A jolt of fear hijacks my pulse. “An injured bear is a pissed as hell bear. Forget any friendship or bond with humans. She’ll attack anything or anyone that tries to get near her.”
Angelica’s hands flutter to her neck. “Oh, no. Not Hilda. But won’t it be better if someone is with you? What happens if she does attack and you’re hurt too?”
“You’re not coming and that’s final.”
“The only things that are final, Evermore, are death and taxes. And neither one of those are happening here today. You can make your arrogant demands from now until dusk, but I’m not leaving.”
“Damn you, Angelica!” I scrub a hand down my face. “Whoever ends up with you is going to have to leave the ‘obey’ part out of the equation.”
She grunts. “As if. Obey isn’t even a word in my immediate vocabulary.”
My eyes narrow into annoyed slits even as I give in. “Stay behind me.”
She tags along as asked for once, trudging through brush and slush for another quarter mile or so, as my irritation with her grows along with my fear for Hilda and what I might find when I reach her. But part of me – the tiniest sliver – welcomes her support. I’ve come to care for the giant bear, and if she’s met an untimely and violent end, that won’t be easy.
No matter how skilled I am at finding tracks and signs of life, the weather slows me down. As the worry gallops out of control, my muscles tighten into a ball of emotion. We trudge another quarter mile and I try to explain to Angelica that if Hilda is badly injured, her first instinct will be to hide herself, probably in her den.
With a little hitch of breath and a dry throat, I spy her hidden beneath the boughs of a large pine. Hustling straight for her, my heart slams against my rib cage. Forgetting Angelica for a hot second, I spin around once I hear her gasp of terror.
That urge to soothe and protect her kicks in again. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. If she traveled this far, it can’t be that bad.”
“Are you sure?”
My eyes flick to her trembling lower lip and then my thumb reaches out to soothe it. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Of course.” She nods.
A low growl rips out from the boughs and I breathe a sigh of relief. She’s not dead. At least not yet. When I push off my backpack and kneel down beside her, she shows me her massive paw. The angry glint of steel hits me square in the face.
Fuck.
When I see the bloody mess, I inhale a ragged breath. Once I start crooning to Hilda, I never stop. “We’ll get that nasty thing off you, Hilda. I promise. Angelica, will you grab my tool kit out of my backpack?”
“Is her paw broken?”
“I’m hoping nothing’s broken and that she doesn’t need stitches, but I can’t be sure until we get the trap off of her.”
As soon as she hands me the plastic box, I crack it open. Along with tools, I have an array of medication and tranquilizers.
Angelica’s eyes well up. “Can you give her something for the pain? Like bear Oxy?”
I sigh. “Nah, that’s not a good idea. Anything that saps her focus or makes her slow and clumsy could mean certain death. I know it seems cruel, but it’s better to give her an antibiotic to ward off infection. I just hope I can get it in her. When she gets pissed, we’re done for. Can you drop those tools on the ground next to me?”
As if God is as angry as I am, the temp drops. The drizzly rain turns to sleet that slaps me straight in the face, making it hard to see when I need to be precise. The only thing that makes me feel better is cursing the trapper to the gates of hell and telling Hilda if I ever see the guy, I’ll throat punch him up to Manitoba.
After about a half hour, I get the trap off and the wound cleaned and bandaged. Now, we have to collect all the feedings supplies for the kits and then hike through this shitshow back to my truck with Angelica already looking like she might not make it.
“She’s going to be okay; I know it. She’ll hurt like hell for a few days, but she’ll be back to normal in no time. The fact that this happened in winter will help her out. It’s like nature’s ice pack.”
I visibly deflate as I stretch the tension out of my muscles. Thank goodness for the trust that Hilda decided to place in me when I arrived, or the outcome might have been much different.
My lips tug upward. “I hate to tell you this, but you look like what Jack shot at and missed.”
She snorts a laugh, and her eyes sweep my body. “I hate to tell you this, Knight, but you look like a flaming pile of bear shit. Courtesy of Hilda.”
“So you say.” I glance down and then back at her. “I think the dirt looks better on you. Good thing since you seem to be wearing at least a few bags of it.”
“Screw you.”
My chuckle rings out but then slowly fades. Since my concentration was on Hilda, I kind of forgot how nice it was to have Angelica here beside me, even in silent support. “You’re one hell of a wingwoman, Angelica. Thanks for being here for me.”
Her cheeks blush an even deeper shade of rose. “I didn’t do anything…”
I hold up a hand. “Yeah, you did. Don’t sell yourself short. One of these days, I’m going to get you to stop saying shit like that.”
Chapter Thirteen
Angelica
I’m up to my elbows in candle wax when I hear the knock at my front door. I drop the silk wick on the counter and whirl around, glancing at the clock on the stovetop. Knight isn’t due for supper until seven. I’m covered in goo and probably smell like the Whitehouse rose garden since I’ve been working on a Sweetheart blend to sell at the Sweetheart Hills Valentine’s Festival.
If Knight is on the other side of that solid oak door, I’m going to knee him in the balls. An early house guest is a rude house guest.
But that annoyed thought doesn’t last long. My heart flips over as I trot toward the door. We’ve been spending even more time together since Hilda’s accident. Knight made sure she was strong enough to make it back to her den to rest and recover. And Hilda was recovering, more quickly than Knight had even thought possible. With Hilda and the kits, Knight has a full plate. He contacted the game warden about the illegal trap, but no one was held accountable for Hilda’s injury yet. Knight spent every spare minute patrolling the woods and trying to find the asshole himself but hadn’t been successful. As long as the poacher was on the loose, none of Knight’s critters were safe.
Maybe even Knight isn’t safe.
I shake that scary thought right out of my head and plaster a smile on my face despite my petal fresh stench and bad outfit. It’s been my honor to help him in his time of need. That’s what friends do. If I can provide him some sustenance and support during this tough time, I’ll do that too. It’s not like I’m reading too much into it. I’m not reading anything into it at all. Once this challenging time is clearly in the rear-view, I’ll go back to working at Cool Beans and candle making full time and he’ll go back to being a bear whisperer.
The smile splitting my face wide fades a little as I stare into space. My stomach falls to the vicinity of my bare feet, but I have no reason to believe that Knight is already here. But I’d rather find Hilda standing on my front stoop than this asshat. Mike Stanley is one of Jess’s cohorts, always up for an insult and some misogyny. Like a male chauvinist wrapped in red and black plaid flannel. With his matching quilted jacket hiding his beer gut, his obnoxious gaze sweeps my body. Despite my yoga pants and oversized t-shirt, I shiver.
“Hi, Angelica.”
“Hi. Is something wrong, Mike?”
One uneasy glance lets me know why he’s here. He’s carrying a tote bag slung low over his broad shoulder.
“No. Everything’s right. Right as rain. A little birdie told me that you have some of those hoity toity soy candles done up for the Sweetheart Festival. My mom loves those things. She’s allergic to paraffin, you know.”
I stare at him. Of all the nerve. “No, I didn’t know. That sucks. A lot of people have sensitivities to toxic ch
emicals. Your mom is a smart lady. Unfortunately, the candles aren’t done yet because I’ve had a busy week. You’re going to have to wait for the festival.”
He sniffs the air and glances behind me. Then without even asking, he barges right past me and into the cabin. “Thought I smelled roses. Seems to me you’re almost done.”
I trail after him, not immune to the fact that a huge man who thrives on bad decisions has just entered my cabin. My cabin out in the middle of fucking nowhere. Another shiver busts loose and this time, it refuses to leave. It won’t leave until he does.
I glance at the stovetop again. Over an hour until Knight arrives. That’s plenty of time for Mike to rape me. Beat me.
Kill me.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“I guess I can offer you one or two once they cool and set,” I say, anxious not to annoy him since he’s inside my house.
“Well, that’s real neighborly of you, Angelica. I’ve got all evening, so I can wait.”
“But I don’t. I’m expecting someone.”
Before I can yell at him to get the hell out, he drops his flannel coat and settles onto my couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table. A slurp of melting snow lands on the glass I just cleaned. “I heard you’ve been getting cozy with ole Grizzly.”
“Knight? Yes, we’re friends.” Ignoring the douche canoe making himself at home in my living room, I make sure the wicks are straight in the candles that I have cooling inside their glass jars.
“He’s sure being a right pain in the ass. But then again, he’s been just that ever since he rode into town on his white horse of moral superiority. Got the sheriff, the game warden, even my second cousin twice removed riled up. What a crock. People been trapping in northern Minnesota since it became a state. Probably even ‘fore that when it was the Northern Territory. And a man’s got a God-given right to protect his family from motherfucking bears.”
Hilda’s kind brown eyes awash with fear and pain float through my mind. “That trap was on the state’s land – not on private property. And Hi – the bear wasn’t in anyone’s yard. There are good reasons that kind of trap has been illegal for years. You think it’s okay for animals to suffer and die when they’re just trying to survive?”
Mike snorts and gestures with his stubby fingers. “Ain’t too hard to figure out where your loyalties lie. You ain’t even been here in Sweetheart Hills that long. And Knight’s a big dude just like one of those moose he takes care of. Ain’t too hard to figure out why you like him, what with you out here all by yourself. Must be cold at night. And lonely. A man likes something to hold onto, you know. Even one that looks like Knight Evermore.”
My spine stiffens into a steel rod at the insult and I walk back into the kitchen to check on the candles. The sooner I can get Mike out of here, the better. “How many candles did your mom want?”
“Aw, I think two will do me. I’m sure she’ll want one in the living room and one in the bathroom. Never understood why you women want a room that smells like shit smelling like shit mixed with flowers, but who am I to judge?”
I ignore him as I fuss around the kitchen, willing the candles to set before they’re ready. They don’t. With a heaving sigh, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and don’t even offer one to Mike. If he’s thirsty, he can walk outside and stick his huge head in the nearest snowbank. I palm my phone, ready to call 9-1-1 if I have to. The sheriff is an old, burly, blowhard, but when it comes to violence toward women, Callahan doesn’t have much tolerance. After all, women are a precious commodity in Sweetheart Hills.
After about ten minutes, the candles finally set enough in the jars that they can be moved without worrying about seepage. And if I can get two of them in Mike’s hands, he’ll have absolutely no reason to come back here.
“Can I smell one?” he asks.
I grab the nearest candle and hold the still warm glass in my hand, slipping my phone in the hidden pocket of my yoga pants. “Of course.”
I sit on the sofa next to him but with a huge gap between us and hand him the candle. He puts it up to his nose and sniffs.
“That smells decent.”
Decent? Is he fucking kidding me? I use the best organic essential oils money can buy and I have the process down to a science. No one in the Midwest, probably even the whole USA, makes a better organic soy candle than I do. But I guess when you’re used to smelling beer and a manure pile, you wouldn’t know a signature scent if it shot straight up your hooky nose.
He leans in as he hands it back, his hand slipping to my knee. Nausea bubbles up the back of my throat as my entire body protests the unwelcome touch. “Get your hands off me, Mike!”
“Why are you being such a bitch, Angelica? We know each other. We’re friends too. You think I couldn’t make you come hard with my huge dick? Like Evermore does?”
My eyes clamp shut. I feel like if I keep them open and looking at Mike, I just might throat punch him. And ultimately, he’s bigger and stronger than me and I won’t be the winner in a physical fight with the man, no matter how much I want to lose my shit.
“Your candles are ready.” I spit out, scooting backward. “You can take them and leave.”
His eyes narrow. “Are you telling me no?”
“Pretty sure that’s what I said.” I jump up to gather his other candle and shove them in a plastic bag emblazoned with my logo.
He trails behind me and when I place the second candle gently in the bag, his meaty paw rubs the small of my back.
That’s it! That’s the last straw.
I spin around with the long lighter in my hand. With one flick, I light it and wave it in front of his face. “Would you like to become a candle yourself? Flannel is highly flammable you know.”
“Aw, now Angelica…”
“Why do you men always make us be mean to you, huh? Especially, me. I just want to be nice to people and get along. But you always have to violate my boundaries and push and push and push. It’s exhausting. And it’s rude.”
“Are you calling me pushy? All I want is a little warm body to cozy up to. Why is that so wrong?”
I give his chest a shove and once he’s close to the door, I press the bag into his hands and throw the heavy door open. “On the house. Tell your mom I’d appreciate her kind words around town. Have a nice day, Mike.”
“Well, I never,” he sputters, clutching the bag and stomping toward his Ford. Then he calls over his shoulder, “You know once Evermore leaves with his tail between his legs, no one will want your fat, ugly ass. Best you high tail it on out of here too, you crazy bitch!”
“Good riddance to bad garbage,” I mutter under my breath, slamming the door shut with a resounding whomp.
Throwing him out of my house brings back a flood of memories awash with agony and regret. Of feeling silly and incompetent for never being able to handle a man when he gets the wrong idea and gets handsy because of it. But I don’t have any time to dwell on it. Because a man I actually like will be here within the hour and I look and smell like a woman who’s been making candles all day.
After a quick shower, I check on the pot roast in the oven and the homemade rolls I have ready to bake. I set the table, then race to the bathroom to do my makeup and put my long hair in an easy updo that will keep it off my face and out of the food. After I make sure the meat isn’t getting dry, a giggle bubbles to the surface.
The look on Mike’s face when he retreated to his pickup is pure gold. I actually handled a man for once, despite his petty insults. Even a month ago, I wouldn’t have laughed about it, not able to see any humor in a situation where I might have been accosted. But Mike was probably harmless. After all, word gets around in a small town and he wouldn’t get away with anything with me or anyone else. But today, I was more pissed than afraid.
Thinking of myself as nothing but the clumsy fat chick has become so ingrained that it never occurred to me until today that I might be shedding that label as surely as Hilda sheds her winter sleep come spring
. Somehow, in trying to live up to Knight’s good opinion of me, I’ve come into my own. I can be the girl I’ve always wanted to be.
Because of him.
I glance at the clock again. He’ll be here within minutes. The roast is done, the rolls are in the oven browning, the table set to perfection. I even lit one of my favorite jasmine candles for the occasion, creating an intimate ambiance.
But it doesn’t have to be intimate.
Unless I want it to.
That thought tumbles and lands, refusing to leave.
Knight isn’t the kind of guy to force the issue, staying back to give me all the space in the world. And I’m not so sure I want that space anymore.
I want to close the gap. I want him.
That huge body pressed against mine, making me feel cherished.
Small even.
I lean on the windowsill and watch for headlights, my heart picking up speed, thinking about him on top of me. Sinking inside my body for that first delicious time.
My feelings for the man tug on my heart like hope for a future.
The past can be forgotten and tucked away like photos ripped in half. I foolishly walked into so many issues with Dravon. That man was my worst mistake, but not the only one. I need to toughen up and get real if I ever want that last shred of my self-respect to grow. But Knight isn’t Dravon. Not even close. He never tries to take advantage of me. He doesn’t disrespect and betray me right out in the open.
He doesn’t leave me as the last to know.
And though I’m unsure of his feelings, I know my own. Desire. Respect. Love.
Shit. I think I love that lummox.
I can choose to never act on my love for him, but that would be a tragedy. Maybe it’s crazy to consider letting myself fall for a bear whisperer. But my heart knows the truth – I’ll never find another man like Knight. He’s the only man I’ve ever known who would never, ever let a woman down.
Chapter Fourteen
Knight
Angelica’s going to think I stood her up. That I can’t be trusted.
I can’t think of much worse than that.
Finally A Bride: A Valentine's Day Romance Page 12