We spend the rest of the hour at the hot springs pretending we don't know each other, which is weird, but also basically what I asked for, so it's hard to be upset. He's honoring my rules, even if I don't like it. Which is precisely why I have to be okay with it.

My desire to have him around, keep him close, is already a bit strange. I've never been a clingy anything—friend or girlfriend. Flighty independence is my default, but there's something appealing about his solid dependability.

Outside the hot springs, Blake has his pack slung over his shoulders, and he's got his shirt back on. His shorts don't seem as wet as I thought they'd be. They had a bathing suit dryer in the women's changeroom, and maybe there was one in the men's too?

In any event, I'm glad his muscles are covered up. Of course I knew he'd be fit under his clothes—everything about him screams it. His toned biceps poking out under his T-shirt or on display in a tank top have been enough to make me swoon, but the whole physical package is one hundred percent my type.

He runs his hand through his overly long hair as I sidle up to him. "Ready?" he asks.

"Totally."

We head down the path toward the base of the trail, and neither of us seems to have much to say. The quiet between us should be strained, and it surprises me that it isn't. Considering we ignored each other over the last hour, I thought it might be odd to walk next to him again, but it's like that hour didn't even happen. I've never liked silence, but with him, it's not so bad. Maybe even nice sometimes. Comfortable.

Ahead, just off the path, something burly with rusty brown fur rises, nose in the air.

"Blake," I say in a hushed voice, skidding to a stop, and I grip his forearm.

"Fuck me," Blake says, "I see it."

Not even a hundred feet from us, a grizzly stands on its back legs, and it turns slightly toward us, still sniffing the air. I knew bears were tall, but I didn't expect quite the hulking presence over the foliage. On the other side of the path, another one emerges, just as imposing.

"Oh, my God," I whisper. "Oh, shit. Two of them? What do we do?"

"Back up," Blake says, voice even, no hesitation. "Keep facing them. Back up slowly. SLOW-LY."

I start shuffling backward, and I keep my hands raised, as though the two large grizzlies are bank robbers intent on stealing my cash rather than mauling me to death.

"Get the bear spray out—in your hand," Blake says, "just in case. But keep walking. Stay behind me."

The spray is in my side pocket, and I keep my steps even as we continue to retreat. Once it's in my hand, I breathe a slight sigh of relief.   

"Do you know how to use it?" Blake asks, his voice calm and measured.

"Not without reading the instructions," I admit. There's some sort of safety clip on it, and I don't know if I take it off now or at the last minute. Should have practiced this or at least had some idea of what to do with the can. Having Blake kidnap me taught me nothing.

"Give it here." He holds his hand behind his back without turning around, and I drop the can into it. It only takes him a second to scan whatever is written there. Photographic memory for the win.

"Are we okay?" I ask.

"Fine," he says. "Just keep moving."

Both bears are still on their hind legs, noses in the air, but there's more distance between us. No idea how much that distance matters if they decide to charge. We aren't far from the hot springs, thankfully, and when we round a corner of the path, out of the sightline of the bears, Blake's shoulders ease.

"We need to report this," he says. "Bears that close to the main trail can't be good." He rotates on his heel, and he grasps my hand, taking me along the path with him in quick strides.

As soon as we mention the bear encounter at the main desk, there's a flurry of activity—phone calls are made, signs are posted, and a few workers get out a map to give us an alternative path to the parking lot. They must do drills for this because they are very efficient.

"You okay?" Blake asks, peering at me as the workers buzz around us.

I nod, but I can't say anything. Seems silly, but I don't know what I would have done if Blake wasn't there. While I had the bear spray, I hadn't practiced how to use it, and I'm pretty sure at the sight of the bears, my instinct would have been to turn my back and pretend they weren't there.

You can't see me, bears. I'm not here, as I hotfooted my way into, probably, more danger. The desire to run was hard to fight, and without Blake's calm reassurance, panic might have gotten the best of me.

He brushes his hand along my back in a soothing gesture, and I'm tempted to lean into the contact, but I don't. I'm still self-aware enough to know his comfort isn't something I should seek, even if I'm willing to accept it. Seeing that first bear appear was scary, but the second one? Terrifying.

One of the workers talks Blake through the longer route back to the parking lot, and Blake nods along, asking questions.

"I think I'm in shock," I mutter to no one in particular.

"Likely," Blake says to me, but he's still focused on the map, even as his hand strays to my back again. "That's all we need to know?" Blake glances up from the marked path to the worker.

"Yep," the guy in front of us says. "Talk loudly and continuously on the way back since you don't have any bells. You need the noise as a warning in case there are other bears in the area. Unlikely, but..." He shrugs.

"Great," Blake says. "Thanks." He puts the map and bear spray in one hand, and he takes my hand with his other.

Then he leads us out a different door and back onto another trail. As we walk, he keeps up a steady stream of generic chatter—fun facts about Canada—that I didn't even know he was capable of, but the silliness of some of the things he claims slowly eases my anxiety.

"That's not true," I say.

"It is. You can search it up when we get to the truck. St. Paul, Alberta has an official UFO landing pad." He lets my hand go, maybe sensing that the worst of my freak out is over, but I immediately miss the strength and solidness of his grip.

"Why aren't we going there?"

"We can," Blake says. "It's not far from Edmonton, if I remember."

"How do you know all these random things?"

"Steel trap," he says, tapping his temple. "Or sponge. Whatever metaphor you prefer."

"Do you like knowing everything all the time?" As someone who tends to forget anything that doesn't have an immediate impact on my life, his knowledge retention is impressive.

"I don't know everything all the time," he says with a bit of a laugh. "A strange combination of extremely practical and useful things, and a collection of facts no one would ever need to know."

"A memory like that would be very useful as a lawyer... Or a doctor." A host of other professions, but there's something about his calmness through the whole bear encounter that makes me think he's got a high-pressure job. That would also explain the sabbatical. "My working theory is doctor," I say to him. "Would explain the savior complex."

"The savior complex that saved your ass today?"

"Honestly, it was probably my whole body. I doubt the bear would have just gone for my ass, although, that is the meatiest part of me." The joke comes naturally, but I'm aware of how differently things might have gone if I'd been alone. "So, doctor?"

"Yeah," he says, and his lips purse as though he's annoyed to admit it. "Doctor."

His resistance to talking about his career is clear, and I leave it at that just as we emerge from the trail at the far end of the parking lot, and I breathe a sigh of relief. "What were the chances we'd actually see a single bear let alone two?"

"Better than zero with those posted signs," Blake says dryly.

"That sounds like an "I told you so"."

"Does it?" Blake's lips tilt up.

When we slide into the truck, the first thing Blake does is rifle through the sheets in the console until he finds my list of rules. On the last page, he scrawls number fifty-two, When Blake feels Gwen is in danger, all her rules are null and void.

His precision over who gets to determine what's classed as dangerous should probably offend me. But I don't argue, and I try to ignore the warmth that floods my chest when his green-blue gaze connects with mine before he slides the rules back into the console and starts the truck.

"You okay with that?" he asks as he steers us out of the parking lot.

"We had a deal. I'm a woman of my word."

"Good to know," he says. "I'll have to be careful of what deals I strike with you."

And me with him because for the rest of the trip, I have the added layer of wondering whether something I've chosen to do will mean Blake tags along.

Extra update? I could probably manage one early next week. 🤔😉

Update: Early next week

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