The first thing she noticed was the blood.
It dripped down the drain behind the glass counter. It stained the apron he wore. It painted his hands, dark red and thick.
The second thing she noticed was him.
Massive. Silent. Unbothered by her presence.
He stood behind the butcher block with a cleaver in hand, chopping through bone like it was paper. His arms bulged beneath the rolled sleeves of his shirt. His beard was streaked with silver. His eyes? Focused. Unapologetically male.
Lena hesitated at the entrance. The mountain market was almost empty, the lights flickering above her head. She was only supposed to pick up supplies for the cabin she rented.
She wasn’t supposed to stop here.
Definitely not supposed to stare.
He looked up once. Met her gaze.
Didn’t smile.
Didn’t speak.
