Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
By the time they’d been riding for four hours, Lark had stopped counting how many times Ty had muttered something about “city girls” and “tourist nonsense” under his breath.
She’d photographed a red-tailed hawk circling overhead, a family of elk grazing in a distant meadow, wildflowers that painted the hillsides in brilliant purples and yellows, and at least three different species of songbirds that had never seen the inside of a cage.
Each stop had been met with increasingly creative expressions of Ty’s impatience.
“Christ, woman, you’ve got the attention span of a mayfly,” he’d growled when she’d pulled up to capture a pika darting between the rocks. “We’re not on some damn nature walk.”
“It’s called doing my job,” she’d shot back, but the irritation was building in her chest like steam in a kettle. Every time she found that perfect moment of calm—when the world narrowed down to just her, the camera, and something beautiful—his grumbling yanked her back to reality.
Now she was tracking a golden eagle through her telephoto lens, watching it ride the thermals with effortless grace, when Ty’s voice cut through her concentration like a rusty blade.
“Any day now, Princess. That bird’s been circling for ten minutes.”
Lark’s finger tightened on the shutter, but the moment was gone. The eagle had moved on, and so had the light. She lowered her camera with a sigh that she didn’t bother to hide.
“You know,” she said, urging Ranger forward, “some people actually appreciate natural beauty.”
“Some people also appreciate making camp before dark,” Ty replied, not turning around. “And not getting caught in a thunderstorm because they were too busy playing photographer to pay attention to the weather.”
Caesar came bounding back to the trail from whatever scent had caught his attention, tongue lolling happily.
At least someone was enjoying this trip.
The German Shepherd had been darting off and reappearing all morning, nose to the ground, following tracks and investigating interesting smells with an enthusiasm Ty seemed incapable of showing for anything.
“Where exactly are we headed?” Lark asked, pushing down her annoyance. The trail had been climbing steadily, and she could feel the altitude in the way her lungs worked a little harder with each breath.
Ty pointed toward a ridge in the distance, where a cluster of pine trees promised shelter and flat ground. “There. Good water source, protected from the wind.”
Lark raised her camera automatically, using the zoom to get a better look at their destination. The magnification brought the campsite into sharp focus, and she froze.
“There’s a bear over there.”
Ty’s shoulders went rigid. “No, there isn’t.”
“Yes,” Lark said, adjusting her focus, “there is.”
He reined Scout around to face her, scowling. “I’ve been guiding in these mountains for five years. I know when there are bears.”
Without a word, Lark held out her camera. Ty stared at it for a moment like she was offering him a snake, then reluctantly took it and peered through the viewfinder.
His face went very still. “Son of a bitch.”
Through the telephoto lens, the proposed campsite revealed its current occupants: a massive grizzly sow and three cubs, the little ones tumbling over each other in play while mama kept a watchful eye. They looked perfectly content in what Ty had declared to be their home for the night.
Lark didn’t bother to hide her knowing smile as Ty handed back her camera. “Still think I don’t know what I’m looking at?”
“Then we’ll find another site,” he said gruffly, but she caught the grudging respect in his voice.
“Wait.” Lark was already calculating angles and light. “I want to get closer.”
Ty stared at her as if she’d just announced her intention to juggle rattlesnakes. “Are you fucking nuts? You want to go near a mama grizzly and her cubs? Do you have a death wish?”
The genuine alarm in his voice gave her pause. She looked through her camera again at the bear family, noting the protective way the sow positioned herself between her cubs and the open meadow, the way her massive head swiveled at every small sound.
“I...” Lark started, then stopped. He was right, and they both knew it. Getting between a mother bear and her cubs was the kind of mistake you only made once.
“Fine,” she said reluctantly, lowering her camera. “But I’m getting pictures from here.”
“From here,” Ty agreed, and there was something in his voice that might have been relief. “And then we’re finding somewhere else to sleep that doesn’t come with a side of mauling.”
Caesar chose that moment to catch the bear scent on the wind, his head coming up alertly as he looked toward the ridge. Even the dog had better sense than to mess with a grizzly family.
Maybe Ty had a point about city girls and death wishes after all.
Ty watched with grim satisfaction as Lark swung down from Ranger’s saddle and immediately winced, one hand going to her lower back. The stiff way she moved told him everything he needed to know—all the expensive gear in the world couldn’t prepare soft muscles for eight hours in the saddle.
He waited for her to find the nearest rock and plant her ass on it like most city clients did, already formulating his lecture about pacing and realistic expectations. Instead, she squared her shoulders and looked around the small clearing he’d chosen for camp.
“What can I do to help?”
Ty paused in the middle of unsaddling Scout, surprised despite himself. Most clients—hell, most people in general—expected to be waited on once they got this far into the backcountry.
“Put up your tent,” he said, nodding toward her pack. “And make it snappy. Storm’s coming in.”
He could smell it on the wind—that electric tang that meant they had maybe an hour before the sky opened up. The clouds building over the western peaks confirmed it, dark and heavy with the promise of a Montana mountain storm.
“Caesar, guard,” he commanded, and the German Shepherd immediately took up position at the edge of camp, alert and watchful.
Ty grabbed his rifle and started a quick perimeter check, looking for signs of any four-legged neighbors they needed to worry about.
What he found made his jaw tighten—fresh mountain lion tracks in the soft earth near the creek, along with scat that couldn’t be more than a few hours old.
The prints showed a big cat, probably male, and definitely territorial about this particular water source.
Shit. They were stuck here for the night thanks to the incoming weather, but sharing space with a hungry cougar wasn’t exactly ideal sleeping conditions.
When he got back to camp, Lark was staring at the pile of tent components spread out on the ground as if they’d personally offended her.
Her hair had escaped from under her hat in wispy strands that caught the fading light, and there was a small furrow between her brows that he found unexpectedly appealing.
Ty got the fire started with practiced efficiency, stealing glances at her as she picked up tent poles and studied them with the kind of intense concentration most people reserved for defusing bombs. She’d managed to get the rain fly laid out, at least, but the poles were clearly defeating her.
After ten minutes of watching her try to force a pole section into what was obviously the wrong connector, he couldn’t help himself.
“Enjoying the show?” she asked tartly, not looking up from her battle with the tent.
“Totally,” he drawled, settling back on his heels by the fire. “But you might want to shake a leg. We need shelter before that storm hits.”
Lark paused in her wrestling match with the tent poles. “We?”
“That’s a two-man tent, sweetheart. We’re sleeping in there together.” He kept his voice casual, but he was watching her reaction carefully. “So get moving.”
The expression that crossed her face was priceless—surprise, alarm, and something else he couldn’t quite identify. For a moment he thought she might argue, demand her own tent, maybe even stomp off into the woods in a huff.
Instead, she looked at the darkening sky, then back at the tent, and Ty saw her jaw set with determination.
“Fine,” she said. “But you’re helping me with these damn poles.”