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“Any time. You want one of my shirts to sleep in?”
Her smile turned radiant. “Yes, please.”
He got a faded Pearl Jam T-shirt from the dresser and handed it over.
“Thank you. Again.” She disappeared into the bathroom, emerging in the shirt that covered her to midthigh.
There was another awkward moment and it came sharply home to him that he didn’t know this woman at all. They were two strangers about to share the same sleeping space.
“I’ll just take my turn in the bathroom.” He eased around her, went in and shut the bathroom door. Hanging on the back of it next to his sweats was that sexy corset thingy of hers. It struck him all over again how bizarre this whole situation was.
When he came back out wearing the sweats, she’d already stretched out on the couch. She was settling his old afghan over herself.
He moved a few steps closer. “Cami, take the bed.”
“No way.” She wiggled her toes under the blanket and adjusted the thin throw pillow under her head. “This couch isn’t big enough for you and we both know it. Your feet would be hanging off the end.” Munch made himself comfortable in the space between the rickety coffee table and the sofa. She put her hand down and stroked his spotted coat. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not budging.”
“Suit yourself.”
“Oh, yes, I will. From this day forward, I will be suiting the hell out of myself, just you watch me.”
He got the extra pillow from the bed and gave it to her. “You’re allowed to change your mind. If you can’t sleep on those lumpy cushions, I’ll trade with you.”
She yawned hugely. “’Night.” Pulling the afghan up under her chin, she shut her good eye.
* * *
In the morning, her black eye had opened to a slit and she refused a fresh ice pack for it. “It’ll be fine,” she assured him. “I’m a fast healer.”
He put a couple of logs in the woodstove to get the coals going again and made coffee and scrambled eggs. She shoveled it in like she hadn’t eaten in weeks, and he felt ridiculously pleased with himself to be taking good care of her.
But then he said, “After breakfast, I’ll drive you down the mountain.”
She guzzled some coffee. “You said you were staying for three more days.”
“Cami, you really need to—”
“Uh-uh.” She showed him the hand. “Don’t say it. Don’t tell me what I need. For the rest of my life, I decide what I need. And what I need is to stay here with you and Munch until you have to go.”
“But you—”
“Not going. Forget it. I need a few more days up here in the peace and the quiet before facing civilization and calling my parents to say I’m all right.”
“They’re probably really worried about you.”
“I know.” She chewed on her plump lower lip and looked away. “And I feel bad about that. But right now, I need this—you and me and Munch up on this mountain with nothing to do but breathe the fresh air and appreciate the big trees.” He marshaled his arguments, but then she leaned across the rough surface of the table and begged him, “Please, Garrett. Please.”
And he could not do it—could not tell her no. “Damn it,” he muttered.
“Thank you,” she replied, extra sweet and so sincere.
He got up to pour them more coffee. “So then, what do you want to do today—besides breathing and staring at trees?”
She dimpled adorably. “I’m so glad you asked. See, I left the church without my suitcases, but I did have my purse, with my credit cards and my driver’s license. I don’t know what I was thinking when I finally got my car door open and started climbing up to the road. I left my purse behind. I was hoping we might go back for it.”
* * *
Garrett gave her his flip-flops, another shirt and a pair of his jeans to wear, with an old belt to keep them up. She wore that corset thing under the shirt for a bra. He knew this because he was a man and thus way too aware of what went on beneath a woman’s shirt.
They piled in the Jeep, with her riding shotgun and Munch in his favorite spot all the way in back. More than halfway to the state road at the base of the mountain, she said she thought they’d passed the place where she went into the ravine. He turned around the next chance he got.
She found it on the way back up, recognizing a Forest Service fire danger sign a few yards from where she’d gone off the edge. There was enough of a shoulder to park by the sign.
Before he could tell her to leave the dog in the Jeep, she let him out. Panting happily, Munch followed her to the edge.
“This is definitely the place,” Garrett said, taking in the skid marks. He came up beside her and peered over the edge. Her car had flattened everything in its path as it went down. It seemed impossible that she’d survived the crash and the tumble into the ravine. “You were lucky to be driving that Beemer.”
She made a sound of agreement. “Handles like a dream and one of the safest cars around. I’m going to miss it.”
“I can see the car.” The vehicle was half-buried in underbrush, but twisted metal and shiny red paint gave it away. “What’s that?” He pointed at something white and poufy halfway down.
“My slip. It was hard enough climbing with the dress. I kept tripping, so I took it off and left it.”
“You want it?”
She looked at him, her expression severe. “No, I do not.”
The incline was close to eighty percent. It would be steep going, but there were lots of trees and bushes to hold on to. He figured he could make it down there, get whatever she wanted from the car and get back up without too much trouble. “Anything else you want besides your purse?”
“There’s a notebook and some pens in the glove compartment. I would really like to have those—oh, and my engagement ring should be in there, too. I should give it back to Charles.”
“Anything else?”
“My old red hoodie might be in the trunk. I could use that, if we can get it open—oh, and there’s a hatch through to the trunk in the back seat, so maybe...” She let her voice trail off on a hopeful note.
“I’ll try. Take Munch and wait in the Jeep.”
“What?” She set her stubborn chin. “I’m going with you.”
Had he expected that? Yeah, pretty much. “Not in my flip-flops that don’t even fit you. Your poor feet are cut up enough already.”
“But I—”
“Stop, Cami. It’s not a good idea and I think you know it’s not.”
“It just seems wrong to make you go alone.”
“I’m dressed for the job and you’re not. It’ll be simpler and safer if I do this myself.”
She mouthed a wistful thank-you at him and turned back to the Wrangler. “Come on, Munchy.” With a happy whine, the dog jumped in.
“This shouldn’t take long,” he reassured her as she climbed up to the seat and pulled the door shut.
He started down. It was not only steep, the ground was thick with roots, rocks and debris. Past her big, white slip, he found one white satin shoe and then the other. The soles were red, the high heels covered in dirty rhinestones. Cami hadn’t asked for them, so he left them where they lay.
The car was upside down and badly bent and battered, the driver’s door gaping open, the trunk crushed in. The cab, though, was intact. He pushed the deflated air bags out of the way and looked for a purse, finding it easily—on the ceiling, which was now the floor. Most of the contents had escaped.
Checking not only the ceiling but under the upside-down seats, he found the latest model iPhone, a hot-pink leather wallet full of cards and cash, plus loose makeup, a comb, a brush, a tin of Altoids and all the other random stuff a woman just has to cart around with her wherever she goes. He shoved it all back in the purse.
The glove box popped right open for him, spewing its contents, including the pens and notebook she’d mentioned. He found her registration and proof of insurance in there, too. He even found her fancy ring. It had a platinum band and a large, square-cut diamond. The ex-fiancé might not have been the guy for her, but at least he wasn’t a cheapskate. He stuck the ring in his pocket.
Finally, he managed to crawl into the back seat and get the trapdoor to the trunk open. After a little groping around back there, he got hold of the hoodie she’d asked for.
The purse was more of a satchel, big enough that he could stick the notebook, pens and car documents in there, too. He tied the sleeves of the hoodie around his neck, shoved the straps of the satchel up his arm as far as they would go and crawled from the wreck.
He’d made it halfway back up to the road when he heard Munch frantically barking, followed by a bizarre, pulsing cry.
Adrenaline spurting, every nerve on red alert, Garrett froze in midstep. He knew that strange cry. Black bears made that sound when you stole their food or otherwise pissed them off.
Chapter Two (#ub2003608-5961-58c8-b686-03aa3a447fa5)
Dropping the purse, grabbing for branches to pull him forward, Garrett scrambled as fast as he could up the hillside. Somewhere up ahead Munch barked like crazy and the bear’s angry vibrating yowl continued.
Then Cami’s voice joined in. “Shoo! Back! Get out of here, you!”
Garrett grabbed the slim trunk of a cottonwood sapling and hauled himself higher, finally getting close enough that he could see them through the brush. They were maybe ten yards below the road. Cami had lost the flip-flops but had found a long stick. She held off the bear with it while Munch ran in circles around them, barking.
With no weapon handy, Garrett grabbed a rock and threw it at the bear, striking it on the rump. The bear turned and let out a quick growl in Garrett’s direction, but then went right back to chuffing and growling at Cami, pawing the ground.
She yelped in response and kept jabbing with her stick. “Back! Go!” Munch continued circling them, barking frantically.
Garrett scuttled closer and threw a bigger rock.
That did it. The bear turned on him. Black bears could move fast when they wanted to. And that one flew down the hill straight at him.
“Garrett!” Cami’s terrified scream rang through the trees as Garrett lunged to the side, counting on gravity and the bear’s forward momentum to drive it right past him.
It worked. The bear saw him move but couldn’t stop in time. It lost its footing and started to roll.
A split second later, Munch zipped by, too.
“Munch!” Garrett shouted. “Stop!”
But the dog was already out of sight down the ravine. He heard the bear make that threatening sound again. There was scrabbling in the brush and grunting from the bear.
And then a loud, startled cry from his dog.
The bear gave another angry grunt. Brush rustled and branches snapped. Garrett caught a flash of dark fur through the undergrowth—the bear running off.
And then there was silence.
“Omigod!” Cami came sliding down the bank toward him. “Munchy! Oh, no!” She toppled.
Garrett caught her before she could fall. “Hey now. Hold on.” With a gasp, she blinked up at him. He asked, “You all right?”
“Let me go.” She tried to break free. “I have to—”
“No,” he said softly. When she kept struggling, he shouted it. “No!”
A whimper escaped her. “But Munch...”
He took her by the shoulders. “Go back to the Jeep.”
“I can’t—”
“Look at me, Cami. Look at me now.” She moaned, but she focused. “Whatever happened down there, it’s over. Don’t believe what you see in the movies. Black bears as a rule aren’t aggressive and that one’s already run off.”
“But where’s Munchy?”
“I’ll go see.”
“Oh, Garrett. I was going to stay in the Jeep, I promise. I’m so sorry.” Tears filled her good eye and seeped from the injured one.
“It’s okay. Just let me—”
“God, I feel so terrible. Munchy started barking. He jumped right over me and out the open window.”
“He probably caught the bear’s scent. We had a couple of bears messing with our trash on a camping trip once. Munch was only a pup, but he chased them away. Just doing his job, that’s all.”
“If anything has happened to him, I’ll never forgive myself.”
He gave her shoulders a gentle shake. “Look at me. Listen. It’s not your fault.”
“But I—”
“I’m sure he’s fine.” No, he was not sure. But he had to say something to settle her down. Last night, he would have sworn that nothing could shake her, but right now he feared she might lose it completely. “I need to get down there and see what’s going on, okay?” She swallowed hard. And then, finally, tear tracks shining on her too-pale cheeks, she nodded. He instructed, “I want you to wait right here. Do that for me. Please?”
“Yes.” The agreement came out of her on a whisper of sound. And then more strongly, she added, “Okay.”
“Come on now. Over here...” He guided her to a boulder that poked up from the bracken and slowly pushed her down. “I’ll be right back,” he promised. She just stared up at him, tears dripping from her chin.
What else could he do? He took her hoodie from around his neck. It zipped up the front, so he wrapped it around her. “You going to be okay?”
She sniffled and stuck her hand in a pocket of the hoodie. “Go,” she commanded, pulling out a rumpled tissue and dabbing her eyes. “I’m fine.”
He wasn’t so sure about that, but he turned anyway, and started down the bank, passing her purse where he’d dropped it. Several yards farther on, he spotted Munch’s tail sticking out of a clump of brush.
His whole body went numb, a strange coldness creeping in, freezing him in place. He’d worried that Cami might break. Now, the sight of that unmoving tail almost broke him.
