Page 2 of His Bear Hands (Bear Creek Grizzlies #1)

2

ZOE

T he second electrical shock really did it. As if Zoe didn't feel bad enough about being in the middle of freaking nowhere in the middle of the night, her fingers hurt as well. Which made typing a real bitch.

She waved away the three burly dudes who tried to drag her away from the junction box. "No, I'm cool. It's almost —"

"Leave it," a deep voice said, and her heart seized up. The biggest dude, like a freaking mountain, appeared close by and his giant hand closed around her elbow to carefully draw her away from the wires. "The wiring around here is old school, you're going to get yourself killed."

"There isn't enough power to —" She leaned enough to flip a switch and the whole box hummed. She laughed in triumph, pulling away from the guy who made her stomach flutter, and checked the router as it re-set. "Awesome. Wifi."

She grinned at the older lady behind the bar, who eyed Zoe as if she were a moderately dangerous animal, and then turned to check the approval of all the dudes. Now they had wifi. They could join civilization. Instead they just looked wary. "See? It's — "

But the big dude with the dark hair and neatly-trimmed beard looked like he had a headache, not even a trace of gratitude on his face. He reached for her arm once more and tugged her away from the wiring and equipment. "Great. I'm sure Rosie appreciates it. It's late, though, and we should get going."

She set her heels, heart in her throat. Tate trusted these guys, and this guy in particular, but that didn't mean Zoe wanted to walk blindly into the dark with him. Not that she really had any other choice. She hadn't seen much of this town when they drove in, since there weren't any street lights, but she'd put dollars to donuts there wasn't even a no-tell motel. "Where?"

"To the lodge." He kept hold of her arm as he knocked his knuckles on the bar and spoke to the bartender. "Thanks, Rosie. We'll settle up next week?"

"Any time, hon." The older woman glanced at Zoe and tilted her head at the router. "Thanks for the wifi, chickie. You need anything, call here and ask for Rosie."

"Th-thanks," Zoe managed to stutter, flailing on the end of the big guy's grip as he picked up her backpack and headed for the door. She tripped over her own feet trying to keep up, a little more nervous as three guys followed them outside, but she didn't take her eyes off the backpack. Her retirement plan, or at least part of it, was in there, bouncing against the mountain's broad back. "You don't live here? In — town?"

The one holding her wrist, Simon, snorted something close to a laugh. "No. We live about an hour north and west of here, so we need to get going."

Zoe wrenched herself free and folded her arms over her chest, standing in a gravel parking lot as she stared at the guy. "You're freaking kidding me. This is barely civilization. Do you live in a tree or something?"

He arched an eyebrow as he looked at her, a familiar exasperated look on his face. She'd seen that look a lot growing up — from teachers, social workers, cops, bosses, her mother when she was sober enough to focus... Even Tate gave her that look sometimes, and it hurt more than she could admit. Zoe hardened her heart. She stood on her own two feet, and this knuckle-dragging Neanderthal would not intimidate her into silence.

Simon smiled, though, and ran a hand through his dark hair, setting it all askew. "No, we do not live in a tree. There's a very nice log cabin, we call it the lodge."

Zoe gulped air, trying to reorient the world. Just a couple hours earlier, she was in her cozy apartment, plotting the downfall of Mick Castellano and all of his cronies. And Tate just expected her to live in the woods. Her voice wobbled a bit more than she wanted, but it softened his expression. "Do you — do you have hot water? And electricity? A fridge?"

"No, we eat berries and raw squirrels," one of the other guys said, but he smiled more than Simon. Ethan, she thought they called him.

She didn't dare hope. "Wifi?"

Simon's mouth twitched, as if he wanted to smile but wouldn't, and he held out his hand. "We have Internet, yes. And we even have a kitchen. Ethan only eats raw squirrel because he likes raw squirrel."

"Redneck sushi," Ethan said, jumping into the backseat of a dilapidated Range Rover.

Zoe couldn't quite tell if they were joking. She glanced back at Simon. "I had a suitcase, I don't know where —"

"I got it already," he said, tilting his head at the truck as the other guys loaded up in the back. One leaned against the window and almost immediately began snoring. Simon caught her arm once more, palm warm and rough against her skin, and led Zoe around the car to the passenger side. He opened the door for her and stood behind her until she clambered up. " You can survive a couple of weeks out here, Zoe. You'll be fine."

She shouldn't have believed him, but part of her relaxed to hear the calm certainty in his voice. Simon looked far too capable and strong and intimidating to make false promises, and if Tate knew him from his shady past, then Simon had to be all right. She took a deep breath as she buckled the seat belt, gripping her knees as the giant man meandered around the car and got in the driver's seat. "Thank you."

He focused on starting the car, frowning as the engine chugged but didn't turn over. "You're welcome."

It took a few tries and some well-intentioned but teasing instructions from the two awake guys in the back before the engine roared to life, then Simon turned and drove into the dark town. Zoe gripped the center console and the door for dear life as they bounced out of the gravel parking lot and onto what felt like dirt roads. The Range Rover had to be older than she was, and the shocks worn out several years ago. After a half a mile, though, Simon hit another gear and the ride smoothed out. A chorus of snores from the backseat meant she and Simon were the only ones still awake in the truck. She took a deep breath, more uncomfortable than she could remember being in a long time, and tried to think of something to talk about. That's what people did in cars, she thought. Talked. She'd never been very good at interacting with people in the meatspace. Online was so much easier.

As she debated, Simon fussed with the headlights and peered into the darkness beyond the dim lights. "You can sleep, if you're tired. We'll be driving about an hour."

Sleep. Sleep would be a convenient way to avoid conversation. She chewed her lip but her heart raced too fast to even pretend. Zoe gripped the strap of her backpack, just to remind herself it was all real and happening, and tried to find a comfortable position in the seat. She searched for an acceptable topic when the handsome guy driving the truck didn't seem to resent conversation but clearly wasn't the talkative type. "So, um, what do you do?"

He glanced at her, though his expression revealed nothing even in the faint greenish glow of the dashboard, then looked back at the road. "Tate didn't tell you much, did he?"

"No. Just you guys knew each other and you owed him one."

"I did." Simon frowned, slowing the truck to take a steep turn in the road, then sped back up. "We traveled together when we were younger. I ended up out here a couple of years ago. I run a company that offers backcountry hiking, camping, fishing, and hunting trips. We take tourists on vacation."

Zoe blinked. "So you just hang out in the woods? All the time?"

He laughed, a charming little huff that made her even more nervous. "Yeah. All the time."

She bit at her nails, drawing her feet up on the seat in front of her so she could hug her knees. This guy belonged on a reality TV show about camping and hunting and lumberjacks. Seriously. He made her uneasy, but not in a bad, murderer-y way. He was too capable, too efficient. He owned a space, regardless of where that space might be. In the bar, he dominated the room, even when he just sat and talked to Tate. In the car, he owned the car and the entire freaking road and everything they drove through. He was big and handsome and clearly stronger than anyone she'd met in real life, including Tate, because his arms looked bigger around than her thigh. He possessed the kind of calm certainty that made her feel like a nervous, ridiculous kid who flapped into the middle of his world, made a mess, and then bolted for the exit before anything serious could happen.

She sank lower in the seat and couldn't look at him, her cheeks burning. Thank God the darkness hid the embarrassment. He really was too handsome for real life. He was exactly the type of guy she loved, would stalk online, but could never approach. He wouldn't ever be interested in her.

"Tate mentioned some of what you do," he said after the silence stretched and Zoe made no effort to fill it. "After all this blows over, what are your plans?"

Heat flushed her entire face. Great. So he knew she worked for really awful people. "I don't know," she managed to force out, wishing she could pretend to sleep. Even bouncing her head on the window would be better than an awkward conversation with a gorgeous lumberjack. She wondered if his beard was soft or scratchy, and for a second even considered reaching out to check. She sat on her hands instead. "I wanted to — make up for some stuff. Thought I might find a charity to work for or something."

"That would be good." He nodded, still frowning at the road ahead of him. She wondered if he ever smiled, if the wrinkles across his forehead were permanent. Maybe those rugged good looks would crack and disappear if he smiled too much. Made sense. Simon glanced at her. "You balanced out a little bit of karma, at least, by helping Rosie with the wifi at the bar. I know she appreciated it."

Zoe hoped it was worth it; her chest still ached from that second jolt of power. She hadn't expected the wiring to be quite so finicky. Maybe the electric shocks explained the way her heart stuttered around him. It couldn't be Simon himself. "Good."

"That said," he started, and she froze, heart sinking. Adults never started good news with that tone of voice. Simon took a deep breath. "I'd prefer if you didn't touch anything at the lodge. The generators work most of the time and we can't afford to have an outage. I'm sure you could make some improvements, but things are good the way they are. "

She bit her thumbnail and stared out her window. Message received. Don't touch anything, don't mess anything up, and she would be out of his life in a matter of weeks. He didn't want or need her screwing things up. "Right. No problem."

"While you're here, we could use help in the kitchen and the garden, maybe with decorating."

"Decorating?" Zoe wrinkled her nose as she looked at him. "What do I know about decorating?"

"I thought..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "Don't women like decorating houses? You can pick out curtains and lamps and stuff."

Zoe laughed, resting her temple on her knees, still drawn up to her chest, and studied his profile. "Uh, no. I can barely match my shoes."

"Noah will be disappointed," he said under his breath. "He wanted you to class the place up a bit."

She made a face and tried a sideways shrug. "I can google the hell out of it. Rustic cabin decor. Country chic. Backcountry cottage."

He snorted, dangerously close to a face-cracking smile, and something in Zoe's chest eased. Maybe he didn't resent her. Maybe the next couple of weeks would be a good distraction instead of a terrifying hell of hiding under her bed without an Internet connection. Her phone hadn't registered a signal for hours.

"Country chic," he said. "That's definitely us," and he gestured over his shoulder at the three bruisers snoring away in the backseat.

Zoe straightened enough to glance back at them, the three guys with their mouths hanging open and limbs all akimbo, then looked back at Simon. "Are you guys related?"

"Not really." He slowed the car again to take a switchback as they started gaining altitude. "I know Ethan from the same place I know Tate, and Cooper and I went to high school together. Finn showed up one summer and never left. And Noah, who's back at the lodge, is a distant cousin. He ran into some trouble and needed a place to lay low for a while. I have a habit of collecting strays." And he sighed.

Zoe felt about as low as possible in the jacked-up truck. Another stray. Another burden for Simon's giant shoulders. Her head rested against the seat and she resigned herself to a long month of trying not to fall in love with him. Since she was only a stray.