As frazzled as I am by his proximity to me, I push that aside. “Let me do it on my own.”

He steps away and to the side several feet, his arms folding across his chest in a way that makes his biceps bulge even more. I ignore how self-conscious I feel under the weight of that gaze and mimic the steps, bringing the ax down on the exact spot, the impact jolting my arms.

“Good job. Try it again.”

I do. A dozen more times, until sweat trickles down my back, and finally I hear the splitting sound.

“A couple more hits should cut through the last bit, there.”

He’s right. Finally, I rest the ax head on the ground and smile triumphantly as two chunks lie on the stump. “Where’s the next one?”

He chuckles, closing the distance to take the ax out of my hand. “Let’s work your stamina up. Your body’s going to hurt tomorrow, and we need you on your game. For your job in housekeeping.”

I step back as he takes his position in front of the stump, setting up one of the pieces on its end. He swings the ax over his head and brings it down, splitting the wood in one stroke.

I can already feel the heaviness in my arms, and I split one piece of wood. He’s been swinging that ax for an hour straight. “You must have high stamina.” The second the words leave my mouth, I realize what else it could imply. I shut my eyes and fight the burn in my cheeks. All I seem to ever do around him is blush with embarrassment.

When I crack a lid, I find him setting a fresh piece of wood on the stump.

“My stamina is exceptional,” is all he says before getting ready to swing the ax again.

I’m sweating now, and I’m not sure that it has anything to do with outdoor work anymore. Peeling off my college sweatshirt, I leave it on the side of the truck beside my vest and smooth down my black, long-sleeved shirt, wishing for the thousandth time that my breasts weren’t so cartoonishly large for my slender body. I’ve had them since I was fifteen. I remember coming back to sophomore year after summer break and being accused of having a boob job by the nastier girls in school. A ridiculous suggestion, but I guess I can understand why. I did go up two cup sizes in two months.

I duck my head and turn my focus to the small woodpile. It takes another half hour to load everything into the back of the truck, and I do it quietly, afraid of what else may come out of my mouth.

I’m finishing up the last few pieces when a rash of noisy bird caws sound nearby.

“Abbi.”

“Yeah?”

“Get in the truck. Now.” Henry’s tone is low and even, but I hear the warning in it and I don’t stop to ask questions. I climb into the passenger side. He’s already walking slowly toward me, ax gripped in hand, his gaze focused in the distance. I scramble over as he climbs in behind me, slamming the door shut. He seizes me by the hips and, with seemingly little effort, shifts me onto his lap and then over, swapping seats to put himself on the driver side.

Unease slides down my back. “What’s wrong?” As the words come out of my mouth, I spot the brown body emerging from the tree line, some hundred feet away.

Chapter Nine

“That’s a grizzly bear.” The telltale hump bobs up and down as the beast saunters toward us. I spent plenty of hours reading up on those as part of my research.

Henry remains perfectly still, his gaze locked on it. “A teenager. They’re more brazen than the older ones. More likely to come out to investigate.” He’s speaking softly, calmly. “I saw tracks around here last week.”

“You knew there was a grizzly bear wandering around here and you brought me?” I can’t help the accusation in my tone.

“Relax. He’s just curious. I won’t let him do anything to you.”

A small part of me relishes the protective words, but it’s overshadowed by the bigger issue at hand. “I read they can break into cars.”

“He’s not the Incredible Hulk, Abbi. He’s not going to smash through the glass and grab you in one swoop.” Henry chuckles softly. “As soon as I crank the engine, he’s going to bolt. Trust me. And even if he doesn’t, we’ll drive away. Sit back and keep calm. You get to see nature up close today. Something none of the other staff is likely to see.”

I try to mimic Henry’s ease, settling back into the seat, even though my heart is hammering inside my chest and my breaths come out ragged and my voice sounds shaky. “So that’s a teenager? As in, it’s not full-grown?” I can already see that its back easily lines up with the truck’s hood, even from this distance.

“He’s going to be a big one. I’m guessing close to a thousand pounds.”

I watch it move, the power in its steps. “How do you know he’s a he?”

“See the way he sways as he walks, with his hind legs farther apart? Males do that in the spring, during mating season.”

“You know a lot about bears.”

The grizzly is maybe twenty feet away. Henry lowers his voice to a whisper. “I spent my summers in Alaska when I was growing up.”

The bear is coming around to my side.

“Oh my God,” I hiss.

“Slide closer to me if you’re afraid,” Henry whispers, but I’m paralyzed, the grizzly no more than ten feet from my door, his gaze on me. You’re not supposed to look it in the eyes and yet I can’t help it. They’re narrow and assessing me.

“Why’s he doing that?” I ask as the bear steps from side to side, like he doesn’t know which direction to go. Suddenly he charges straight for my door. I yelp and scamper backward across the seat toward Henry.

Onto Henry’s lap, into his arms.

The bear veers to the side, taking several steps back.

“He knows we’re here and he’s wary. Stay still,” Henry whispers into my ear, the words skating across my skin.

“No problem.” The fact that I’m in my boss’s lap hasn’t escaped me, but I’m temporarily distracted. Thankfully, he hasn’t pushed me off.

Yet.

“See?” Henry’s hand sits on my trembling thigh, rubbing it soothingly, but I only have eyes for the side mirror, where I can see the bear now approaching the truck, where my vest and sweatshirt hang off the side. “He’s curious.”

“Oh, shit,” I mumble, realizing what he’s after. “I have turkey jerky in my vest pocket.”

“Turkey jerky?”

“Yes. I always get hungry midmorning and I didn’t know what I’d be doing today.”

“But, turkey?” Henry mutters something about beef but I’m not listening, too focused on the bear.

Sure enough, the bear tips his head to sniff the air around it. Then he’s up on his hind legs, his massive front paws landing on the side of the truck, rocking us and earning my nervous yelp. His nails drag along the side in a scraping sound that can’t be good for the paint. He starts rubbing his nose along my vest, leaving a trail of wet against the soft pink.

“Do you think he’ll take it?”

The bear drops to all fours, and my vest vanishes with him. Seconds later, I hear the sound of material tearing, and then he’s swaggering away, putting about twenty feet of distance between us and him, with his prize and pieces of pink fabric dangling from his mouth.

My initial terror has abated somewhat as we watch him hunker down on his rump and work away at the wrapping. “That must be hard for him, with those giant paws.”

“He’ll manage just fine,” Henry whispers, chuckling softly.

Heat on my thigh reminds me that his strong hands are resting there. Quite provocatively, too; halfway up, his fingers splayed. I glance down at them, deciding if this is okay.

“We should get back,” he murmurs. “We won’t be getting any more wood split today.”

“Right.” I’m disappointed and I don’t do a good job of hiding it from my voice. The morning with Henry was fun and therapeutic, and exactly what I needed to ease my conscience about how I acted with him that first night. Maybe that’s why he invited me to tag along.