Page 1 of To Challenge a Wolf

One

Another day, another wolf pack.

Today Vivian’s quest took her from her Chicago condo to the miniscule town of Harmony Ridge, Tennessee. Based on satellite maps, it was the definition ofsleepy small town, the sort that no one knew existed but the people who’d been born there. The population numbered under a thousand. A perfect hideout if Rhett had actually, finally, shockingly settled in one spot.

She coasted into town around five o’clock and grabbed an early dinner at an adorable retro-style diner. She would’ve enjoyed the tasty turkey club wrap if her thoughts hadn’t been consumed with her possible proximity to Rhett Helvering. The man might have eaten here this week.

Or she might be on yet another wild wolf chase.

While she ate, she pulled out her little green steno pad and reviewed her notes, though she knew them by heart.

The wolf pack who lived here didn’t show up in the public channels online. She’d found them nonetheless, thanks to a directory accessible to human parents of newly emerged wolf pups. The parents were invited to reach out to a wolf pack andinquire about arranging guardianship for their child. It was a list of contact names, phone numbers, and locations, all of which were familiar thanks to ten years spent tracking and visiting each of these very packs. For the first time, the idea had taken form in her mind that she might have run out of places to look. She might have exhausted the entire wolf population of the United States. Before she could panic about the possibility, an unknown name and town had leaped out at her.

Malachi Fuller, Harmony Ridge, TN.

His phone number was now scrawled in her steno pad, but she had not tried to call him. No telling how he’d react to someone hunting for one of his pack, especially if he happened to be the alpha. Most of the names in the directory were alphas, though not all of them. A human unfamiliar with wolves might find her decision odd, but after careful consideration, the safest thing for Rhett and for herself had seemed to be…showing up in person unannounced.

She finished her wrap and walked next door to the coffee shop. Easiest thing would be to approach the residents and ask where the wolf pack lived. But Rhett’s safety required discretion.

The young woman behind the café counter smiled as Vivian stepped up to order. She wore her curly black hair down around her shoulders. Her name tag readwillow.

“Hi, what can I make for you today?”

Vivian looked past her to the menu on the wall but then shrugged. “Caffeine. Cold brew. Whatever.”

“Okay, sure,” Willow said. “Cream? Flavor shot?”

“I really don’t care. If you could give it to me in an IV, I’d take it. Oh wait, on second thought, breve would be nice.”

“How about an iced breve? Espresso with half-and-half, no syrup.”

“Yeah, that. Perfect.”

“One iced breve, coming right up.”

Willow rang up her purchase and then stepped away to start the drink.

“By yourself?” Vivian said. That seemed unsafe.

“No, my coworker’s on break, and the manager’s around here somewhere too. It’s been unusually quiet today.”

Unfortunate. No residents to chat up for information.

Then the bell above the door tinkled, and three men strode into the café. Two were white, one Black, and Vivian registered close-cropped sandy-blond hair, wavy black hair, and a mid-length Afro before her brain disregarded all individual physical characteristics in favor of the two things these men had in common: height well over six feet and unnaturally muscular physique. Her breath stalled for a moment. She stopped blinking. She could only stare at the three men. The three…wolves.

Harmony Ridge did indeed have a wolf pack. Vivian looked past them as though a fourth wolf might step through the café door. A wolf slightly shorter at six-foot-two, no less muscular, motorcycle boots on his feet and cargo pants with threadbare hems, his brown hair buzzed close to his scalp. But Rhett did not appear.

Behind the counter, Willow-the-barista brightened and beamed. She gave a little wave as she continued making Vivian’s drink. “Hey, guys. Right on time. Y’all are so predictable.”

“Hey, Wil,” the blond man said with a smile.

“No Molly, no Devin?” The Black man cast a look around the café as if he might have missed them standing in plain view.

“They’re in the back.”

Meanwhile the third man, with a stray black curl fallen over his forehead that reminded Vivian of a certain super-powered alien in her favorite comics, ran his gaze past her but didn’t stare. Still she understood: she was a stranger in a small town, and she had been noticed as such.

Willow handed over her drink. “Iced breve.”

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