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They don’t ask wildlife rehab vets who are usually covered in about six different types of animal hair to go on dates.
They don’t look at girls like me, who have no makeup and barely any breasts to speak of, to go on dates.
Not that I’m super insecure about that. I like my body. It’s tough and strong and can help birth a cow, and then go for a fifteen-mile hike the next day.
It’s just kind of… science. Like, I’ve seen mating rituals among animals enough to recognize that males have preferences. They look for females that are lush, fertile. Ones that give the illusion (or not illusion, I guess) of fecundity.
Human males just don’t prefer girls who look like me.
I have about ten years of dating experience, and twenty-five years of life experience, that tell me that.
I should be happy that he asked me to talk about wildlife rescue in the area. Lord knows that I can’t do it alone. With all the people moving to this area from Denver and beyond, it feels like there’s some kind of issue with local wildlife every day now.
I have to admit that I could use the help.
But if he helps, and he’s sexy and smart and cute, why will people want to be around you?
I shut the thought down, even as it makes my chest ache.
I’m not going on a date. I’m going to meet up with a fellow biologist, someone who knows what they’re doing.
I’m going to talk shop. With a colleague.
I’ve never had a colleague that handsome before.
I grab my keys, ready to open the door, when movement catches my eye. Just behind my car, there’s a little pile of rocks. I’m not sure why or how they got there, but I wasn’t about to touch them when I moved in. I walk around the car, peering into one of the cracks as I look at what caused the movement. Surprisingly, there’s a familiar looking face peeking at me from one of the rock piles.
There’s no way…
I kneel down, looking at the beady black eyes blinking at me. “Little ermine?”
The ermine moves cautiously forward.
He could be a different one, but my eyes go to his side. I stitched him up as best I could, but I still left a little scar.
Sure enough, there’s a bump in his smooth, white and brown summer coat.
I blink “How…”
Jenni had released the ermine a week ago. I’d asked her about it the day after my hike.
How had he followed me here? I live at least ten miles from the rehab center.
The ermine blinks at me, its little black nose whiffling, and it darts back under the rock.
Huh.
I’m definitely confused, but my heart feels a little brighter. I had been worried about the little guy for the past week, so while I have no idea why or how he followed me home, I’m kind of glad he did.
It feels like a good sign. I can handle this (not a date) meeting with Thorne. I can make room for another wildlife rehab in the area.
And I can still continue to live the life I’ve come to love so much.
Making sure the ermine isn’t anywhere near my tire, I climb into my car.
I wonder if Thorne knows anything about ermine. They’re pretty secretive, and I know their research base is pretty small…. I pull the door shut, musing about the little guy.
The 4Runner’s door slams a little too hard, and it jars me out of my thoughts. I start her up, trying to clear my thoughts as I begin the drive into town.
