by Zoe Wildau
Wanting to believe him, but needing to be certain, she turned her face to Jake’s ear and asked softly, “You’re sure?”
Jake just nodded, wrapped his other arm around her, pulled her close, tucking her head into his shoulder and shut his eyes, leaving her no choice but to rest her head on his shoulder and lay her arm across his chest. She listened in silence to the sounds around their tent and eventually could make out two, maybe three, hooved beasts inspecting the ground and the tent itself.
When their curiosity was satisfied, they clomped toward the lake. She became more conscious of Jake’s embrace and shifted to move away. His arms didn’t give an inch and she felt a low growl of protest rise up from his chest.
Their bodies had warmed the tent, but it was still cold in comparison to the heat where her chest met his. Lilly laid her cheek back down and melted into him. Jake’s arm tightened around her and she felt her face flush. Oh jeez, and not just her face. She squelched an urge to wrap her leg around his body. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt such a sweet ache of desire. Maybe she could just lie there, enjoy it for a while until Jake went to sleep and then roll away. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I’ve got to work with this man and he can sometimes be quite nasty.
After five minutes, the sweet ache had become an inferno, and she was sure that Jake could feel her racing heart. She’d never sleep like this; she had to get away.
Thinking fast, but not brilliantly, she said, “Do you think it’s safe to pee? I’ve really got to go,” and pushed off his chest. He had no choice but to let her go. She scrambled over him, quick not to straddle him too long, unzipped the tent and practically hopped into her boots. She turned to re-zip the tent, but Jake waved her off, saying, “Leave it open, and don’t go far.”
Her cheeks flaming, she grabbed the little baggie of biodegradable TP and hand sanitizer out of her pack and headed for the backside of the tent. Trying to go when she knew he could hear her every movement made things difficult. Finally, she shut her eyes tight and repeated nursery rhymes until she shut him out. Finished and wishing she could just sleep outside, she tightened her jaw and headed back in the tent, slipping her boots off in the vestibule.
Lilly made a determined show of sliding her sleeping bag and pad back to its original spot before the nighttime invasion. Jake, on his back with his eyes shut, didn’t move or say anything as she bent down and carefully stepped over him, trying not to either straddle him again or lose her balance in the awkward position. She made it without incident and, kneeling on her sleeping bag, leaned over Jake to zip the tent back up.
When she looked down at him, he was staring at her so intensely that a shock of desire whipped through her, leaving her in worse condition than before. She quickly zipped up the last ten inches and shot back to her side of the tent. She shoved her feet, legs and torso into her bag and turned quickly away before he could make any move to bring their bodies back together. Using her nursery rhyme technique, she tried again to block him out. Jake hadn’t moved, and all she heard was soft breathing that didn’t sound like sleep. On the third round of “The Lady in the Shoe,” she finally started to feel the familiar confusion that preceded sleep and nearly cried with relief.
Chapter 14
It was light when Lilly next opened her eyes. Jake was not in the tent. She unzipped to a bracing chill that was refreshing and clean and saw Jake sitting by the WhisperLite, the pot full of water and ready to boil. He’d also hiked over and brought back the food bag they’d tied up the night before. He pulled out two plastic thermo cups and two tea bags. Without looking at her, he poured the boiling water into the cups, dropped in the tea bags and handed one to her. When he did look at her, he suddenly guffawed, almost dousing her with the hot liquid.
“What’s so funny?” Lilly glared at him, knowing exactly what she looked like in the morning.
For unexplained reasons, every night the hair on the top of her head tried to make a break for it. With a mind of its own, it stood on end, tethered only at the scalp. She was well aware that she looked like a comic Disney character when she awoke, and frankly Jake’s reaction was neither unique nor welcome.
Taking her tea without thanks, she stomped over to the other pot of fresh water, splashed her face and wet down her hair, even though she felt like icicles were forming on the tops of her ears.
Not usually a grumpy morning person, she turned swiftly and shook her head like a dog, splattering cold water everywhere, including all over Jake.
“I didn’t say anything!” he protested.
“Yeah, but you laughed. I know what my hair does in the night, and I can’t control it! It’s crazy.”
“Crazy Hair Pixie. Too bad you made me turn off my phone when you were being Big Bad Pixie. My sister Jennis appreciates the photo texts.”
“You sent your sister my picture last night?”
“Yep.”
“So, you weren’t working when I threatened your phone with a watery death?”
Jake looked at her, considering. “Yes, I was working,” he finally admitted. “We’re opening a new club in Soho this week. Between her connections to the music industry and my pro-football equity interest, we think the club will draw the kind of clientele that is likely to make it a huge success.”
“Not to mention your Hollywood connection,” she said, as if he had forgotten.
“Well, there’s that, too.” He smiled wryly back at her.
After a breakfast of dried fruit and instant oatmeal, Lilly and Jake worked quietly together to put away the packs and load up for the next trek. Whatever the weird moods of the previous day and night, they seemed to have finally fallen into a groove. Jake had actually said more than three non-business related words to her, and she was feeling like maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.
As she wadded up the ground sheet and squished it into a tight ball, Jake knelt beside her and pointed to the ground next to where the tent had been. A clear imprint of a large cloven hoof could be seen in the soft, sandy soil.
“A large deer, I think,” said Jake. “A moose or elk print would be much larger, a mountain goat considerably smaller.”
As they headed out past the north end of the lake, they passed the honeymooning couple. Jake and Lilly stopped for a minute to chat, and Jake told them about their “bear” scare the night before.
“I told you,” said Matt, “same thing happened on our first night out here. Would have put the kibosh on the honeymoon if we hadn’t turned in so early – ow!” His new bride pinched him hard in the side.
“Don’t embarrass me,” she said.
“They don’t care – we’re legal!”
The sex banter made Lilly uncomfortable, bringing to mind her own fiery feelings last night, but she smiled at their obvious happiness together and their excitement at swapping bear-scare stories with a big Hollywood star.
“It’s been a great trip, but now we’re looking forward to getting back to civilization. Thanks so much for the invitation to Vibe’s opening, Jake,” said Matt.
Jake nodded, “Just give your names to the front doorman. They know you’re coming. Have fun.” Jake must have texted Jennis the couple’s names last night. That was thoughtful.
“Happy trails,” Matt said as they headed back up the trail.
After about twenty minutes, Lilly could feel her mind finally falling into the Thoreau mood she’d been hoping for when she planned this trip. Taking deep breaths and as long of strides as her short legs would allow, she let her mind go blank and just enjoyed the beauty of the Rockies. Jake was always quiet, so she wasn’t sure if his mood echoed hers or not, but she decided not to think about it and just focus on not focusing.
Her trail plan had them hitting the farthest point in the circle at midmorning. There was supposed to be a spectacular view of the Alaska basin on the west slopes of the Teton Range that can’t be seen from any road – you had to hike to get there.
It was more beautiful than she’d imagined. Lar
ge raw granite boulders in an array of colors – slate, rust, blue-veined – were scattered about the valley like some giant’s discarded game of marbles. She pulled out her camera and made Jake take her picture sitting on the overlook with the valley in the background a half dozen times. She photographed terribly, but she hoped she’d get one that would make a good screen saver.
Stepping off the rock, she looked askance at Jake. He was photographed so often, she wasn’t sure if he’d like one of himself, but she asked anyway, and to her surprise he agreed. She took six shots of him too, all of which were striking, of course. When he stepped away from the ledge, she motioned him over to show him. As he towered next to her, she could smell the sweat and mountains on him, and it was wonderful.
“Do we have time to sit here a few minutes?” asked Jake.
“Yes, of course, if you’d like.”
They peeled off their layers and strapped their outerwear to their packs, both wearing only an over shirt and undershirt. The two sat down on the rock, and Jake asked to look at her camera. Sliding closer to her, he held the camera out with his long arms and angled it to get a picture of both their faces and the basin in the background. Lilly’s eyes were closed in the first one and in the second one she was looking away.
Jake snorted and said, “I have no idea why you think you can’t take a picture.” She grinned at him and he snapped another picture.
“Can you send me that one? It’s nice to see you smiling at me.”
Flustered, she stowed her camera while Jake sat and simply seemed to soak in the beauty. She thought about asking how often he got to take a real break, but that would just bring up work, and she didn’t want to break the mood. Lilly looked at him and finally said, “It’s nice to see you so…” unguarded? friendly?… “relaxed,” she finally got out.
When he looked at her, his bland expression was back. Not the relaxed one of a moment ago. This was the expression that made her feel like an ant about to be stepped on by an uncaring pedestrian. If he had been someone else, she would have asked what the hell was going on behind the facade. She assumed it made other people feel like she did, which wasn’t pleasant. She pushed off the rock and shouldered her pack again.
“Two miles to lunch,” she said and, without waiting for him, started down the trail.
With the ranger’s help, she’d found a beautiful spot on Teton Creek with a fifteen-foot waterfall where they could stop for lunch. After lunch, they’d hike four miles to that night’s campsite, then have a short downhill hike the next day to meet Wil by midmorning.
The sound of the falling water and smell of the mossy banks and pines filled her head as they approached Teton Creek. Both dropped their packs on the trail and walked down a short slope to stand on the bank of the pool at the bottom of the waterfall.
If it were warmer, the pool would feel like heaven. Although they were warmed from the hike, the ambient temperature was only fifty-five degrees, and the glacier-fed creek water was probably more like forty. It was incredibly beautiful.
After gazing her fill at the waterfall, she sat on a rock and pulled out a couple more apples, handing one to Jake, and two mini-tubs of peanut butter with crackers.
They drained the rest of the water, which they would have to refill after they ate with filtered water from the creek.
It turned out that Jake’s silent character was conducive to peace and relaxation, maybe better than her intended hike mate, Mike, who talked incessantly about anything and everyone. Even when he wasn’t talking, he hummed and whistled.
Lilly ate her crackers dry, then bit a large chunk out of her apple and used it to scoop the peanut butter out of its container. When she couldn’t get the peanut butter out of the corners with the apple, she used her finger. Happily sucking the last of the yummy nuttiness off of her index finger, she looked up to see Jake frowning at her.
He already thinks I’m a pig, she thought. He’s as much as said so. Well, if so, then let him think it. She slowly pulled her finger out of her mouth, daring him to say anything.
Jake looked away swiftly, and without a word, he pushed off the rock on which he was sitting and walked off. He stomped along the creek for a bit and then cut into the woods, she assumed to relieve himself.
Snickering, she hopped off her own rock, collected their trash and walked up the short hill to the packs to grab the water filtration system.
Lilly was squatting by the pool putting away the tubing for the water filter having replenished their water supply, when she heard Jake rustling nearby.
Standing, she turned to carry the full water bottles up to the trail and stopped cold. Not Jake. A mass of brown fur blocked her way back to the trail. It took a moment for her to register the characteristic hump of an adult grizzly bear.
The bear was fifteen feet away, sniffing the air in her direction. Her blood seemed to rush to her head and her heart at once, causing her hands to go numb, and she lost her grip on the wide, round Nalgene bottles, which dropped to her feet, one of them rolling away into the creek pool with a splash. The bear responded to the movement and noise by hop-stomping on its front paws and swinging its jowly maw, flinging long strings of saliva into the air. It was a sign of agitation, a possible prelude to aggression.
Her entire body wanted to run, but her brain yelled at her to stand her ground. Running was not an option. This close, running would trigger the bear’s chase reflex. An adult grizzly could easily run thirty miles per hour.
When you’re face to face with a grizzly that shows no sign of moving off, “look big,” all the guides said. Hold your pack up, raise your arms, stand tall. Stand your ground, talk softly, but don’t look the bear directly in the eye.
For the ten thousandth time in her short life, Lilly wished she was bigger.
Clearing her throat, she raised her shaking arms, and practically whispered, “Hey bear, hey bear.” Trying to look anywhere but at the bear’s face, she looked at its paws, immediately wishing she hadn’t. His claws were bigger than her fingers. She watched the claws scrape the ground as the bear advanced, huffing and swinging his head from side to side.
Then the bear bluff charged her. Lilly screamed, all the fright in her little body echoing back to her off the mountains as the bear bounded forward before stopping five paces from her. Huffing and chuffing, the bear backed up, preparing to charge again.
She screamed again when a hand came down hard on her shoulder, shoving her backward away from the bear. She stumbled and stepped on the remaining Nalgene bottle, twisting her ankle painfully and falling to her knees.
Jake stepped in front of her, between her and the bear, waving his arms high in the air and speaking firmly, “Whoa bear! Whoa bear!” She scrambled to get back up, desperately trying to get a purchase on the slippery wet rocks beside the creek. Her hand landed in a pile of splintered rock and she threw a fistful of the rocks around Jake, at the bear.
The bear bluff charged Jake, too, and then did it again. Both times the bear stopped three feet in front of Jake, then backed away swinging his head and popping his jaw. Jake never flinched. On the third charge, the bear feinted to the right intending to get around the big man at Lilly.
Jake registered the shift in muscle mass, and before the bear could get in position to lunge at her, Jake side-stepped in unison. Facing off with the bear, his arms outstretched, Jake bellowed so loudly that Lilly instinctively cowered, then covered her ears as the bear bellowed back, their combined roars reverberating around them.
The change in circumstance finally registered with the bear. The big man was not so easy pickings. The grizzly huffed once more, and then turned and left.
When he was sure the bear had moved off, Jake knelt next to Lilly, whose face had gone alarmingly white. “Are you hurt?” he asked.
“Yes—no—I mean—I think I’ve twisted my ankle,” she admitted miserably.
“Can you walk?” he asked.
“Yes, I think so,” she said, although her adrenaline was pumping so fa
st, she couldn’t tell how bad it was.
She stood and gingerly placed weight on her injured ankle, and grimaced. It throbbed, but at least it wasn’t a shooting pain. Jake frowned down at her, but she shook him off.
“I’m okay. We should get out of here. Let me just tighten my boots.”
Short of carrying her out, there wasn’t much to be done but let her walk. He couldn’t leave her with the grizzly and go get help—she might be in shredded pieces when he got back.
“Let’s take a look first.” Jake knelt down and started unlacing her boot.
“Hey, I can do that.”
“Then do it. While you’re at it, take your sock off and submerge your ankle in the water and leave it there for as long as you can stand the cold.”
Lilly, seeing the wisdom of stopping the swelling, did as she was told. Jake looked around for the bear before leaving her long enough to walk the twenty feet to their packs. Immediately returning to her side, he unpacked everything. She watched as he redistributed the weight, leaving her with only the sleeping bags and a few dry goods.
Jake put everything heavy in his pack. Lilly protested, but Jake simply stonewalled her.
After five minutes in the icy water, she couldn’t feel her foot at all. She pulled it out of the creek and examined it. Other than the redness caused by the cold, she couldn’t see a problem, unless she counted the silly neon pink pedicure she and Anna had done together before leaving LA.
“Well, I can’t feel my foot to be certain, but I’m pretty sure it’s not broken.” She tried for a humorous tone, but she was still feeling quite shaken.
Jake’s stormy look had evaporated while working on packing. He looked up and smiled at her. When he did, she felt her lips tremble and tears come to her eyes. For that moment in time, when the bear was right there squaring off with Jake, her always overactive imagination had taken over, and all she could see was them both being ripped apart. That she’d gotten off with a twisted ankle, albeit in the middle of nowhere, seemed too lucky.
