Alison Paige - Little Red and the Wolf

Thoughts of Gray Lupo pulled Maizie in two different directions. Her belly soured. Gawd, she’d always considered herself a pretty good judge of character. How could her instincts and libido be so off?

Maybe Gran meant someone else. Gray had seemed happy when Maizie told him she wouldn’t let anyone get their hands on Granny’s land. If she didn’t know better she’d swear he really cared about Granny.

Ugh . I’m g rasping at straws .

“You’re sure you don’t need the money, Little Red?” Granny sounded suddenly lucid. “I promised the wolf, but he’d understand my granddaughter’s needs come first.”

“I’m sure. The wolf can relax. I won’t allow the land to be sold either.”

“Ah, what a strange twist of fate,” Granny said.

“What’s that?”

“All those years protecting the two of you from each other and here you are. Each protecting the other from the world.”

“Yeah. Twisted alright.” Maizie couldn’t help thinking her life would’ve been a lot easier if the big, bad wolf had stayed in the misty world of bedtime stories where he belonged.

“You have any idea who Mr. Gray Lupo is?” Cherri paused mid-sift to look at Maizie, half the tray of cream danishes speckled in powdered sugar.

Maizie shrugged. She glanced at Cherri then looked back to her apple pie crust, pinching perfect dents around the rim. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Bullshit. You’re telling me you didn’t google him?”

Maizie shrugged, the queen of indifference. Of course she’d googled him. But admitting that meant admitting she had a thing, a heavy-breathing, panty-creaming, forget-her-own-name thing, for the guy trying to con her sweet little Granny. She didn’t want to admit that. Not even to herself.

“Well, I googled him,” Cherri said. “And he is The Shit. I mean it. He’s The Man. The Big Guy. Mr. Monopoly. Boardwalk, Park Place, the man owns the whole damn board.”

“Impressive. I’m still not letting him in to see Granny anymore. I talked to Clare. It’s a done deal.”

“Clare? The toothpick at the front desk? I know kindergarten teachers tougher than her. You really think she can stop a man like Gray Lupo?”

“It’s a private facility. He’s not above the law.”

“Uh, hello?” Cherri pushed at her glasses with the back of her sugarcoated hand. “A guy with that kind of money and power? Yeah. He is.”

“He doesn’t intimidate me.”

“He should. He’s dated some of the most beautiful women in the world-movie stars, models, even a princess. Does that intimidate you?”

“No.” It’s just depressing .

“He was married once.”

“Really?” Now that was news to Maizie.

“She left him. Vanished.”

“It happens.”

“He can buy and sell Donald Trump. The man doesn’t own a pair of shoes, belt or briefcase that wasn’t once an actual living thing. When he eats Chinese food, he does it…in China.”

“I don’t care.”

“He doesn’t wash his underwear. He just buys new ones.”

“Cherri.”

“And they’re tailored.”

“Enough.” She couldn’t keep a straight face much longer.

“Fine. How about this one? He’s also your neighbor.”

“What?” Maizie snapped her gaze to Cherri, pie in one hand, oven door in the other.

“You really didn’t google him, did you? Can’t believe it.” Cherri turned and finished sifting powdered sugar over danishes.

“Okay, okay. I stopped reading after the princess thing. Happy? Now tell me about him being my neighbor.” Maizie shoved the pie in the oven and set the timer, then took the empty stool at Cherri’s prep-table.

“Well he’s not physically your neighbor, unless he lives somewhere on that Wild Game Preserve next to your grandmother’s land.”

“The preserve?”

“Yeah. He owns it.”

Maizie always figured the preserve was some government project. She’d never seen anything remotely exotic…except for the big silver wolf. She certainly hadn’t seen any signs of a house.

“He owns it?”

“Yeah.”

So why was he trying to get Granny to sell her land?

The cowbell over the front door clanked. “Hello?”

Maizie snapped straight. She knew that radio voice. “That’s him.”

“Him, who?” Cherri leaned back, trying to see through the doorway into the showroom.

Maizie scrambled out of her apron, tossing it over the stool. She twisted the hair at her temples around her fingers. Corkscrew curls bounced back, revitalized. She groped the swirl of hair at the crown of her head. Messy bun, still messy .

A smudge of flour on the hem of her tan sleeveless dress caught her notice and she hurried to brush it away before checking her dull reflection in one of the metal pots hanging over the table. Still redheaded. Still freckled. Nothing to be done about it .

Maizie took a breath and headed through the doorway. “Stay here.”

“Okay. But him who?” Cherri said after her.

Maizie came around the display cases. “Mr. Lupo. What can I do for you?”

He looked confidently casual in reddish-brown pants, a black jersey-knit T-shirt that hugged his chest, and a lighter brown plaid jacket, worn fashionably open. He even wore sneakers, leather lace-up track shoes, probably cost an easy hundred bucks.

Maizie thought about the underwear. Tailored? And then she thought about the package inside the underwear. All natural. Her cheeks flushed hot. Thanks a lot, Cherri . She tried to think of something else.

“Ms. Hood, you look…” He exhaled. “Lovely.” He said “lovely” like it was an understatement. Nicely done . She fought her smile while his gaze traveled down her body and back again. Not the slightest bit lecherous or ogling, but very male. A quick shudder raced across her shoulders.

“If this is about my grandmother and Green Acres there’s really nothing to discuss.”

Those pale blue eyes met hers, brows tight. “Sorry?”

“Oh.” Maybe he didn’t know about the no-admittance she’d set at Green Acres. “Why are you here, Mr. Lupo?”

Judging by his tiny flinch, she must’ve sounded ruder than she’d intended. “It’s Gray. Please. Mr. Lupo sounds so… I’d be honored if you called me Gray.”

“Fine. Gray.” She waited for an answer although the way he looked at her, as though he was fighting the urge to reach out and touch her, it really didn’t seem so important why he was there. She was just glad he was.

No . He’s an ass .

He smiled, one of his lopsided almost-smiles that made her think he could read her mind. “Have lunch with me,” he said.

“Lunch?” Didn’t see that one coming .

“Yes.”

She’d thought he’d come to issue warnings, relay the dangers of defying a man of his considerable power and wealth. That , she could’ve handled. But this? “I can’t have lunch with you.”

“Why not? You haven’t eaten already, have you?”

“No.”

“You do eat, don’t you?”

Maizie scoffed. “Yes.” When I remember .

“Good. Then come with me.”

“It’s the middle of the day. I have a shop to run. Y’know, some of us still have to get our hands dirty in order to keep our business going. I can’t just-”

“I got it covered,” Cherri yelled from the back prep-room. “Go. Take the day off. Won’t even miss you here.”

Maizie could tell by the closeness of her voice that Cherri was leaning against the wall next to the doorway, listening. “She’s joking. I’m absolutely essential here. They can’t run the place-”

“Yes I can,” Cherri called. “Done it before. A bunch of times. Go. Have lunch. No reason to be intimidated .”