To Love a Bear

by Emilia Hartley

  Boomer nodded, taking it for her and slinging it over his own shoulder.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Emmy argued, even if she was grateful for the help. She didn’t want to be a burden on Boomer, or any of the other men. They’d all been nice to her. No one had to help her, but they’d stopped their work to make sure she was okay. “You have to take time off from work because of me. Don’t you? You don’t have to drive me to your house. You could just point me in the direction and I’ll find my own way.”

  Boomer’s grin stopped her heart. “And let you fall into another ditch by yourself? I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  She bit her lip. Not because she felt bad, but because of the effect he had on her. She knew she shouldn’t trust him, but he’d managed to slip past all her barriers. It could have been her foggy mind or her aching body that allowed her to like Boomer the way she did. Emmy knew it wasn’t smart, but she couldn’t stop.

  Without a word of warning, he scooped her into his arms. She let out a small shriek, one that died in her throat almost instantly. His muscled arms should have been uncomfortable. They should have dug into her ribs and bruised her already aching thighs, but she wanted to snuggle into him. He smelled like fresh cut wood and smoke.

  “Besides, you’re my responsibility now. I’ve got to take care of you.”

  “What does that mean?” Emmy watched something in his eyes change. They shifted, the dark colors dancing between chocolate and gold as he looked at her.

  “It means that I’m in trouble.”

  Chapter Two

  Emmy didn’t know what she’d expected. What they pulled up next to certainly was none of those things. The cabin was squat and long, almost like a trailer covered with planks of bright cedar wood. A covered porch graced the front, sunburst designs on either side of the swinging, screen door.

  She looked for signs of another woman, a wife or girlfriend. There was no second car, no feminine touches. From the outside, it didn’t even look like there were curtains on the windows. Her jealousy settled before she even realized she’d been jealous. Of what, she wondered. Emmy had nothing to be jealous of.

  Boomer was her rescuer, not her prince charming. She would stay the night on a spare bed and call for help in the morning. It wasn’t like she was going to stay forever.

  He had the door open before she could even reach for the handle. This time, he helped her onto her own feet and carefully walked beside her toward the front door. Her footing was surer now, and she began to suspect that the pain in her ankle had been simple stiffness from the way she’d lain. The more she walked, the better it became. Still, if she needed to run away, she was going to be woefully slow. She gave Boomer one last glance, studying his face for warning signs.

  There were more scars than just the one on his lip. They covered his jaw and crept below his collar. She should have been afraid of them, of what they meant, but she only saw the concern in his eyes and the gentle touch of his fingertips against her lower back.

  Inside the cabin, the décor was sparse. There was a single, folding card table with two, rusted folding chairs. The cabinets were all straight, but their paint was scratched and chipped. No rug sat on the floor beneath the kitchen sink. She’d been right about the curtains, too. None of the windows were covered. At least none of the ones she could see.

  “Welcome to Boomer Castle, home of the handsome and single Duke of Nothing.”

  Emmy hobbled toward a nearby counter and leaned on it for support. The cabin certainly wasn’t homey, by any means, but it was better than sleeping in a bush. The longer she looked, the messier it seemed. There were old beer bottles in the sink, playing cards scattered on the floor, and empty tin cans on the counter from microwavable pasta.

  “I want to help, to pull my own weight while I stay,” Emmy began. The room spun, tilting around her while she gripped the counter. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

  “I’m more concerned about your head,” Boomer said. The massive man hovered over her for a moment, hands held out like she might crumple. She caught the furrow of his brows and how his eyes thoughtfully darted toward a closed door. He disappeared only to return seconds later with a tackle box in his hand. She peered at it curiously before he propped it on the card table and opened it to reveal a cache of first-aid supplies. “Would you mind letting me look at it? Your head, I mean. We can look at your ankle, if you think it will help, too.”

  She nodded and took a seat in one of the rickety chairs. It wobbled beneath her and helped the room tilt again. It was going to need to be replaced, she thought, especially if she was going to be staying.

  Staying? All she needed was a night or two. That didn’t call for redecorating. Not in the least. She couldn’t believe her own mind. The thoughts that were coming to the surface were ludicrous. It had to be some sort of savior effect. Boomer had rescued her from the side of the hill, so she was attaching herself to him.

  A small part of her screamed at her to run. The instinct was oppressive, constantly wailing in the background. When Boomer’s fingers touched her hair, gently searching for the bump that caused her amnesia, the voice quieted. He was careful with her, as if afraid to break her.

  Emmy wanted to lean into him. It felt nice to be touched. She had a feeling it’d been a long time since someone had been so tender with her. What had her life been like before? Why did she want to run so badly?

  She needed to do something, to say something. Her mind was a mess and she could no longer linger in it, twisting herself into a web of confusion.

  “Why do you have such a big first aid kit? I might have amnesia, but I still don’t think they come in tackle boxes like that.”

  Boomer laughed, nothing more than a huff of breath that moved through her and left her warm. He worked behind her, quiet and contemplative. A voice inside Emmy told her she should have been afraid of the giant man. His fists were meaty and scarred from fighting. His face was marked with the evidence. Yet, she felt comfortable in his presence.

  She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her head on them, ready to drift off to sleep under his gentle touch. She was nearly there, the darkness creeping in around the edges, when Boomer gently shook her.

  “No falling asleep on me. We don’t know if you have a concussion. Your kind has a tendency to be fragile.”

  Emmy twisted and found his lips pressed together, as if he’d said too much and immediately regretted it. “Your kind? Are you calling women weak?”

  His shoulders sank, with what Emmy thought to be relief, and he flashed her a soft grin. “I don’t get to interact with people that often. Even on the job, the guys don’t talk much. It’s made me a bit…rough around the edges. I’m sorry if I offended you.”

  Her eyelids fluttered when his fingers touched the base of her skull. They moved upward, threading through her hair in search of the source of her head injury. She could have told him there was a pain above her right ear, but she was enjoying making him search for it. This must be what pets felt like. This was why they put their heads into human hands and asked for scratches.

  “You’re falling asleep again,” Boomer noted. “Alright. If you refuse to talk, I guess I have to. Kick me if I say something stupid. Okay?”

  Emmy nodded. He found the wound, drawing a hiss from her lips as she yanked away from him. Pain burned like wildfire. She dug her nails into her thighs and counted her breaths. It was instinct, but it helped her through the pain. Behind her, Boomer mumbled something. She heard him rummage through his massive first aid kit.

  “Tell me why you have such a large kit.”

  “Okay. I can do that.” He worked for a moment, silently swabbing the wound with rubbing alcohol as if it took all of his focus. “Oh. I’m supposed to be talking. Right. The tackle box.” He tossed aside the swab and reached for a bandage. “The guys don’t always get along. We’re a crew, but we aren’t all that domesticated. Most of us are just wild animals at heart. A lot of fights break out over stupid things. Wh
ile we’re a hardy bunch, injuries happen more often than not.”

  The men at the site were all huge and intimidating in their own way. The fights must be brutal, she realized. It made her sad. “Why can’t they just get along?”

  His hands dropped and reached for her ankle. She opened her mouth to tell him it felt better, but the warmth of his hands made her swallow her words. It felt too good, his warmth seeping into her skin as he massaged the tense muscles.

  “It’s not who we are. Bea- I mean, men can be bullheaded and territorial. It’s just who we are and when that clashes, bad things can happen.” He sighed, stood, and let his fingers trail over her shoulder before they fell away. “That’s why you have to go back to town tomorrow. You’re welcome to stay here for the night, but tomorrow you should go back.”

  Her stomach clenched. An overwhelming urge to fight his words slammed into her. It told her to beg and plead, but she somehow managed to swallow it down. Boomer eyed her warily but said nothing. Instead, he jerked his head for her to follow him.

  He nudged a door open with his shoulder and jerked his chin toward the naked queen-sized bed. Emmy watched a curl escape his ponytail and bounce over his ear. It was so soft compared to the sharp lines of his face.

  “You can sleep here. The TV has cable, but there aren’t many channels. The best you’ll get are midday gameshows.”

  The mattress was bare, as was the single pillow at the head of it. Shirts, both cotton and flannel, littered the floor alongside torn jeans. “Is this your closet room or something?”

  “What? No. This is my room.”

  She slapped her hand over her mouth to smother her laughter. Boomer cocked a brow at her laughter and surveyed his room again, as if the joke might jump out at him. When it didn’t, he pressed her again.

  “Who lives like this?” She gestured to the naked bed. There wasn’t even a blanket on the floor that could have been kicked off in the middle of the night.

  “Uh, I do?” Boomer still hadn’t caught on.

  Emmy shook her head and backtracked. She was sure she’d seen a linen closet somewhere. Once she found the narrow cabinet built into the wall and began rummaging through it, her mind started to work over what was happening. Boomer had offered her his bedroom. She couldn’t accept it. There was no reason that she should kick him out of his own room while she stayed.

  With sheets and a blanket in hand, Emmy returned to the bedroom. Each step loosened her ankle until she could walk normally again. Her head felt light, but she pressed forward, determined to be of use. With deft hands, relying on muscle memory, she quickly made the bed and fitted the single pillow with a case. She even gathered the fallen clothes from the floor and dumped them into the washer on her way out.

  “Those weren’t dirty!” Boomer’s footsteps thundered after her, but it didn’t raise fear. Instead, she laughed.

  “They most certainly were. Clean clothes don’t smell like sweat and wood.” She had to admit that the scent had been…arousing. It’d tingled her nose and made her head light. She hadn’t been prepared for her body’s reaction to it.

  She snatched a clean blanket from the linen closet and retreated to the couch, grateful the blanket didn’t smell like Boomer. She couldn’t be attracted to a man called Boomer. Sure, he’d picked her up out of the bush and patched up her head, but he was just a wild lumberjack.

  There might be someone waiting for her back in town, she realized. Someone might be searching up and down for her. They would be scared and out of their mind while she was flirting with a man named Boomer, of all things.

  Emmy flopped down on the couch and yanked the blanket up to her chin, staring at the ceiling because there was no television in the living room. Moments later, Boomer’s laughing face entered her field of view. He stood over her with his hands on his lips and his amusement lighting his eyes.

  Damn her body, her stomach tightened at the sight of him. It begged her to pull him down atop her. The worst part was that Emmy wasn’t even sure if this was out of character for her. She wanted to claim that it was, that she would never do such an impulsive thing, but she didn’t really know. She knew nothing about herself.

  “I offered you the bed. What do you do? You put sheets on it and then take the couch? I don’t understand.”

  Emmy didn’t either. Everything was new and old, strange and confusing. She couldn’t tell what was going on.

  “Oh, for f—” Boomer bent and lifted her off the couch, blanket and all. Despite Emmy’s complaints, he carried her back to the now clean bedroom and laid her on the bed. Reaching over her, his scent begging her to reach out and touch him, he grabbed the remote and turned on the television.

  Her hands were halfway to him and she had to tighten them into fists before Boomer saw what she was doing.

  “Sleep here tonight, once we’re sure you aren’t going to die in your sleep. Don’t argue.” He stepped back, looking very much like he wanted to stay. Finally, his shoulders sank with resignation. “I have to get back to work.”

  “Oh, okay. Yeah, you’re right. You can’t stay here.”

  It was just her and the TV until he came home later. His words left a nugget of fear in her chest, but it wasn’t like she would keel over at the drop of a hat. She had to admit that, for a while, it’d just been her and a bush. This was far better than the beginning of her day, even if she didn’t want to be alone. The truth, as she had to keep reminding herself, was that she knew nothing about Boomer. He was a total stranger.

  She listened to him leave, to the roar of his truck engine as it puttered back up the mountain At least he hadn’t tried to lie to her. He didn’t tell her she was his wife or his maid. Boomer had been honest with her, as far as she knew.

  Then again, Emmy could actually be his wife and he wanted a divorce. There was no way he would have taken care of her like that if he wanted a divorce. Maybe she was the wife of one of the other men at the site and he wanted a divorce, but Boomer felt bad for her, so he helped her out.

  She knew her mind was running wild. It was time to turn off the soap operas. The truth was probably the simplest explanation. Emmy had been hiking through the mountains, probably by herself, and fell. When she knocked her head on a rock, she’d lost her memories. It just so happened that a pack of burly men had found her and took her in.

  Movement outside the window caught her attention. Carefully, she slid off the bed, despite her ankle’s protests, and stepped closer. Her heart thumped like a scared little drummer boy. This was a secluded place in the mountains. Emmy didn’t think there would be other people around. It could be one of the other men, checking up on her. The lumberjack wouldn’t be in the backyard, though.

  Though her mind went on a rant about mountain cannibals and serial killers, the reality was a lot simpler. A burly figure skulked through the yard. Its fur was dark like burnished gold and its paws were the size of dinner plates. Hell, the bear was about the size of a small car.

  Emmy watched the grizzly bear lumber through the yard, her breath caught in her throat. Could it break down the door? Would it try? She sank toward the floor, only her nose and eyes above the windowsill. When the bear dropped and nestled into a comfortable ball of dangerous fur, Emmy let out a small shriek.

  It was going to sleep in the backyard? She had no way to call Boomer, but it wasn’t as if she could ask him to scare it away. She couldn’t ask him to face off with a random grizzly bear.

  The beast looked right at the window. It met her eyes and blew a soft breath out its nose. Terrified, she scuttled away from the window and hid beneath the blanket. Emmy stayed like that until her stomach growled with hunger. It begged her to leave the imagined safety of the blanket to search for food.

  Hours had passed, and the bear hadn’t broken into the house. She tried telling herself that it must have gotten up and moved on, but when she looked out the window, it was still there.

  In a fit, she threw the window open. A thin screen sat between her and the bear. Well, t
hat and probably twenty feet. The bear had been her only company for the past couple of hours and a strange sense of familiarity overcame her.

  “I’m going to go make myself dinner!” She waited for it to get up and rush her. When it didn’t, she went on. “You might smell food, but please don’t attack me.”

  The bear stood and shook out it’s rumpled fur. Her heart stopped. She thought it was going to come in and kill her finally. Instead, the beast turned it’s back on her and wandered back into the woods. It was a strange interaction, but she was grateful she’d never run into the beast before. If she had, there would have been significantly less of her to find in that bush.

  Emmy limped out toward the kitchen. Rows and rows of empty cans waited for her, taking up counter space. She did her best to ignore them while she searched for something to eat, but she couldn’t take it. The clutter drove her mad.

  As nice as Boomer had been, she found herself craving civilization. No sane person kept their house like this. She didn’t know how he managed to live, let alone find clean clothes each morning. Hell, he probably didn’t. She doubted the other burly men could tell the difference between clean and dirty clothes, either.

  The urge to return to wherever she came from had her looking for the blue bag they’d found on the hill. Her hands easily found their way around. She uncovered a bag of trail mix that had split open and spilled into the bag’s pocket. There was an empty journal and a couple mismatched pens, as if she’d intended to write, but never found the time.

  Finally, she found her phone. There was a crack on the upper right-hand corner and it wouldn’t turn on. Her stomach twisted. If she couldn’t find a contact in it, how would she ever find her way back to herself? She knew she was being a bit ridiculous, but it was her only lifeline to the life she’d had before the fall.

  If it had broken when she tumbled down the hill, then she would have to wander through the world until someone came to claim her. Or, until her memories returned. The murk in her head didn’t feel any lighter. It didn’t become any more transparent. She feared it might remain there forever and there was nothing she could do about it.