Chapter Four

~Hannah~

I DIDN’T SLEEP. NOT much, anyway. One of my colleagues was out of town yesterday, and of course that’s when two of his patients decided to go into labor. I was at the hospital late into the night.

I should call Brad and tell him that I’ll have to take a rain check on the hike today. That’s the responsible thing to do. I should sleep. If a bear runs out onto the trail and tries to kill me, I’m way too tired to run away.

I’m just trying to save my own life here.

I roll my eyes and stare at myself in the mirror.

“You don’t want to cancel. You like him. Not to mention, his dog is the cutest ever.”

Sadie is maybe the sweetest dog I’ve ever met. She hung out with me all afternoon the other day, following me around the house and then jumping up on the bed with me and sleeping until Brad came to pick her up.

Maybe I should get a dog.

My doorbell rings just as I finish tying my hiking shoes, and I rush out to open the door, only to stop dead in my tracks and stare in the rudest way possible at the man standing in front of me.

He’s not wearing sleeves. So, his muscles are just hanging out all over the place. And dear God, the muscles! He could probably just lift me over his head.

It’s almost ridiculous.

“Hi,” he says with a grin and holds a to-go cup from Sips out for me. “This is for you.”

“Oh, thanks.” I take a sip and feel my eyes go wide. “This is exactly the drink I always order.”

“I know,” he says with a grin. “I asked them to make your usual.”

“Are you real?”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, you have the sweetest dog ever, you bring me coffee, and have you seen you?”

He laughs now and leans in to kiss my forehead. “You look tired.”

“I didn’t sleep much.”

“We don’t have to go.”

“Oh yes we do,” I reply and back away from him before I humiliate myself and jump him here in my living room. “I have to go.”

“Why?”

I just shake my head and grab my backpack. I have fresh water in the bladder, a few packs of jerky and nuts, and my bear spray, which I check twice.

“You probably won’t need the spray.”

“We have the highest concentration of grizzly bears in the lower 48 states,” I inform him and feel my heart already pick up speed at the thought. “I need the spray.”

“I just mean that I’m always carrying, so if something happens, we’ll be safe.”

I stop and glance at him. “You always carry a gun?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Why?”

“I’m the police chief. You never know what might happen.”

“Huh.” I shrug, but keep the bear spray where it is, reach for my coffee, and lead Brad out of my house. “You brought her!”

I hurry to the truck, toss my bag in the back seat, and hug the beautiful Sadie.

“She got a warmer hello than I did,” he says when he gets into the truck and starts the engine.

“We’re friends,” I inform him and kiss Sadie’s cheek. She’s grinning.

“You and I aren’t friends?”

“Are you really jealous of your dog?”

“Never thought I would be,” he mumbles and pulls away from my house, making me smile.

“Thank you for the coffee.” I reach out and touch his thigh, feeling the way his muscles tighten up at my touch. I’m relieved that it’s not just me. That I’m not the only one who tenses up when we’re together.

The things this man does to my body are ridiculous, considering we’ve never been naked together.

“When was the last time you did this hike?” he asks me.

“Last fall,” I reply. “You?”

“Oh geez, it’s been a long time. I was probably in high school.”

“Cool.” I grin at him and sip my coffee. “It’ll be new for you then.”

We’re soon parked near the bottom of the chair lift. There’s a whole village up here of uber-expensive homes, condos, and the ski village itself with a lodge and small convenience store. Almost everything has begun to open up again for the summer tourist season, when people will come up here to hike, bike, zip line, and a whole bunch of other outdoor activities. But it’s still early in the season.

That doesn’t mean the trail isn’t busy. The locals love the outdoors, too, so we won’t be alone on the trail, which makes me feel better.

The more people there are, the fewer the bears.

Once we have our backpacks on and Sadie is on her leash, we set off to the trail head, which is just about a hundred yards from the chair lift. It’s not an easy climb. Four miles of walking steadily uphill is strenuous, but it’s also incredibly beautiful.

We climb out of some trees and onto one of the ski runs, currently covered in grass and flowers, and take a moment to look down onto the valley below.

“Holy shit,” Brad murmurs. We stand side by side and take it all in. We can see about fifty miles south, over three different towns. And to the west is Glacier National Park, which we’ll be able to see even better from the top.

“It’s stunning, isn’t it?”

“That’s a good word for it,” he replies, looking down at me. “How did I forget about this?”

“I think we often take what’s in our backyard for granted,” I reply as we begin to walk on the trail again. We walk over a log bridge that covers a rushing creek, the water high with snow run-off.

My heart is beating at a ludicrous pace. It’s dumb, I’m not going to die on this mountain, but I can’t help it. I’m terrified.

“How are you doing?” Brad asks.

“I’m fine,” I reply. The hike isn’t taxing me at all. I reach down and feel the bear spray on my hip, which makes me feel a bit better.

“That’s the fourth time you’ve reached for that bear spray, and we’re not even a mile up yet.”

“It’s habit,” I say. “You know, you don’t have to follow me. I can walk behind you.”

“Not a chance,” he says and I roll my eyes so he can’t see.

“Are you trying to be chivalrous?”

“I’m learning you,” he replies. “Tell me about this bear phobia.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because you just reached for the spray again.”

My heart is hammering, and I can’t stop looking around me, listening for any tiny sound. We’ve passed several people hiking down. They’re the go-getters, who come up here super early, hike up, and then have to hike back down because the chair lifts aren’t running yet.

I’m not quite that ambitious.

And not one of them was running down the trail for their lives.

“I do have a bear thing. I’m absolutely terrified,” I admit and feel my throat burn with tears that want to come, but I swallow hard. I will not cry over a fucking bear that isn’t even here.

“Why?”

“Because we have the highest concentr—”

“Yes, I know that part,” he says.

“Every summer since I’ve lived here, at least one person has died from a bear attack. Two were injured last year. They love the huckleberries, and there are berries all over this mountainside.”

“Then why hike here?”

“Because I love it.” I shrug and then shake my head, laughing at myself. “Maybe I have this stupid thought in my head that if I face the fear, I can make it go away. But so far, it isn’t working.”

“I’ve never responded to a grizzly fatality on this mountain.”

“So you weren’t there when that poor man and his daughter were attacked last year?”

“Neither of them died.”

I stop and turn around, petting Sadie when she leans on my knee. “You’re missing the point, Brad. It’s an irrational fear for you. You have a weapon and you know how to use it. You also have Sadie, who I’m sure would go ballistic if a bear was nearby.

“I’m just me.” I hold my hands out to my side. “Me and bear spray. But damn it, I live in this beautiful place, and I’ll be damned if I won’t explore it once in a while. My anxiety can bite me.”

“Good girl,” he says with a smile. I don’t respond, I just turn to keep walking, but just then a cyclist coming downhill way too fast turns the corner and bumps me, hard. “Hannah!” Brad yells, as I stumble down the side of the goddamn mountain, stopping myself on a tree trunk.

“Ouch.” I cringe and brush some leaves some my hair.

“Are you okay?” he says from beside me, bracing himself on the tree, digging his feet in so he doesn’t slide down the mountainside, and assessing the damage. Sadie is with him, whimpering.

“Is she sad?”

“She wants to work,” he says. “She’s waiting for commands.”

“What a good girl.”

“Are you okay?” he asks again.

“My ankle hurts.” I take a deep breath, trying to keep my anxiety at bay. “It’s probably just a sprain.”

Or, you know, broken.

It’s not broken.

Except, what if it is broken? I’m on a fucking mountain and my ankle could be broken.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

“Let’s get back up to the trail.” Brad takes my hand and helps me to my feet. I refuse to put any weight on my hurt ankle, so I’m horribly off balance. “How bad is the ankle?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

His lips twitch. “You’re a doctor, sweetheart.”

“Oh. Right.” I glance up the hill and feel my eyes widen. “Holy fuck, did I fall that far?”

“You did,” he says grimly. “And we’re going to get you back up there.”

“Oh my God. Brad, if this is broken, I won’t be able to get up there. I’ll be stuck here. I’ll die.” I reach for my bear spray, but it’s gone, probably unclipped from my backpack in the fall.

And just like that, hysterics decide to set in.

“Hey,” Brad says, but I don’t hear him. I can’t breathe.

I’m going to die on this damn mountain.

Why didn’t I stay home?

The next thing I know, Brad has slung me over his shoulder, and he is carrying me back up to the trail, where he finds a tree stump and sits me on it.

“Hannah.”

I’m breathing too hard to reply. Sadie lays her head on my lap, but rather than finding it sweet, I want to push her away.

I want to push him away.

“Hannah.” He takes my face in his hands and makes me look at him. “Listen to my voice. Just listen to me.”

“Bear spray,” I manage, but he shakes his head.

“Shh. Listen to me. Hannah, you’re okay. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. No bear is going to get you.”

“I’m dumb.”

“No.” He wipes his thumbs over my cheeks and continues to talk so soothingly. “I need to know how bad that ankle is.”

I shake my head and lean on his shoulder, breathing deeply and fundamentally mortified.

This is not how I planned to spend date number two.

“Can you put your weight on it for me?”

“No.”

He leans in and presses his lips to my ear, erasing all thought of my ankle.

“Hannah, you’re badass. I know you had a bad moment down there, but you’ve got this.”

His hands are rubbing up and down my arms, and I take a long, deep breath. He’s right, I do have this, and it’s because just being with him and listening to his voice has calmed me, which is new.

I pick my head up and look him dead in the eye, then plant my sore foot on the ground and stand.

“It’s not broken.”

“Good.” He’s still touching me, grounding me. “Can you get down the mountain?”

“I can get up the goddamn mountain,” I reply and raise my chin. “I’m sorry you saw that.”

“Don’t be.” He gives Sadie a hand gesture and the dog falls into line next to him. “We can go down to the car.”

“I came to hike.” I step away from him and cringe inside when there’s a slight twinge in my ankle. But it’s not broken, or even sprained.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I’ll take it easy.” I look back at him and offer him a smile. “Honest, I want to hike this mountain. I’ll take it slow, and I’ve got you with me, so I’m safe from bears, right?”

He tilts his head to the side, and I can see the wheels turning in his head. I’m sure he’s wondering if he should make me go back.

I mean, he could try.

“You’re safe,” he confirms.

“Great, let’s walk up this mountain.”

***

“It never gets old,” I say and take a long, deep pull of the fresh mountain air. “I mean, look at these mountains.”

“You’re right,” he says and takes a drink of water, then pulls a bowl out of his pack and pours some water for Sadie, who eagerly drinks it down. “This was worth the four miles.”

“Right?” I turn to him, excited. The wooden platform we’re standing on is at the summit of the mountain, and we’re looking into Glacier National Park and on into Canada.

It feels like we’re at the top of the world.

Brad drags a finger down my cheek and hooks a stray piece of hair over my ear. “How’s your ankle?”

“Fine.” Sore. Swollen.

He leans in and presses those lips to my ear again. “You don’t ever lie to me, Hannah. I thought we already had that worked out.”

“It’s sore.”

He kisses my cheek. “Let me take you home and put your feet up.”

I back up an inch and raise an eyebrow at him. “To your house?”

“My house.”

“You want to take care of my sore ankle.”

“I want to be with you. I don’t give a rat’s ass in what capacity that is. Hiking, grocery shopping, watching TV, or having you naked and moaning under me.”

He’s still whispering, but he makes me blush.

“Okay.”

“To what?”

“Your house.”

He grins and kisses me chastely, then motions for Sadie to come to the chairlift line with us. Because we have her with us, we have to ride in a gondola, rather than on the chair, which is fine with me.

The view is the same.

I press my face to the window and watch the valley coming closer and closer. We pass over people hiking the trail. A deer and her fawn are lazily eating in a meadow.

“I wonder who that kid was that tried to kill me?” I wonder out loud.

“He was going too fast for me to see,” Brad replies grimly. “He did yell sorry.”

“Well, that’s something.”

We come to a stop at the bottom of the lift, and I hobble out of the gondola. Sitting for only twenty minutes has made the ankle swell more and get stiff.

Damn it.

We begin to walk to the truck, but Brad stops me. “Wait here, I’ll go get the truck.”

“You can’t drive back here.”

A cocky smile slides over his lips. “Honey, I can drive wherever I want. And you’re injured. Sadie, stay with Hannah.”

Sadie sits at my side and we wait while Brad, still wearing the sleeveless shirt, jogs to the truck and returns with it a few minutes later.

He helps me inside, and begins the descent down the mountain.

“I live not too far away,” he informs me. “We’ll get some ice on the ankle.”

“It’s too nice outside to spend it indoors,” I reply with a slight pout. “Dumb ankle.”

He smiles. “I think we can work something out.”

He’s right, it doesn’t take us long to get down the mountain and to his house. He has a nice sized lot with a tall white fence surrounding it. The house is grey and not too big. Well cared for, and new.

“Did you have this built?”

“Yeah, about three years ago,” he says as he pulls into the garage, cuts the engine, and closes the door behind us. “Stay here for a minute.”

It’s not a question, and he doesn’t give me time to ask why. He’s out of the truck, along with Sadie, and inside before I can blink. I’m waiting for maybe five minutes when he comes back into the garage and opens the door for me.

“Sorry about that, I wanted to make sure everything was still locked up tight and there was no danger before you came in.”

“Why do I think there’s a story behind that statement?”

He shrugs and takes my hand, helping me out of the tall truck. When I limp inside his house, he simply lifts me into his arms and walks into the kitchen.

“How about a tour?”

“Are you going to carry me through the whole house?”

“I hope so.”

I laugh and nod. “Okay. Give me the grand tour.”

There’s a white and gleaming stainless steel kitchen, living room, and three bedrooms, one of which has been made into an office. The master bedroom is spacious enough for his king bed, a dog bed for Sadie, and a sitting area. French doors open to a patio in the backyard.

The master bath is what dreams are made of with marble floors and countertops. There’s a huge walk-in shower, and a large, free-standing soaking tub.

“I could swim in that tub.”

“Be nice and you might get the chance,” he says with a wink. He carries me back to the living area, but rather than set me on the couch, he walks out of another large set of French doors to the backyard, and my mouth drops.

“Okay, this is my favorite part of the house.”

“Mine, too,” he says with a grin and lowers me to an outdoor sofa. He kisses my forehead, then turns and walks back into the house.

The patio is covered, with a fireplace in the corner. It’s truly an outdoor living space, with plush cushions and a dining room table, along with a grill and outdoor kitchen on the opposite side.

A waterfall runs behind me, making me sleepy.

“Did you do all of this landscaping yourself?” I ask when he returns with a towel and a bag of ice.

“Most of it,” he says. “Jenna helped some. She has the green thumb. I like to be outside in the summer, and I wanted a beautiful outdoor space.”

“Well, you got it.” He rests my foot in his lap and covers it with the towel and ice. “Oh, that’s good.”

“You probably shouldn’t have hiked the rest of the mountain.”

“I’m going to be fine,” I assure him. “I’ll rest for the weekend, and be good as new in a couple of days.”

“Have you always had anxiety?” he asks, throwing me off.

“For as long as I can remember.” I nod, keeping my eyes on my foot. We said we’d always tell the truth. “I can remember waking up in the middle of the night as a little girl and needing to throw up. I wasn’t sick. And once I did that, I’d go back to sleep and feel better.

“My dad wasn’t mean. But he liked to drink, quite a lot actually. No one likes to be around a drunk, even if he is happy go lucky.”

“No, they don’t.”

“I used to call it stress. I can stress out about stress that hasn’t happened yet. I over think. I imagine the worst.”

I always think that I’m going to die.

“But sometimes, it’ll just come out of the blue, and I freak out. It doesn’t last long. Are you scared off yet?”

“Should I be?”

“I’m a mess, Brad. I worry about things that aren’t happening.”

“You’re not a mess. You have anxiety.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes it feels like they’re one and the same. So if you want to take me home and forget all about this, I’d understand.”

“I’m a cop,” he says and massages my calf. “I work all the time. I see shit that no one should ever see, even in a small town. I’ve been known to have an occasional night terror. I’m not prince charming, Hannah. We all have shit that we’re dealing with.”

“Yeah. We do.” I reach out and take his hand in mine, squeezing it hard. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m okay,” he says. “It could be a lot worse.”

“Do you have night terrors all the time?”

“No, but often enough. You should know that if we move forward because I don’t want to scare the piss out of you. I’ll never hurt you. But I might yell. Get restless.”

“What helps?”

He stops and looks at me as if he’s confused.

“What helps calm you down?”

“I don’t know.”

I nod, understanding completely. Until this afternoon, I didn’t know either.

“So, the same goes,” he continues. “If you’d like to go, I get it.”

“I can’t walk very far,” I reply. But I let the ice fall to the floor and scoot into his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I’m not going.”

“Thank Christ.”