3. Maverick
Maverick
“What do you think, Hank? Needs a little off the top, right?”
I scratch my head, staring at the bear sculpture I’ve been working on for my niece.
Last time she was here, she asked for one in a tutu.
I’m more accustomed to building furniture than sculpting, but I like a challenge.
But more than that, I like pleasing Dora.
Nothing better than seeing that little tike happy.
Unfortunately, this bear has been proving difficult. Not that it’s the bear’s fault. Or the wood, for that matter—a thick round of oak I’d hewn a few winters ago. No, the difficulty is recent. Acute. It’s visceral.
I swallow hard, thinking back to earlier today at the Hungry Hiker. To her . Don’t even know her name, but I can’t stop thinking about her. That bright smile. Watery blue eyes. The?—
I wrench my eyes shut. I shouldn’t be thinking about her.
She’s a tourist. Camera slung around her neck.
Bright white tennis shoes. Everything about her telegraphed it, yet I can’t stop thinking about her.
Which is why I’m struggling with this bear.
Damn near chopped its head off while I was outlining its neck.
I pull down my mask and scrub my face, perching myself on the side of my workbench.
I close my eyes, but all I see is her, sitting there by the window as she neglects her food and glances at the mountains.
They’re beautiful. Thought they were the most stunning natural beauty in the world until I saw her.
I clear my throat, opening my eyes as the rain pounds against my workshop. I thought throwing myself into this project would help, but it’s not. Can’t concentrate. Cant— wait .
“Hank?”
I glance around, but I don’t see him. I thought it had been too quiet. My partner in crime/project manager is missing.
He better not be raiding my fridge. Not again.
I don’t know how he did it, but one day I found him passed out in front of the refrigerator, half-eaten boxes of food scattered all around him.
I tried rousing him, but the little guy wouldn’t budge.
Kept groaning and moaning but refused to move.
Not that he could with a belly that nearly tripled in size.
I sigh, considering checking on him, but decide not to. My current project needs more of my attention if I plan on finishing before Dora’s birthday.
I replace my mask, rev my chainsaw, and get to work.
Sawdust flies in every direction as I carve a little more off the top.
Stepping back, I consider a new change on the fly.
That chunk of wood is looking a lot like a bow.
Bet Dora would like her ballerina bear to have a bow, so I leave it be and make a mental note to chisel it out later.
I don’t trust myself with the chainsaw right now. It likely would lose an ear if I tried, and I’d have a difficult time explaining to Dora what happened.
Did it get into a fight?
Didn’t eat its vegetables. Ear fell right off because of it. So make sure you eat your vegetables.
I snort. Ryder would kill me if he found out I’d told her that.
I wouldn’t, although I feel it’s my duty as an uncle to spread a little chaos now and then.
And of course, allow Dora to let loose a little.
Usually, that means an ice cream cone at Sweet Peaks or an extra episode of whatever cartoon she wants to watch.
I let the chainsaw idle for a moment as I step back and inspect the bear. It’s rough and chunky, but it’ll come together. Most projects do, even though I never think that until they’re finally done.
I check my watch. It’s getting late, and I’d better check in on Hank.
He might be strolling the forest, sleeping in the cabin, or raiding my refrigerator.
If it’s the latter, I’m likely too late.
Once that boy starts, there’s no stopping him, shoveling food into his mouth like he hasn’t eaten in years.
I’m about to set my chainsaw down when I hear something. A scream. It’s unmistakable—unbelievable given how far I am up the mountain. No one should be here, especially not in this storm.
I take off toward it, tearing open the door and raising my arm in an attempt to block out the rain and see if I can find the person. And there she is—a dark shape hobbles out of my cabin, slowly moving down the front steps.
“What the…”
I’m not sure why someone would break into my cabin.
I’m even more confused why they’d be scre— Hank.
Son of a gun. That guy’s going to get me in trouble one day.
Ever since I rescued him as a kit and nursed him back to health, he’s been attached to me.
Overprotective, really. He doesn’t like anyone except me and Dora.
He tried to chase Ryder out the first time he saw him.
Picked him up by the tail and let him shadow box the air until he tired himself out. He pointedly ignores him now.
It’s too dark for me to see anything. I can only make out her dark outline as she moves slowly through the open field in front of my cabin. But then lightning strikes, and I see her. Her— the woman from earlier, no doubt about it. I’d recognize those eyes. Those lips. Those— fuuuuuuck.
Now I’m even more confused. I know I’m not the best looking guy in the world, but this is the first time someone screamed at the sight of— shit . Chainsaw. Respirator. That poor woman must think...
Jesus, this is not the first impression I wanted to make.
“STAY BACK! I have mace.”
Before I have the chance to warn her, she sprays the air as a strong gust of wind blows through.
“ Ahfuckughlegh!” she screams.
I drop my chainsaw and rip off my respirator and walk towards her.
It’s taking everything inside me not to run, but I know she’s already scared.
If she sees me trucking after her, I’m not sure what she’ll do.
Best to go slow right now, not that I need to go very fast to catch up to her.
She’s hobbling into the forest, moving as quickly and dextrously as a newborn baby deer, so I decide to make a quick detour and check out what the hell Hank did to spook her.
“Son of a…”
It looks like someone used my damn cabin as a Slip ’N Slide. There’s water and mud all over the floor. Furniture is overturned. But the most egregious sin of all is Hank chowing down on my damn cake.
“Hank! Get. Over here.”
I stomp toward him, damn near slipping myself, but I recover, grabbing hold of my dining room table.
Hank, on the other hand, hasn’t budged, tiny claws digging into the slice of cake I’d saved from earlier today and shoving it into his maw.
I close the gap and grab him by the scruff, but he growls, tightening his grip around the plate as I carry him out of the kitchen.
“You’re sleeping outside if you don’t give this plate up.”
He chitters in defiance for a moment, but loosens his grip enough that I can slip it out of his tiny but vicelike grasp and toss it into the sink.
“I’ll deal with you later. Now it’s time to go see about a girl.”
My girl.
“Easy,” I mutter, hands out in front of me. “No one’s going to hurt you.”
Found my girl no more than fifty yards from the edge of the woods, huddled up against a downed tree and brandishing a flimsy tree limb.
The front of her is completely slick with mud, from her pretty head to her bare feet.
The only color on her besides dark mud is her bloodshot eyes and bright white teeth.
And with twigs, leaves, and other forest detritus caked to her and her wild, messy hair, she’s looking like a swamp monster who’s just climbed out of a dank hole. But lord have mercy, I’m smitten.
She jabs the limb at me. “Stay back,” she cries out, sniffling and swiping at her eyes.
My adrenaline kicks in as my protective instincts ramp into overdrive. “Are you hurt?” It comes out harsher than I mean it, but I don’t have much control right now knowing she’s in pain.
She’s all teared up, snotty too, as she gestures at her face. “Bear mace.”
That’d do it. Happened to me once and never again.
“How about you come back with me, and we sort this all out?”
Before she has a chance to respond, Hank comes strolling around the side of me, chittering as he waddles toward her, the bell on his collar jangling.
“Keep that thing away from me! He tried to kill me earlier.”
I glance at the stick and then at Hank, sitting on his haunches and looking over his shoulder at me. I know, buddy. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. Unless, of course, it landed on your food. Then there’d be hell to pay.
“Hank’s as friendly as raccoons come. I’m sure there’s just been a misunderstanding.”
She looks at me strangely, and then back at Hank before staring at me.
She opens her mouth but stops. She’s a little worse for wear, and I’d like to get her back to my cabin.
Fix her up. Fix us up a meal. This storm isn’t letting up anytime soon, and I'd like to get back inside and get a fire going.
“Point taken, though. I understand you might’ve been through…” I take a few steps, and she jabs the stick toward me again, shaking her head. I smile and then kneel next to Hank. “Hank, how about you give our guest a little space?”
Hank chitters, glances at her, and then climbs up onto my shoulder, and I stand up again. A few steps closer, and she can’t take a step back. Not with that log behind her.
“Who… are you?”
It doesn’t sound like a question, but I answer anyway. “Maverick. Owner of this land you’ve found yourself on.”
“Beware of Hank…” she mutters to herself, lowering her stick and gaze briefly before raising both back to attention. “Is he your pet?”
Hank chitters indignantly as he circles my neck.
“Hank’s no one’s pet,” I say, trying to soothe him. “He’s my assistant. Well, he’d tell you he’s my supervisor, but I’m trying to curb his authoritarian instincts.”
She stares at me blankly.
“Friend also works, too.”
Hank settles on my shoulder in agreement before hacking something up into his paw. He hops down and tosses it at the girl before I get a chance to stop him.
She squeals, her feet slipping against the mud as she tries to get away from Hank.
I sigh, shaking my head. “I’m sorry about that. Hank was just trying to share some of his cake. I think he’s taken quite a liking to you.”
First person since Dora he’s tried that on. Usually, he just hisses, growls, or avoids new people. Guess he’s just as smitten as I am.
She’s speechless, but she’s not waving her stick at either of us. I consider that a win, but now I need to somehow coax her back to my cabin. You’d think it would be easy in a storm like this.
“How about you come back to my cabin? I can get you a change of clothes, a hot shower, and a warm meal. And I promise Hank won’t offer anymore… presents.”
Her frown softens, and Hank chitters in agreement, slinking back toward me. I pick him up and he climbs onto my shoulder. His favorite spot, apart from his bed in my workshop.
I’m not sure what I’ll do if she tries to make a break for it. I don’t want to force her, but I’m not going to let her risk her life out here. Guess I’d better embellish a little.
“I don’t want to frighten you, but we should leave soon. Wolves are about.”
Somewhere. Likely in a cozy den and out of the rain, but that’s a small detail.
Her eyes widen. “Wolves?”
I suck at my teeth. “Afraid so. They’ve got a den not far from here. Hank scared one off not too long ago, didn’t you, boy?”
Hank stares at me before letting out a confused chitter. She doesn’t know the difference, though.
“So, how about it?”
She swallows, looking back and forth between Hank and me.
“I guess I don’t have much choice.”
“Not really.” I move toward her, helping her to her feet. “I wouldn’t risk it in this weather, or as beat up as you.”
She snort-cries, and it makes me feel awful. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”
She sniffles, tries to wipe her nose on her sleeve, but it’s caked in mud.
“ Pfffpflupm! ” She swipes at her nose and face, trying to get the mud out of her nostrils.
Hank chitters, and I reach for her. “Here, take my arm.”
She doesn’t say anything, glancing at my arm hesitantly before rubbing her face all over it.
And sweet Jesus, it does something to me.
My arm and chest start tingling as my breathing quickens.
I think Hank senses something because he gets a little anxious on my shoulder.
This girl. I don’t even know her damn name, and I’m already feeling completely consumed by her.
“Thanks,” she mutters. “And I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I think I made a real mess of your cabin.”
She has no idea the real mess she’s making is inside me. She has no clue she’s wrecking me.
“That’s alright. I’m used to a bit of a mess living with this guy.” I jerk my chin toward Hank. He turns his back on me and harrumphs.
“You live with him?”
“He’s got a spot in my workshop. Plush.”
Hank chitters in agreement.
“H-he’s got all his shots, right? No rabies?”
I snort. “He’s all up to date. Take him to the vet twice a year. Probably the most well-taken care of raccoon in the world, although he might disagree now that there’s a lock on the fridge.”
She smiles, but then her face pales. “I left the fridge open.”
“I know. Hank here made quick work of my cake. Luckily, I caught him before he got to my leftover curry. That would be another story.”
She smiles even bigger this time, and I can’t help but light up. Lordy, this girl has a hold on me.
“I take it that’s happened before.”
“And it wasn’t pretty. The cleanup or the…” I swallow. “Well, you get the picture.”
Never want to see or smell that again.
“So how about it, uh…” I let the sentence hang.
“Corinne,” she says as she tries to tuck a clump of hair behind her ear.
“Corinne,” I rasp, letting it roll over my tongue. It suits her. Never met a Corinne before, but I’m glad she’s my first. “Well, nice to meet you. Are you able to walk?”
She takes a few shaky steps, nearly falling, but I catch her.
“It’s okay,” I mutter. “Just take it easy. I’ll carry you back. Hank,” I rasp, turning my head. “You’ve got four working paws, so use ‘em.”
He makes a defiant grunt.
“I don’t want to hear it. Off.”
He slinks off my back and then toward the cabin, stopping a few yards away to wait for us.
Corinne looks at me. “He doesn’t understand you, right?”
I shrug. “Maybe. Maybe not. But he understands context and tone better than most animals I’ve come across.”
She shakes her head in disbelief, but I don’t mind. Once she gets to know Hank. Me . She’ll come around.
“Now let’s get going.” I flash a quick smile. “I think I heard a wolf howling.”
Her eyes light up, and then she squeals as I lean forward and throw her over my shoulder. Holding her feels even better than I imagined. So much so that I’m not sure I’ll let her go when we get back to our cabin.
Our cabin? I’m done for.