, mouth drooping. “Seriously?”

  “No. Just make sure it’s a hairnet this time and not an old onion bag.”

  Bob gave his trademark hemp-boy chuckle. “Ya. Gettin’ those flaky onion peels outta my hair was a bitch, man.”

  Cherri put a hand on Bob’s thin shoulder and turned him back toward the prep-room. “Explain to me again how you got that CDL license.”

  Maizie crossed her arms over her belly and looked Mr. Gray Lupo right in his pretty blue eyes. “Private enough for you? You better hurry though. My evening crowd will be rolling in any minute now.”

  Evening crowd at a bakery. That was almost funny. Good thing Maizie was too ticked to laugh.

  “That man’s your delivery driver?”

  “Bob? Yeah. Why?”

  “Your insurance covers him?”

  “Yes. Not that it’s any of your business.”

  Gray shook his head, caught his suit jacket behind his hands on his hips. Very disapproving daddy. “Jeezus, it must cost you a small fortune to keep that half-wit behind the wheel.”

  “Bob’s a three-quarters-wit, thank you. And again, it’s none of your business.”

  “You’re a goddamn walking liability.”

  “Excuse me? Okay, either get to the point or hit the bricks.” She had well-paid employees to insult her. She didn’t need it from this guy.

  “The point? Do you have any idea what your irresponsible financial decisions are doing to your grandmother?”

  “Let me guess,” Maizie said. “She’s worried sick I’ve stretched myself too thin trying to keep this bakery from going bankrupt while I’m paying for her to stay at Green Acres. And if I cared about her at all I’d sell the land to you so my grandmother can stop worrying.”

  “Yes. No. I mean… What?”

  “Well, forget it. I won’t do it.”

  Gray’s brows jumped to his hairline. “You won’t?”

  “I’d rather let the bank take the shop and move back to the cottage with Gran and cut my expenses than sell it to you, or anyone.”

  “Why not?” He sounded genuinely surprised. “Selling could take care of everything, your business, your grandmother’s medical expenses.”

  “Yeah, at the rock-bottom price of my grandmother’s happiness. No, thank you. If you were really Gran’s friend you’d know how much she loves her little cottage in the woods. Yeah, she’d sell it. To help me, but not because she wanted to get rid of it. I won’t do it. Ever. She’s already given up too much for me.”

  “Fascinating.”

  “Not to mention she’d kick my butt for breaking her promise to her make-believe silver wolf.” Maizie rolled her eyes.

  “What’s that?”

  “Nothing. You wouldn’t understand. Old bedtime stories Gran told me when I was a kid. She used them to keep me in line and scare me out of my skin.”

  “Sounds awful.”

  “Yeah, and now the wolf needs me to protect him. Talk about irony.”

  Chapter Three


  Maizie found the spare key right where it had been when she was a kid, in the front window box. The primrose and baby’s breath helped hide the three-inch “I love bingo” key chain, but anyone who took the time to look would find it.

  Her grandmother had hid it from the animals more than people. She’d tell Maizie that anybody desperate enough to break in probably needed whatever they’d find more than she did. The animals though, they’d just make a mess.

  The philosophy wasn’t exactly one Maizie agreed with and she hesitated a minute before leaving the key among the flowers. Seventy some years in the cottage and Gran had never lost anything she valued. She must have known what she was doing.

  She slipped the key in the lock. The door creaked open, already unlocked. The key was one thing, but leaving the door unlocked was just asking for trouble.

  Maizie peeked through the opening. “Hello? Anyone here? It’s just me…Little Red…with a loaded three-fifty-seven magnum in her demure little hand.” It would’ve been a much better threat if she’d actually had a three-fifty-seven magnum.

  She listened. Nothing. “Well then clearly no one’s here, ’cause a thief would answer back.” Maizie rolled her eyes at her stupidity and slipped inside.

  “Gawd, this place never changes.” Maizie scanned the small living room to her right, tossed her backpack on the plump white sofa, almost knocking the lamp off the end table beside her.

  On the far wall, next to the stone fireplace, one side of the French doors to the all-season room was ajar. She could see the corner of the outer room. The warm rays of the evening sun gave the terracotta floor tiles a fiery hue and set off the colors in the brick walls under the windows.

  The living room, despite the buttercup-yellow walls and white airy curtains, was already cast in evening shadows. She reached down and flicked on the lamp next to her.

  Light filtered through the curtained window at the top of the narrow staircase in front of her. The dark wood steps gleamed against white walls. To her left the kitchen windows behind the sink and counters stretched the full length of the room. She leaned forward, noticing the small vase of fresh violets on the sill behind the sink. No one had been here in months. Weird.