Knot Me Up at the Wolf Lodge

Chapter 1

LUCY

Istand in front of Rusty’s Wolf Tavern, craning my neck up to the sign above the door of a glowing red wolf. Except one of its hind legs refuses to light up, so technically, this is a three-legged wolf. And not as intimidating as they were going for by using an apex predator in their logo.

The place sits at the edge of the gravel parking lot at one end of town. It’s an old timber building, aged immensely since I last saw it years ago.

Behind me, my cab drives away, tires crunching over the gravel with an urgency to get out of here. I can’t blame him when there’s not much in this town. I flew across the country, caught a bus, and spent the last hour with the driver, who drove up the mountain and took sharp turns to get here.

And now I’m exhausted.

I push my backpack higher on my shoulders, carrying everything I own as I travel light, which makes life a little depressing. Motorcycles and pickup trucks fill the parking area, meaning it’s going to be full.

At eighteen, I moved out and left the town of Rusty’s Bend behind.

I returned to visit my childhood home since then once, and now I’m back.

Tourists flock here in summer for outdoor activities, yet there isn’t much on offer.

This place has several hardware stores, a bakery, and a bank.

Along with enough red pines to tower over the place.

They’re dark green and endless, climbing the mountains in every direction until they disappear into the haze.

Yet, I find the location beautiful, and since moving to a city, I missed the peacefulness here.

I pull my red coat tighter around myself, and step forward.

The guide to Grandma’s house should be meeting me in the bar, and I push open the heavy timber door.

I stroll into a mudroom where coats line the iron hooks on the wall. The place smells like wet leather and a thousand cigarettes.

Keeping my jacket on, I push through the inner door into the bar and immediately trip over the doorframe, lurching forward. So much for making a dignified entrance.

I catch myself on the doorjamb. Every head in the place turns, and my cheeks heat up.

Wonderful job, Lucy.

There are even more people than I expected at this early hour.

It’s almost eleven in the morning. Yet there are men in work shirts drinking beers, some in forestry shirts, and one bearded man playing darts with his buddy.

And I bet they’re all thinking the same thing as they see me with the huge backpack.

She’s not from here.

Which is hilarious, seeing as I was literally raised here.

Well, born about twenty minutes down the mountain and just out of town, then raised in a cottage higher up in these exact woods by the world’s most amazing grandmother.

But after living in the city and returning, I don’t recognize anyone in this bar.

“Morning,” I say. “Let’s all pretend that didn’t happen.”

The bartender snorts, and someone else laughs, while the rest return to their drinks.

An empty tall table near the wall catches my eye. I claim the stool, shrug my backpack onto another seat, and scan the bar for my guide.

No one appears to be waiting for me.

I unzip my bag, checking on the little white box nestled. The baked goodies survived—Grandma’s peace offering, seeing as I’ve stayed away for too long. Lemon tarts from the bakery near my old apartment in Miami.

The door opens behind me.

I glance over automatically, and my attention catches on the flash of red around the newcomer’s neck. A bandanna, knotted loosely against a checkered shirt. He’s probably in his mid-thirties, with a long, narrow face, hair thinning at the temples, and a wiry build.

Grandma Eve’s instructions drift back to me from our last phone call. He’ll be wearing a red bandanna, love. When you see him, you’ll know.

Well… that must be him.

I have to admit, I was expecting something a little more dramatic.

Grandma made it sound like I’d feel some undeniable spark of recognition, some Ah yes, this is my destined woodland guide moment.

Instead, he’s no different from every other local in the bar.

Jeans, boots, shirt. If it weren’t for the bandanna, I’d never have picked him out of the crowd.

Maybe that’s what she meant.

I catch his eye and give him a wave.

He notices me almost immediately. After the briefest pause, he changes direction and walks over, weaving easily between the tables.

“I’m Roman Alvec.” He offers me his hand. “Your grandma, Eve, sent me.”

“Hi.” I shake it, feeling his firm grip. “Lucy Rose. Eve’s granddaughter.”

He just smiles at me, then glances around the place, instantly throwing us into awkwardness.

“So. My grandma said you’d take me up through the woods since apparently cabs and Ubers can’t make it to the lodge due to some storms?”

“Yep.” He turns back toward me. “Rain’s been bad the last few weeks.

Access roads to Crimson Pine Lodge are washed out.

The creek took half the lower road with it.

Only way up to the lodge is the old trail.

” He stares at me, his gaze traveling up and down.

“An hour and a half on foot. Maybe more, depending on how fast we move.”

Grandma already told me this on the phone while she’s in hospital on painkillers for her broken ankle.

And she’s arranged for someone to lead me to the lodge as though I’d forget how to reach the lodge I grew up in.

But she insisted she didn’t want me out there alone.

Right now, her lodge is running with one helper—Ethan.

That’s why I’m here and not at the hospital visiting her because she needs me to run the place.

It just so happens to be perfect timing, seeing that I’m unemployed, unattached, and unavailable for anything better, so here I am.

“Okay then,” I say. “Shall we head off?”

He glances at his phone, and something in his shoulders shifts. A tightening, there and gone. “Let’s go.”

“Yep. Of course.” It’s exactly what I had said seconds earlier, but whatever.

And honestly? Fine by me if he’s going to keep to himself.

I hate small talk, and this guy clearly left his sparkling personality in his other checkered shirt.

The quicker I get to the lodge, the faster I can be surrounded by those who are legally obligated to like me.

All right, it’s one person only. And I get along well with Ethan.

Always have, and coupled with him being an amazing cook, I’m going to be eating well.

No more udon noodles every night because it’s cheap and fast.

In the mudroom, Roman grabs a canvas coat off a hook and shrugs into it while I adjust my backpack.

“You know, I told Grandma I could go up on my own. It’s only been two years since I last visited the lodge.” I laugh, sounding awkward.

He doesn’t glance my way while he does up his buttons. “There have been animals coming down the mountain lately. Bears and wolves.”

“Wolves,” I repeat. “You sure?”

“Yep, seen them with my own eyes.” He lifts his chin, almost proud of the fact.

Curious. Eighteen years in this forest and the scariest thing I ever met was an opossum with boundary issues, but now, sure. Wolves.

“And I’ll be safe with you?” I ask it jokingly, noting he has muscles, though I’m not sure if he’s big enough to take on a wolf on his own.

He studies me, saying, “You shouldn’t have traveled out here alone.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“You’re an Omega.” He says it as if that’s enough of an explanation. “Especially not through these woods. There are plenty of Alphas who wander them.”

I raise an eyebrow, so tired of these comments because everyone thinks Omegas should just be submissive and hide. “Funny. No one ever says there are plenty of Alphas who should learn some self-control.”

He raises an eyebrow in response and pushes the door to head outdoors.

I’ve heard that crap about Omegas a lot.

I’ve lived with those rules my whole life.

Omegas aren’t supposed to travel alone, especially through places like this.

Some towns won’t even rent a room to us without an Alpha or another adult signing us in, as though we’re children who can’t be trusted with our own safety. It infuriates me.

Grandma didn’t raise me that way. Maybe because she was an Omega too, but she taught me to respect the forest, not fear it, and there’s a world of difference between the two.

I march outside, following Roman whose stoic expression hasn’t changed.

For a moment, we simply stare at each other.

Finally, he lets out the smallest sigh. “I didn’t mean to upset you in there. I’m saying you should be careful out here.”

Some of the annoyance pours out of me. “Yeah, I get it,” I admit. “Just get tired of everyone acting like it’s our responsibility to manage other people’s instincts.”

He nods, and we begin our trek away from the tavern and down the sidewalk. “Besides,” he says after a moment, “I owed Eve a favor, which is why I’m here with you.”

“Ooh.” I grab onto that immediately because favors are gossip which is my love language. And I’d prefer not to hold onto the earlier tension between us. “What kind?”

He laughs. It’s a rough sound. “That’s not my story to share.” Then he grins, and it’s all teeth. I try not to cringe.

“So you work with my grandma?” I say.

“In some capacity.”

Something cold turns over in my stomach. Grandma can read a stranger’s soul over a cup of tea. If she thinks Roman checks out, then he’s fine. He just has the social skills of a rabbit trap. Lots of people do, seeing as I dated two of them.

“Great,” I say, cheerier than I feel.

Rusty’s Bend spreads forward into a long main street with side streets that lead to grocery stores and more shops, along with residential homes. We pass the bakery, and the smell of bread leaves me salivating. I have a weakness for freshly baked pastries.

Grandma and I used to come here during our monthly grocery runs, and she’d buy me one of the cinnamon rolls.