Chapter 10
Adam
It’s another foggy morning, and I’m back in the woods trading SD cards out of my trail cameras.
The land trust can’t put money into the wireless kind, which would make this a whole lot easier.
Instead, I have to drag the memory cards back to my cabin to download whatever images they’ve captured.
The cameras have been up for about a week now, but the lack of purple Takis trash makes me think that I won’t find anything useful.
The distinct ring of a video call comes from my back pocket, and I slide my phone free to answer.
“Hey, Sis. Late night?”
Ruth's dark hair is wild around her face, and there’s a pillow behind her head. “Yeah.” She yawns through the word. “But I want to know how last night went. Did you meet anyone?”
I made the mistake of telling her I was going to dinner in town. She dared me to talk to any woman between the ages of twenty-five and forty. I only talked to one: Stevie. And I'll never admit it. If I mention the same woman twice in a row, my sister will start jumping to conclusions.
Stevie is exasperating and possibly delusional, though. Plus quirky, hilarious, and kind of a knockout in a woodland sprite sort of way. Those brown eyes . . .
Part of me wishes there was a conclusion to jump to.
“Adam? Did you hear me?” Ruth rubs her eye, yawning again.
“No, I didn’t meet anyone new.” That’s not a lie. “How are things going with you guys?” I'd rather talk about my sister, her husband, and my niece. I'm also trying to multitask. I'm hiking toward the next camera while we talk.
“Don’t deflect,” my sister sasses. “I see what you’re doing.”
“I’m not deflecting.”
“We’re all good—wait.” She gasps, and when I look at the screen, she's pulled her phone close like she's trying to get a better look. “Let me see your shirt,” she demands loudly.
My shirt? Oh . . . Oops. I grabbed the closest T-shirt before I left to do this sweaty job, and it happens to be the one I wore home from the diner last night.
It’s the shirt with a picture of yours truly wearing a ghillie suit and looking like a Skunk Ape.
My face burns hot at the reminder that Stevie is selling these T-shirts in the diner and online.
I’ve never wanted to be famous and certainly not in this way.
No one can ever know that I’m the person on this T-shirt.
Luckily, no one seems to know it’s me. Yet.
I’m not looking forward to showing this to my sister, though.
“Come on, Adam,” she goads. “I already saw it. Just gimme a little peek.” She pinches her fingers together for the camera. “Real quick.”
With a heavy sigh, I pull my phone away from my body and pivot it down slightly. “There. Happy?” I’m waiting for the mockery to start; instead, she pouts.
“I can’t believe you already have one,” Ruth whines. “How did you get yours so fast? Mine isn’t supposed to be here for like a week.”
I almost drop my phone in the dirt in my hurry to redirect the camera. “You ordered one?!”
“Duh.” She makes a face. “It’s not every day my brother gets mistaken for a sasquatch and becomes an online phenomenon.” She’s fighting laughter.
“Ruth.” I drag a hand down my face. “Don’t encourage her.”
“Why not?” A familiar, taunting smile flickers over her mouth. “Seems like she’s a good person. A school teacher with a wholesome side hustle? I can support that.”
“Have you been stalking her?” This is so, so bad.
“Only a little. I follow her Squatch Watcher account, which is freaking genius, by the way. So funny. Have you listened to her podcast yet?”
Yes. Am I going to tell my sister that? Not a chance. “No.”
“Are you sure about that?”
I growl. Ruth sees through me too easily, which is incredibly irritating when I’ve done something I’m not proud of. “Yes, okay. Yes. I listened to it.” And it made me sad.
Here’s the thing: Stevie isn’t just a beautiful forest mascot with huge brown eyes; she’s also clever.
Witty. After Ruth told me about the podcast, I went home and listened to the first episode in my cabin.
It’s only thirty minutes long, so I played it twice.
It’s all about her experience seeing Bigfoot (me) and how her friends are going to set her up with as many men as possible before Stevie can find Bigfoot (me) in the woods again.
Not only did Stevie make me laugh, but she made me want to stand between her and anything that might want to harm her. And there are so many things that could hurt her. My jaw tightens just thinking about it.
The podcast made me sad because I like Stevie, and she is maybe—slightly—unhinged. I’m afraid she’s going to get hurt. So, I made a phone call and left it at that.
Did I go out last night because I hoped that I’d run into her on her date?
No. Yes.
I don’t know.
I do know that I hated the conversation between Stevie and her date. Chuck? Ugh. I heard way too much from him. But I loved hearing Stevie in action. It was like listening to her podcast in real time. So funny, so crazy, and her date was so, so undeserving of any of it.
Being a believer looks sexy on you, her sweet voice rings in my head.
“Adam?” Ruth squints at the screen. “Did I lose you?”
“I’m here,” I say as I reach the next trail camera.
“What did you think of the podcast?”
I pop open the camera casing, distracted. “I thought it was smart. Stevie is witty, and I appreciated the whole thing—except for the part where she is certifiably insane.”
Ruth gasps. “You like her.”
“Did I say that?”
“Not with words, brother.”
I grunt. “Did you miss the part where I said she’s a nutjob?”
I’m not watching the screen while I work, but there’s a giant shrug in my sister’s voice when she says, “Who cares? She’s fun. I wouldn’t mind having a sister-in-law with quirky hobbies.”
Strangely, I can see Ruth and Stevie getting along. Laughing at Thanksgiving dinner. Ganging up on me in a game of Monopoly. Family dinners. Vacations. The kids and me visiting their mom in the asylum. The fantasy life dissipates before my eyes like the morning fog.
Now I’m bummed out again. Why does such an interesting woman have to be nuts?
“I gotta go.” I frown at the next trail camera. “Working one handed is slowing me down.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She sighs.
I feel like a jerk. “You know I love you. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Fine.” She grins. “And you should ask Stevie out. Okay, bye!” she spits out, ending the call before I can protest.
I roll my eyes, shoving my phone into my back pocket.
I finish removing the SD card and slip it into my pocket with the others.
When I turn away from the camera, Stevie is on the trail behind me barely ten feet away.
I installed these things in inconspicuous spots away from the trail, and it’s obvious that she doesn’t see me.
I step into the open quietly, trying not to scare her.
She sucks in a deep gasp, spinning toward me and throwing her hands up into another imitation of The Karate Kid. When she sees that it’s me, she drops her hands with a long sigh.
But then she pounces. She reaches me in less than three steps, smacking my shoulder with no force behind it. “What are you doing sneaking around like that?”
I clear my throat. Do not laugh, Adam, I remind myself. Yes, she is adorable when she does karate, but she has more than a few screws loose. “Um, my job. Pulling memory cards from trail cameras.”
She shakes her head at herself. “I thought you were—”
“Butterballsy?” I have to clench my jaw to fight a smile over everything about this situation.
“Something like that.”
“What are you doing out here?” Alone, I don’t add.
Her devious grin says everything. She wags her eyebrows, moving ahead of me on the trail.
I’m not allowing myself to notice her long legs or the way her backside looks in those shorts.
I’m not looking. Averting my gaze, I’m only distracted by the rest of her retreating figure.
I wish she didn’t look like . . . all of that.
She’s as delicate and sweet as a Carrot Cake should be, but she’s all alone out here.
I hold back a growl. “Stevie.” I catch up quickly, walking beside her the wrong direction. There are still a few cameras I haven’t gotten to, but I can’t seem to let her walk away. I can’t command her not to hike by herself in the woods. She isn’t breaking any rules. I just wish—
“Nice shirt,” she says with a smirk, her messy red ponytail swinging behind her.
“Thanks.” I shake my head. “An infuriating woman gave it to me.”
“You’re welcome.” She makes a soft clicking sound with her tongue. “It’s good to see you fully dressed.” A lovely pink washes over her cheeks at the words. “I only mean, because usually—”
“I know, I know. I’m working on my Mowgli ways.”
She laughs, and the sound of it makes my stomach tighten. “It’s not that it bothers me—the no-shirt thing. You just look good in a T-shirt.”
I remind myself that she’s delusional. The blush on her cheeks is convincing me of things I don’t want to believe, though. Then her voice is in my head again: Being a believer looks sexy on you. Maybe I’m the one who’s lost my mind.
She lets me walk quietly beside her until we reach a break in the trees.
“Oh!” she says with a soft gasp, holding her hand over her heart.
Out of pure instinct, I step between her and whatever it is, but it’s just a grassy glade in the middle of the forest. “What? What is it?”
“The flowers.” She holds her hands in the praying position in front of her chest. “They’re so good this year.”
“The lupines?”
“Yeah.” She positions her phone horizontally, taking a few pictures. “I die over them every year, but this year Mother Nature is outdoing herself.”
I watch her photography session for a minute before I think of a way to help her understand. I get the sense that if I come right out and tell her she’s wrong for loving these invasive wildflowers, she’ll dig in her heels on principle. My plan might not work, but it’s worth a shot.
“Do you like monarch butterflies?” I ask.
She looks up from her phone, confused. “Of course.”
“Did you know that this species of lupine is invasive? It crowds out native plant species like milkweed, which are the only plant adult monarchs will lay their eggs on.”
Her frown deepens.
“It can form a dangerous monoculture that will totally mess with an ecosystem. They disrupt pollination, alter soil acidity—so many things. It’s sorta crazy how much damage they can do.”
Her frown turns into a full, disappointed scowl. She doesn’t like being wrong. “But they’re so beautiful.”
“I know.”
I know it all too well.
And sometimes beautiful things aren’t good for us.