by Devon McKay
“Okay, I get it, Wolf,” she sneered. “Nice try. What’s next? A moose stampede. Or how about a herd of caribou?” Sam readjusted her stance to balance her weight. Wincing, she tried to hide the pain the movement caused and folded her arms across her chest. The man had a lot of nerve. If he didn’t want anything to do with her, why did he kiss her in the first place?
Blake cast a wary glance over his shoulder before returning his gaze into the tall grass. “I’m not kidding. I wouldn’t joke about something this serious.”
The crackle of a branch breaking not more than twenty feet away made Sam nearly jumped out of her skin. Her pulse spiked, and she grabbed a hold of him, quickly reconsidering her doubts.
“Believe me now?” he questioned, sparing her a stern glance.
Speechless, she bobbed her head.
“It doesn’t make sense. Usually a bear will avoid any human contact. Unless he’s curious. Or hungry.” He glanced down at the tote they’d brought.
Sam followed his gaze as guilt pooled in her stomach, twisting her insides. This was her fault. The culprit, her ankle, painfully reminded her she was to blame. If it hadn’t been for her clumsiness would Blake have set up in this spot? She raised her head and cast a weary glance about their surroundings. Probably not.
“We are downwind. It’s likely he didn’t smell us yet, but we don’t want to surprise him either,” Blake said with a grimace. “Hey, bear. Whoa, bear,” he shouted into the brush as if to scare the animal off.
With a cautious movement, he bent down and slowly pulled out a canister of bear spray from the rucksack. He handed it to her and then opened one of the bagged lunches. Zipping up the duffle bag halfway, he threw the blanket on top of it. Sam watched in silence, assuming there was a method to his madness. Perhaps, it was done in hopes of delaying the scent of food?
“I want you to appear tall, got it?” He returned his focus on her. “Stand on your tiptoes if you have to and don’t back down. I know you’re scared, but don’t show it. Whatever you do…don’t run. And depending on the type of bear, you might have to fight back. The spray may help. Don’t be afraid to use it.”
A rustling off to her right garnished her attention. Terrified, she nodded her head.
“If it’s a black bear you can fight it off. If it’s a brown bear, a grizzly…play dead.”
She nodded again as fear spread through her limbs, gripping her insides.
“That’s if this .44 Magnum can’t hold it back. There’s a good chance it heard us, and we scared it away. Hopefully, it’s headed in the opposite direction.”
Another branch folded in the grassy foliage. This time closer.
“No such luck,” he said under his breath, glancing toward the direction of the noise. “Okay, I want you to back up slowly.” He raised his voice, calm and steady, as the sound bellowed across the grassy field.
“Slow. Good, Sam. You’re doing great.”
A section of the meadow swayed and Sam held back the scream lodged in her throat.
Hunted.
Her heart hammered in her ears. This was how she was going to die, torn to shreds by a hungry bear. An image of the claw Blake wore around his neck came to life and was quickly replaced by the stuffed grizzly from the airport.
“Hopefully, the bear goes for the food,” Blake said.
Sam nodded, unable to pull her gaze away from the thick wall of grass. Not focused on where she was stepping, she stumbled on the uneven tundra. With quick reflexes, Blake grasped onto her arm holding her upright. Once her balance was righted, they climbed backwards up to higher ground. Each agonizing step reminded her of how foolishly ungraceful she was.
Once at the top of the hill, they raced back to the four-wheeler, and Blake retrieved a pair of binoculars out of the hard case on the front rack. He exhaled a loud breath of relief.
“The bear took the bait. It appears to be a young, grizzly male. Probably only a couple of years old.”
Sam grabbed for the binoculars. With a reluctant sigh, he handed them over, pointing in the direction of the animal. She peered through the glass, not really sure she wanted to see. Her trembling hands made the landscape shaky, but she dialed in on a large, brown mass and focused.
Stunned, she dropped the binoculars. Unable to speak, Sam took a step toward the four wheeler and faltered, suddenly feeling faint. Muscular arms caught her, and she surrendered into Blake’s hold.
He tightened his grasp. “We have to go. The bear is distracted for now. But I’m not sure for how long. Are you all right?”
She lifted her chin and met his gaze. Floored by the genuine concern in the hazel depths, an odd awareness spiked through her. He’d protected her without a second thought to his own safety. He saved her life. The notion, though somewhat unsettling, was also comforting.
“Lord, Sam, I should’ve never put you in that position. You could’ve…”
She silenced him by placing an index finger on his lips. “I’m fine.” Standing on the tips of her toes on her good foot, she reassured him with a chaste kiss, even though her insides shook like gelatin.
Blake stared at her for a full minute before replying. “Yeah.” He spared a final glance down the hill. Shaking his head, he grasped her hand and helped Sam mount the machine. “We’d better go. I’ll get you home so we can take care of your ankle.”
Neither of them spoke on the trail back to the truck. Praying the constant rumble of the four wheeler would keep all predators at bay, Sam kept a keen eye on the landscape, searching for any movement in their surroundings while clenching her teeth against the throbbing pain in her ankle matching the vibration of the machine.
Once they got to his vehicle, she accepted his help and limped to the truck. As he loaded the ATV, she locked the door and scanned the scenery one last time. Silly idea. She smirked. If only a door lock could stop a determined bear.
The entire ride back to the cabin, she was engrossed with the way Blake had shielded her with his body. She stole a sideways glance at him. No one had ever cared enough about her well-being to do something so heroic. And she had no idea how she felt about it.
No doubt it was just part of his job, she justified. However, it had seemed like more…
A flurry of emotions jolted her senses. Confusion being the first. Did Blake actually care about her?
She couldn’t deny there was something between them, and Sam couldn’t help but think it was more than just a mutual attraction. Especially if she considered the way his kisses shook her to the core.
The foreign thoughts occupied her mind during the long drive, until they pulled into the driveway of her cabin.
Blake stopped the truck and shifted the gear on the steering column into park. He got out and was at the passenger’s side in an instant. He attempted to open the door at the same time Sam realized it was still locked.
Embarrassed, she fumbled for the switch. “Sorry. I know the lock wouldn’t have stopped a bear, but it did make me feel safer.”
He responded with an endearing grin, and her heart skipped a beat before quickening unexpectedly. She exhaled a loud sigh. She was in over her head. All the man had to do was smile, and she melted like butter.
Blake leaned in and cupped her chin with a tender grip. Lightly, he brushed his lips over hers. Despite the gentleness of the kiss, she yearned for more as he pulled away and reached across her lap to release the seat belt. Without a word, he scooped her up in his brawny arms and lifted her out of the truck.
She entwined her arms around his neck and breathed in his heady scent as he carried her to the cabin. Sam reached out once they got to the door and pushed it open.
Being a damsel in distress certainly had an appeal.
Blake gently laid her on the bed. He propped up her leg with a soft pillow, and with nimble fingers, untied the laces of her boots. Delicately, he tugged free the footwear and tossed both boots onto the hardwood floor. As if she were made of glass, he removed the sock from her throbbing ankle and examined the i
njury.
“Can you move it?”
She nodded. “I think so.” Able to point her toes, she cautiously flexed her heel and then rolled her ankle to the side. Pain shot up her leg, and she released a loud gasp.
“Don’t overdo it. I’ve seen enough.” The warmth of his hands returned, and he cradled her foot before laying it gently onto the pillow again. He removed the extra quilt draped over the footboard and covered her with the blanket.
“So, what’s the verdict, doc? Am I going to make it?”
“Yeah. I think you are going to be just fine,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m not even close to being a doctor, but I did have to take first aid classes for my job. I’m pretty sure it’s just a sprain, so it needs to be wrapped up. I have an ace bandage in the first aid kit I carry in the truck. I’ll be right back.”
He headed out the door, and Sam thumped her head back on the headboard. Clumsy oaf, she berated herself. Flipping the blanket off, she peeked at the injury and immediately her mood soured. Her ankle was definitely swollen. Great. The timing couldn’t be worse. Now, she’d probably be laid up in bed for the rest of the afternoon. Hopefully not longer.
Before she had time to dwell on her situation, Blake returned with a tan, rolled up bandage and a bottle of ibuprofen. He handed her the pain reliever and sat on the edge of the bed before grasping her foot with a firm, but gentle grip. Tautly, he wrapped the stretchy gauze around her ankle. When finished, he turned his attention to the woodstove and threw a couple of logs in before filling the teapot with water and placing it on the top to heat. He then rummaged through the cabinets, and retrieved a box of tea. He tossed it on the counter.
“I hope you have some food in here, too.”
“Yeah. Chili,” Sam replied and pointed to the farthest cupboard. She opened the bottle and popped two of the ibuprofen into her mouth, swallowing the pills without water.
He pulled out a can and a frying pan. Apparently searching for something to open the container with, he soon found an opener in a drawer and pried off the top. Pouring the contents into the skillet, he then placed it on the woodstove to simmer.
“Wow, you sure know how to show a girl a good time,” she said sarcastically.
He displayed a lop-sided grin. “I certainly do.”
Being stuck in bed wasn’t setting well. “So, is this the plan?” she asked surly, not amused. She glanced at the closet where she’d placed her computer earlier. Maybe she could get some work done?
Or continue what they’d started?
The thought burned brightly for a minute, but she blinked it away. She glanced down at her foot. No. Fun and games were exactly how she ended up here…bedridden with a throbbing ankle injury. Not quite the good time she’d been looking for. Might as well focus on the advertisement.
Scooting to the edge of the bed, she placed her good leg onto the floor.
“Whoa. What are you doing?”
“I’m getting up. What does it look like?” she retorted smartly. She couldn’t just lie around and do nothing.
“Oh, no you aren’t.” Blake rushed to her side. He pushed her back with a stern hand on her shoulder. Lifting her leg, he placed it back on the mattress. “You are staying in bed. At least for the rest of the afternoon. Doctor’s orders.”
Sam scoured him with the nastiest scowl she could muster. “Fine. I need you to get my laptop then,” she demanded, pointing toward the closet.
He walked over, opened the door, and withdrew her black bag. “Is it in this?”
She nodded curtly as a sudden wave of irritation prickled underneath her skin. “You don’t have to do all this. Cooking me dinner and all. I’m not used to being waited on.”
“I kind of figured that much by the way you’re acting.” He brought the case to her and laid it on the bed. “And just so you know, I don’t mind.”
“Well, I do. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Wow. Are you sick of my company? Or just a really bad patient? Usually I’m the grump,” Blake teased and then headed across the room to the kitchenette.
He opened a few drawers, found a spoon, stirred the chili, and then set the utensil aside to search the cupboards again. Pulling out a large, green mug and matching bowl, he filled the crock with chili and the cup with hot water from the kettle before tossing in a tea bag. He walked back to the bed and placed both on the night stand.
Why? Why was he taking care of her?
“Apparently, I’m really bad at this,” Sam confessed, suddenly feeling quite guilty. She reached out and grabbed his hand. “Thank you for taking care of me. I…ah…I’m just not used to it.”
“Yeah, you mentioned that.” He smiled and squeezed her fingers gently. “Do you think you’ll need anything else?”
She replied with a quick shake of her head.
“Good then. Now, I want you to try and stay off your leg. I mean it, Sam. At least for tonight.”
“And you mentioned that. It’s not like I can go too far anyway,” she smirked and pointed down at her ankle. “I’ll be fine.”
Blake nodded and walked to the door. He paused at the exit and spared one last glance in her direction before leaving.
Sam waited until she heard the motor of his truck start before she attempted to get out of bed. Hopping to the window, she braced her weight on the window ledge and watched until the taillights of his truck faded away.
She spared a glance toward the bed, and her gaze was drawn to the steaming bowl of chili. Limping, she made her way back and sat on the edge of the mattress. Grasping the crock with one hand, she stirred the hot meal and tried to decipher her feelings.
Not only had the man risked his life for her, he had cared enough to make her dinner.
Chapter 16
“This is not the way to handle a bear,” Denali sternly voiced his opinion. His face, normally void of any emotion, was contorted in a disapproving sneer.
Blake nodded his head in silent agreement before glancing away and engrossing himself in the chore of picking up the scattered pieces of what had once been his black duffle bag. At least he’d known well enough to get Sam back to her cabin with firm instructions to keep her ankle up before meeting Denali here.
And thank God he did. This was a sight he never wanted her to see. The bear had managed to rip the thick nylon to shreds. There was little more than thin strips left. He held a piece of tattered fabric in the air. This is what the bear would’ve done to Sam if given the chance.
And it would’ve been his fault.
Guilt punched him in the stomach, punishing him far worse than any disparaging glance or scorching remark from his oldest friend.
He stole an apprehensive glance in Denali’s direction. Bent down over a print, the man’s expression was difficult to read. However, whenever his friend was this quiet, there was a storm brewing. With the angst of tourist season approaching, and the gossip he had heard about Sam and her job by now, the man was aching for a fight.
Blake sighed out loud. Of course, Denali would be on the mark. He was right—distracting the animal with food had not been the right way to handle a bear. Then again, what choice did he have? Because of Sam’s injury, he knew it was more than likely the only chance they had at survival.
Besides, he hadn’t wanted to be put in a position to kill the creature unless he was forced to. Especially when the bear was only doing what came naturally. They had been the intruders.
Denali moved to the edge of the clearing where a pile of bear scat lay. He kneeled again, analyzing the deposit for several minutes before he spoke.
“How come you didn’t sense the toklat sooner?” He picked up a handful and rolled the dark mass in his fingertips to determine how fresh the droppings were. “You, my friend, are losing your touch. You are distracted.” Denali dumped the scat back on the ground and then wiped his hands clean on a patch of grass. “How close did he come before you picked up his scent?” he asked, without glancing up.
Blake was aware Denali already
knew the answer. There was no denying the facts…the prints indented in the ground told the story.
He attempted to make light of the subject hoping to avoid a quarrel. “The grizzly bear?” he responded, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “I’d say a good twenty feet.”
Denali nodded his head, but said nothing more. Nimbly, he rose to his feet. “And the cheechako?”
Blake didn’t answer, wincing at the slang. Sam was considered a tenderfoot. A greenhorn. She knew little of the Alaskan ways.
His friend nodded his head again. “How close is she?” Bitterly, he’d spat the words.
Blake raised his head, locking stares with the man’s spite-filled gaze. “Closer than twenty feet,” he replied, bracing himself for impact.
Denali had a warrior’s spirit, rarely fought with words. True to nature, his friend’s lean, sinewy frame crashed into him, knocking him easily to the ground.
The two of them wrestled as he tried to position himself on top. Denali was quick, with an uncanny ability to easily escape from most restraints. Blake knew through experience the only way to get the upper hand was to use his weight and pin his friend underneath him. Hopefully, avoiding a black eye or a swollen jaw from a lucky punch in the process.
It wasn’t an easy feat considering the man’s quick reflexes. After several attempts, Blake was able to pin him down. But knew it wouldn’t be for long.
“You give?” he panted, catching his breath.
Denali responded by trying to off-balance his weight.
He held his ground, thankful for the twenty or so pounds he held over the seasoned warrior. Finally, Denali quit struggling, long enough to spear him with an angry, coal black stare. The man would never give up, but the fact he no longer resisted was enough for now.
“Good. I’m going to let you go now, okay?”
His friend nodded, face inflamed a bright red. “I did not expect this kind of disloyalty from you,” he seethed through clenched teeth as he sat up to a sitting position and folded his arms over his chest.
