Chapter 71 Tilda
Tilda
Fear and amazement twist around my organs.
It’s a mountain lion.
It’s a mountain lion.
The river isn’t that wide. Isn’t flowing so fast that something couldn’t swim across it. Isn’t a good enough barrier between my soft body and those sharp teeth.
“Ethan.” I want to reach for him. Want to jump on his back and make him carry me out of this place. But I don’t dare move.
Are you supposed to stay still for mountain lions? Or is that just T. rexes?
Ethan slowly stands to his full height.
He rolls his shoulders back and spreads his fingers wide as he rotates his wrists, so his palms are facing the giant feline.
I don’t know why he’s doing that. But he’s the park ranger. So I do what he does.
“Go on now.” Ethan’s tone is deep. Commanding.
The mountain lion, standing on the opposite bank, swishes its long tail.
“This side of the river is mine.”
My eyes flit away from the cat to the man.
The man who called me his wife to the person on the phone.
The man who is talking to a freaking mountain lion like it’s a pesky neighborhood dog.
Gods, he’s hot.
A chirping sound snaps my attention back across the river.
Did the cat make that sound?
“That’s it. Go on.” Ethan lifts his arms another inch.
I do the same, causing the flannel I just put on to fan around me.
The mountain lion chirps again. Weird. But then it—she?—turns around and strolls away from the water into the trees.
Ethan keeps his arms out but turns his head to look at me.
The edge of his mouth pulls up as he gives me a once-over, taking in my mimicking pose.
“So.” I try for my own smile, but I think that was the fourth round of anxiety-induced adrenaline today, and my composure is waning. “That was a big cat.”
“An adolescent, I think.”
Ethan glances back across the river, then drops his arms.
I look too, and I can’t see the cat anymore.
I lower my arms. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
Ethan shrugs. “Hunger is more important than age. They wouldn’t have walked away so willingly if they were hungry.”
I stare at him.
Hunger.
As in, she wants to eat us.
“H-how long does it take a mountain lion to get hungry?”
Ethan pulls a face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I’m not scared.” I’d be more convincing if my statement didn’t come out shrill.
Ethan moves closer to me, reaching up and pulling my hair free from the collar of the flannel shirt. “They can go days without eating. Sometimes over a week. We’ll be fine. I promise you.”
“But if it comes back?”
Ethan drops his hand to his hip.
I follow the movement. And notice the gun.
“I don’t want to shoot anything out here. But if I have to, I will. Now tell me you trust me.”
I resist the urge to glance across the river.
If Ethan says he’ll protect me…
I place my hand on his chest. “I trust you.”