I keep a firm grip on my rifle. “They don’t eat people. They rarely even kill people. But you’ve pissed them off for some strange reason.” I glance at the bears and then back at her. “Try to see it from their point of view. You’re their worst enemy. Coming into their territory like you own the place and turning everything upside down by wandering within a few yards of their winter den. They’re just trying to protect what’s theirs.”
She waves her hand in front of my face. “Can you just tell them I’m sorry in bear language or whatever? If I could vanish back to my cabin, I would. And I’ll never snowshoe this way again. I promise. But I’d feel much safer if you would at least aim that gun…”
“I’m afraid that would be useless. It’s not a gun for killing it’s a gun for tranquilizing. No bullets. And that would be a lousy choice anyway because by the time I tranq’d the first one, the second one would be on me, teaching me a lesson about being an asshole. The sedative would put them out for several hours, making them prey to injury or worse. So just calm the hell down and take some deep breaths or something. They aren’t doing anything but shooting their mouths off anyway. They’re entitled to let you know how badly you screwed up.”
She gives me an exaggerated eye roll. “So I screwed up big, huh? Nothing new there. Story of my life.”
“Excuse me?” I say, wondering what the hell she’s talking about in the middle of a crisis.
Now she looks like she might cry, that full lower lip trembling. I long to soothe it with my thumb. “Nothing. Can’t you stop them from growling or something?”
I’ll do anything to keep the tears at bay. “I know you’re scared, but you’re doing great. Most people would have cried by now, but not you. Good girl, Angel. We’re gonna keep talking, okay? And while we’re talking, I want you to unlace those snowshoes slow and steady and see if you can step out of them. Just forget the bears. Look at me and don’t break eye contact.”
Despite my words, she still looks like she might totally lose it and fall into a shaking puddle in the snow. But she follows orders and doesn’t look away. And she manages to slowly and clumsily step out of her snowshoes. Even though fear laces her voice, I still notice the underlying throaty tones. I wonder how it would sound if my name fell from her lips. God, why am I thinking about that right now? We have a situation here and I have to handle it.
The bears growl and paw the snow, but I’m as cool as a spring breeze. The front of my jeans and parka are hard packed with snow. My hood is thrown back and I know my brown hair is pelted with dry leaves. But I unzip my parka in the frigid weather as I slowly pace toward her.
She seemed to have trusted me at Cool Beans, so I hope she knows I’m only trying to help her. “What I want you to do,” I say in a voice barely above a whisper, “is put on my coat.”
Her eyes widen into moons. “You want me to put on your coat?”
“And my scarf and gloves.”
“And your scarf and gloves,” she repeats.
I shoot her a serious look. “Because they know my scent.”
“How on earth do they know your scent? They’re wild bears.”
My lips tug upward. “Let’s start over. I’m Knight. Knight Evermore. I guess I just assumed you knew me, or at least had heard of me. My being around has made the gossip rounds in town.”
She shakes her head, and that thick head of platinum hair catches the sunlight. “I’m new in Sweetheart Hills. And not exactly anyone’s shoulder to cry on. I have no idea who you are and why you’re some kind of new age Grizzly Adams.”
I nod. “Okay, so you didn’t know… and now you do. These bears are my responsibility. I’m a wildlife ecologist and the chairman of the Northern Woods Conservation Society. I study and work with all the northern Minnesota wildlife, which includes the black bear. It would be my fault if either you or these animals got hurt.” I give her a moment to take that in, then calmly continue by saying, “The reason I want you to put on my parka is that it has my scent. They know me. In fact, I’ve known this female bear, Hilda, since she was an orphaned cub. It’s dangerous to trust any wild animal, but black bears don’t want to kill humans. In fact, they’ve only killed sixty-one people in North America since 1900 and in most of those cases, they were provoked.”
“Really?” After the question, she tugs her lower lip between her teeth. Dammit. She really has to stop looking so soft and vulnerable because it’s playing to something deep inside me. I’ve obviously been alone too long out in these remote woods. “My name is Angelica Amor by the way. Angelica, not Angel.”
By the time she formally introduces herself, I reach her. I’m so tall she has to look up to meet my gaze. She looks like an angel to me. My angel. “How are you doing, Angel?”
Her cheeks pale. “I feel like I’m going to puke.”
“Nah. You’re staying very calm and together. I knew you would. When I saw you inside Cool Beans, I knew you wouldn’t lose it in a crisis. You’re great at multi-tasking and handling difficult challenges. Now, don’t look at the bears, just keep looking at me. But it would also help if you loosened your death grip on your poles.”
She glances down. Her fists are glued to her poles until I start peeling her palms loose. Once I accomplish that, they drop into the snow. Then with the tranquilizer gun anchored between my knees, I slowly lift her arms into my coat. The size of my Carhartt is big enough to fit over hers but stuffing her into the second coat is an unwieldy process. Not that I got any help from her. She seems to be stiffened into a mannequin of terror.
A little shiver rifles through her despite the two coats bundled around her. My heart wants to pull her close and soothe her, but my head tells me that’s not wise until the danger has passed. Even though the danger is far less than what she probably imagines. I wasn’t lying about what I told her. Black bears are the most docile of all bears and they really don’t want to hurt humans unless they absolutely have to. But that’s hard to stomach when lippy Hilda stands way too close to you and growls that terrifying growl.
When I wrap my scarf around her neck, my wrist brushes her cheek. A jolt of electricity rockets through me at that first skin on skin touch. She peeks around me to see where the bears are located and our shadows dance in the pale afternoon sun.
The next time she glances into my face I’m vaguely aware of my unkempt hair and rough, straggly beard growth. I keep my touch gentle because I know I look much like the Grizzly Adams type character she accused me of being. But out here, there’s no one to shave or comb my hair for.
I zip the jacket straight to her chin, my eyes meeting hers. Her lower lip quivers. “They stopped growling.”
“Yup.”
She peeks around me again. “They walked away. I don’t even see them anymore. Do you think they went back to their den for a long winter’s nap?”
“It’s only been winter for a few weeks. But the fact that they’ve left leaves me in a sticky situation.”
I glance at her again, still feeling that curling sensation tightening my body, especially below the belt. Despite losing my parka, my whole body is warmer than a toasty fire on a cold Sunday evening.