Page 2 of Red

The cafe was nestled in the heart of downtown, near the university. Most of the patrons were students or people who worked in the nearby shops. He didn’t fit there. Though with his bulk and those rugged features, she wondered if he would fit anywhere that didn’t involve tearing down trees.

He’d make a good lumberjack.

“That will be five fifty-three.”

“What? Oh, right.” Melinda snapped out of her head and handed over her credit card, sensing his glare still focused on her. After she got the card back and slid it in her wallet, she glanced up. His stare pinned her. She cast him another smile and moved around him to wait for her drink.

“Erik,” the barista called from behind the counter, his arm outstretched with drink in hand.

The rude lumberjack stepped forward and took the small cup. Melinda’s gaze flicked between the barista and Erik.

As he stepped away from the counter, she caught a glimpse of a silver medallion hanging around his neck. He didn’t wear a tie, and the top three buttons of his shirt were undone, exposing the piece. A wolf. A cold shiver ran down her back. She’d seen the medallion before. His shirt shifted, covering it before she could get a closer look to jog her memory. Where had she seen it?

“Excuse me,” he muttered, walking around her. He brushed up against her as he made his way through the small crowd.

He paused at the door, glancing at his watch. Such strong hands.

“Melinda.” The barista drew her attention from him.

“Melinda, isn’t that you, hon?” The woman from the line was beside her, nudging her again.

“What? Oh, yeah. Thanks.” Melinda took the drink and checked the door again. He was gone.

She definitely needed to take a break fromallmen, not only the dark broody sort who made her heart leap into her throat. Just looking at him made her all weak in the knees, and that wouldn’t get her very far in her new endeavor.

With college in the rear view, she had an uncharted road ahead of her, and she was going to make the most of it.

She zipped her coat clear up to her chin when she stepped back out into the blustering wind. Only the promise of one of Grams’ home-cooked meals could have driven Melinda out in the cold night.

Nothing compared to Grams’ home-cooking. The microwave mac ‘n cheese dinners she’d been eating weren’t exactly the comfort foods of her youth.

Melinda’s coffee sat nestled in the cup holder of her sedan while she drove up the winding road to her grandparents’ subdivision. She owned an old house in the middle of a cul-de-sac, but it had always felt like home.

The soft-yellow glow of Grams’ porch light acted as a signal, calling Melinda home. She’d been living in her own apartment for the past two years, but it never felt truly like home. Nowhere felt as safe and warm as Grams’ house.

Melinda parked in the driveway. She grabbed her coffee and purse and climbed out of the car.

Two identical black sedans with dark-tinted windows were parked in front, sending an eerie shiver over her neck. Obviously, she’d gotten deeper into the first draft of her horror novel than she’d thought.

An easy night with her grandmother would settle her comfortably into reality. Monsters weren’t real.

Melinda slipped her key into the lock only to find it wasn’t needed. She opened the door and stepped inside. Grams must have heard her pull in and unlocked the door for her. Although the neighborhood was safe, Grams had been living on her own since Melinda went off to college in the city. She didn’t leave her doors unlocked at night.

“Grams?” she called when her grandmother wasn’t in the front room. Melinda dropped her purse on the table in the foyer and headed to the kitchen. She couldn’t smell Grams’ usual chicken pot pie baking; maybe she wanted to order in.

“Grams? I’m here.” Melinda took a sip of her coffee, making a face at the chilled beverage. She left it behind with her purse and walked down the hall.

“In the family room.” Grams’ voice shook. She sounded forced, scared.

Melinda hurried to the rear of the house. The family room was right off the kitchen, overlooking the backyard.

Her grandmother was there. Sitting on the love seat, her knees pressed together, her hands folded neatly in her lap. But it wasn’t her that had Melinda’s heart climbing up her throat. It was the hulk of a man standing beside her, staring at Melinda.

“Grams?” Melinda’s gaze roamed over him, until it settled on the silver wolf head hanging around his neck.

The man from the coffee shop.

“Melinda.” Grams sniffed back a sob. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know.”

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