Chapter 2
BEARS DON’T TALK
APRIL
“You have no new messages.” Sigh. Of course I haven’t missed any calls, because not one magazine, website, or even catalogue was booking plus-size models. Every brand was into heroin chic, and I hated that with all my heart.
Not that I had any models left to book. All my girls had given up.
I should have been a sports agent like my daddy. The money to be made there didn’t care what your body looked like, just if you could play. In fact, the football teams slathered like drooling St. Bernards over big, thick linebackers. Like Bridger Kingman.
I’d admit to a little of my own drooling.
He was one hell of a big boy, and I hadn’t missed the big boy tenting the front of his pants either.
You’d have to be on the fricking moon not to see that, and I had been eye to umm, eye with his.
.. oh geez, I needed to quit thinking about him in that way. Totally inappropriate.
Yeah, I’d known who he was the moment I saw him pick up that unicorn wallpaper. You’d have to be living under a rock, in a cave, with no cell phone reception to miss professional football’s meanest defensive linebacker.
Word on the street was that he was about to fire his agent and was a giant pain in the ass to work with. Regardless, everyone in the biz would be climbing over each other to get him signed. Who wouldn’t with a multi-million-dollar contract on the line? Good luck to them.
He didn’t seem that mean to me. Maybe a bit distracted and grumpy, but his eyes had sparkled when he’d asked me about my cabin.
My. Cabin.
All I’d wanted was someplace to get away from the hustle and bustle of New York, but someplace far, far away from Texas and the disappointment I knew was waiting from my parents. I needed some peace and quiet to regroup and figure out what in the world I was going to do next.
When I emailed Tanner, my sister May’s brother-in-law, asking if he had a lead on someplace in the mountains where he lived that I could escape to, he’d somehow talked me into buying this cabin.
As my rented SUV slipped and skidded through the snow on the one-lane barely-a-road for the eleventy-hundredth time, I was beginning to understand why I’d gotten such a great deal.
I should be able to see the place by now, but all I saw were more trees and over there, some more trees, and up there, even more trees. Oh, and then there were the rocks.
My tires spun and I moved a half an inch or so forward. I really should pay more attention to where I was driving and quit daydreaming about how I’d like to see the monster in Bridger Kingman’s pants for myself.
“Come on, four-wheel-drive, you can do it. I promise a nice long rest for you if you just get me to the cabin, okay?” I didn’t dare go any faster than I already was, but at this rate, I’d be lucky to get to the top of the mountain by sunset.
What if there were wild animals in the dark waiting to eat me?
Tanner had said there were bears in this area.
I gave the SUV a bit more gas and prayed I didn’t end up a story in the newspaper.
“Failed plus-size model turned talent agent dies in mysterious car accident. Did she see that tree coming? More news at eleven.”
I skidded around in the snow some more and happily avoided plowing into any trees. But then the road just ended, and there, within the dusky rays of sun shining down through the clouds, was my cabin.
Or, err, my wooden shed? Damn. This place had sure looked bigger in the pictures. The pile of wood Tanner had promised would be stacked next to it was as tall as, and almost as wide as, the whole building itself. That’s what I got for buying it sight unseen.
Two minutes after I opened the door, I knew I was screwed. It was colder inside than out, and I had no idea where to even start. The right answer was probably to go home. To Texas.
A fire. I’d start with a fire. There was enough junk and leaves and stuff tossed around in here to burn down the forest. I should burn the whole cabin down and start from scratch.
What a pile of poop Tanner had sold me. He was getting an earful from me tomorrow, and then I was tattling on him to my sister.
I blew out a long breath and rubbed my hands together.
I was not a quitter. I could still do this if it meant the peace and quiet I needed to rethink my life.
Step one, start a fire to warm the place up, step two was going to be cleaning up and a bit of inventory to see if I even had a place to sleep tonight.
Besides my car. Did Bear Claw Valley even have a hotel? I’d even take a motel at this point.
Nope. No. That was prissy quitter thinking, and I was not giving up.
I grabbed some logs from the pile of wood outside, some newspapers from the stack next to the little wood-burning stove, and the long matches out of the bag of stuff I’d bought at the hardware store.
I’d gotten them hoping to light some scented candles, not even thinking I’d need them to survive the night.
I could always drive back down the mountain, but I could not take another defeat just yet.
First, I was calling on my finely honed Girl Scout skills and doing the best with what I had in front of me.
Twelve matches and two slightly singed fingers later, and I had a fire going.
And only half the cabin had filled with smoke before I figured out how to open the damper to the flue.
Step one down, a million more to go if I was going to make this into my ideal retreat. I hadn’t bought a broom, but I did get a little dustpan and brush. Good thing there was only about a hundred square feet of floor.
I started piling up the junk near the door, found a half-full bottle of whiskey for my trouble, and discovered the chain that was supposed to be attached to the pull-down ladder to the little sleeping loft.
I was looking around for something I could stand on to reattach it when I heard the scratching and growling at the door.
Crap. I knew I was going to get eaten by a wild animal.
No, no. Calm down. Maybe it’s just a squirrel, or a raccoon. I wanted to make animal friends. I’d just go peek out the window and see what had come to visit. Granted, I could barely see out of the dirt crusting the panes, but that meant whatever was out there wouldn’t be able to see me either.
Still, I bent over and sneaky-style creeped to the window and peeked over the ledge.
Oh my gawd. There was something big and brown and furry sniffing around the door.
A bear. There was a freaking bear trying to get into my cabin. A freaking bear.
I dropped down to my knees so it couldn’t see me. Maybe if I stayed very quiet, it would go away. But wait, didn’t bears have an excellent sense of smell? Oh no. What if I smelled delicious?
Very carefully, I crawled across the floor to the opposite wall. Geez, the floor was absolutely freezing. Frigid air poured up through the boards. If the air could get in, it meant it could get out, and that meant the bear would smell me anywhere.
Think, April. Think of a solution.
If it can’t be fixed with duct tape, it can’t be fixed.
I crawled over near the stove and pulled the big, silvery roll of tape out, snapped the plastic wrapping open with my teeth and very, very gently pulled an arm’s length off the roll.
Any faster, and I risked the bear hearing a sound that could very well be interpreted as a growl, or the cry of an injured. .. umm, bunny?
The bear scratched at the door again, and I swear I heard snuffling sounds. It took everything I had to hold in my squeaks of fear.
What if I duct taped the door shut? Surely a mass of sticky tape would flummox a wild animal.
I put the piece of tape with my teeth and crawled back toward the door.
If I paid attention to the cardio workout level of my heartbeat or the tangy taste of fear in the back of my throat, I wouldn’t get this done.
Carefully I laid the tape across the bottom of the door—where I could literally see his feet moving around in the gap—and pressed the edges to get it to stick. This piece was only long enough to go halfway.
Before I got another piece started, the bear jumped up on the door and the whole cabin rattled, the door quaking on its hinges. I couldn’t help it this time, the scream just popped out of me. In response I heard a horrible woofing sound. I didn’t know bears sounded like dogs.
“Go away. I’m sure I’m not delicious to eat.” Which was a lie. I had plenty of fat stores that I’m sure a bear would relish. Wasn’t he supposed to be hibernating?
“Bear, you get back down here, you naughty thing. Just because you’re cute, doesn’t mean you can—” A grouchy, deep, manly voice yelled at the animal from somewhere near the cabin. I was saved.
Wait a minute. Bears don’t talk. And who talks to bears? Especially like that? I knew just the grumpity grump who had the balls to yell at a bear.
“Help. I’m being attacked by a wild animal!” Oh geez, I hoped that didn’t anger the beast and have it knocking down my door to eat my face.
“Down, Bear. Sit.”
I listened close to try and see what in the world would happen next. Surely a bear doesn’t follow commands. Then I heard the slurping and chomping sounds. Crunch, cronch, crack.
Oh no. Oh, no no no no no. The bear was eating Bridger and it was all my fault.
“Good boy. That’s a good boy, you’re the best boy, aren’t you, Bear? Yes, you are.” The sweetest ooey gooey voice praised the bear.
Like... what?
First of all, Bridger Kingman didn’t know how to be sweet, and second, did he have a trained bear? This wasn’t the eighteenth-century Russian court for goodness’ sake, it was a small mountain town in Colorado.
Someone, or something, knocked on the door, practically rattling it right off the hinges. “April? It’s Bridger Kingman. We met at the hardware store. You’re okay now. Come on out. No one’s going to eat you.”
Swear to God, I heard him mumble something more that sounded like, “Unless you ask me too.”
I crawled back across the floor and peeked over the windowsill. Yep. That was Bridger Kingman, petting the fluffy, brown, furry head of his... dog.
His. Big ass, brown, fluffy, furry dog.
I slipped down the wall and hung my head for a full three breaths while I made faces at myself. It took me a couple more to tell my heart to stop freaking out. No bears were going to eat me. But maybe a hot defensive linebacker was?
It’s not like every woman I knew didn’t have a crush on him. Well, no. That wasn’t entirely true. New York’s elite chic, who were literally scared of large bodies, didn’t go gah-gah for him. Bridger was a big boy. Had to be for his job.
And that turned me the hell on. What I wouldn’t do to be wrapped up and kept safe and warm by someone who wasn’t going to break when I sat on their face.
Did it just get hot in here? I fanned my face and then remembered Bridger was literally standing at my door asking for me. Right. I was hot from embarrassment, not because I was fantasizing about what that beard could to do my girly parts.
Get your poop in a group, April. The man is standing at your door. Open it.
I pulled myself off the floor and gave the handle a tug. It moved but was stuck. Oh, right. I taped it shut. A good yank, and the door opened. The duct tape went flying and stuck to my leg, all twisted up. “Sup?”
Sup? Really? That’s what I decided to say? Okay then, let’s go with white girl gangsta style. “Yo.”
Bridger looked down at his dog who made that cute head twist dogs make when they don’t know what’s happening either. I couldn’t blame him. I didn’t know what I was going on right now.
“Uh, yo... uh, you doing okay up here?”
“Yep, fine. Super, great. Can’t you tell?” I waved my hand around the wreck of a cabin.
“I can. Bear decided he wanted to check out the new neighbor, and I figured we’d better make sure this old cabin wasn’t falling down around you.”
The steps to the little loft came crashing down just as he said that. I cringed and sank down into myself and squeaked, “Everything’s fine.”
“Right. Well, there’s a storm coming, and—”
Just as he said that, not one, not two, not three, but three billion snowflakes crashed down from the sky. I thought snow was supposed to come down all floaty and pretty. This was not pretty. It was snowpocalypse.
I grabbed Bridger by the front of his shirt and yanked him into the cabin. He tripped over the other twisted piece of duct tape and grabbed onto me to stay upright.
Which meant I ended up curled into his great big bear-hug arms. What was that he said about eating me if I asked?