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“I wish I had containers,” she says with a frown, and then smiles in delight when I produce two of them from my backpack. “Well, aren’t you handy to have around?”
“Damn handy,” I confirm, and we both get to work filling the containers.
“What about bears?” she asks.
“What about them?”
“They also like huckleberries. Should I be freaked out?”
“You should never be freaked out, babe. I won’t let anything hurt you.”
She smiles over at me. “That’s one of the things I love about you. But seriously, there have to be bears out here.”
“There are some. The ranch hands try to keep an eye on them as much as possible, but animals wander on and off the ranch every day. To our knowledge, there haven’t been any grizzlies on the property in a couple of weeks.”
That has her stopping with a berry halfway to her mouth, and her gaze whips over to mine, her baby blues wide.
“A couple of weeks?”
“That we know of. I won’t lie to you. There is wildlife out here. Bears, mountain lions, wolves, along with the usual deer and elk. Sometimes we get moose. And all the smaller critters.”
“And you want to live here?”
“Absolutely.” I laugh and snap the lid closed on my container. It’s only half-full, but picking these small berries takes time, and I’m done for now. I slip it into my bag and cross to her, wrapping my arms around her waist. “The animals don’t want to hurt us, Blondie.”
“Are you going to tell me that they’re more afraid of me than I am of them?”
“It’s a cliché, but it’s true.” I kiss her neck, and when she puts the lid on her container, I take it from her and slip it into my bag. “We can come out here just to pick berries whenever you want.”
“The season’s almost over,” she says wistfully. “They’ll be gone in another week.”
“If you want to skip the hike, we can just do this and come back another time.”
“No.” She shakes her head and wipes her hands on her jeans. “We got quite a few—enough for a pie, anyway. I want to see what you want to show me. But I don’t want to run into a bear.”
“We’ll keep talking,” I assure her and take her hand in mine. “And I have bear spray if we need it.”
“What about a gun?”
“I have that, too, but we won’t need to shoot anyone.”
She nods, and we keep going up the trail. It’s an uphill climb on the way to our destination, but that means that it’s downhill on the way back.
“Wild forget-me-nots,” she says, pointing to the little blue flowers with yellow centers along the path. “That’s my favorite flower.”
“Why?”
“Look how pretty and dainty they are,” she says. “They’re a happy flower. And they come back every year.”
“I didn’t know that. How did you come to know so much about flowers?”
“Well, working in the field for five years will teach you quickly.” She grins over at me and then tips her face up to the sunshine when we come to a clearing. “I told you before that I spent many summers with Aunt Paula, and she taught me, whether we were in her garden or at the shop together. By the time I bought the business, I knew what was native to this area, when they grew, and I knew a lot about what and where to plant flowers, shrubs, trees… you name it. It’s fun and makes people happy.”
“My mom gardens,” I say as I lift a branch out of her way.
“I know. She comes into the shop to ask questions a lot. Most people think that because I’m not a nursery, I don’t know about planting flowers. I sell mostly already cut pieces, but I can help with just about anything.”
“Have you thought about expanding to add a nursery side?” I ask her.
