She swallowed hard. “Then you understand why I have to go to Glenhaven.”
“I do.” He picked up his coffee and took a sip of his coffee. “And you have to understand why I pushed to go with you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
She shot him a sideways glance. “Why do you care what happens to me, Yogi Bear?”
Bear’s expression shifted, something vulnerable flickering across his face before the stoic mask slid back into place. “I’m a decent human being, Dougherty. Even if you don’t think so.”
“Aw, is all that muscle actually hiding a soft, gooey center?”
He didn’t answer, just turned to stare out the window and took a stick of gum from his pocket, folding it into his mouth. The smell of spearmint and Bear filled her senses, and was he bigeverywhereor?—
No. No, no, no.
Fuck.
She should not be thinking about the way those jeans clung to his thick thigh or what was hiding behind that fly.
She rolled the window down an inch and let the cold wind sting her face. It helped. A little.
The road wound higher into the mountains, the trees growing thicker on either side. She kept her eyes on the asphalt, but it was impossible not to notice Bear when he just took up so much damn space wedged into her passenger seat.
Two hours. Two hours of this. She could share a car with him without jumping his bones, right?
Right.
Maybe.
Oh, who was she kidding? Probably not.
She almost told him she needed to take him back. She needed to do this alone, just as she’d planned. She had Atlas, a GPS that worked even this far into the mountains, and fifteen years of experience searching every inch of wilderness in Bravlin County. She didn’t need Bear’s protection or his company or the way his quiet presence made her stomach knot.
But she kept her mouth shut and her hands on the wheel. Because, despite her protests, she didn’t want to do this alone. If this Alyson woman did turn out to be Alice…
No, she didn’t even want to imagine how she’d feel.
But she’d definitely not be in the right frame of mind to drive herself home.
They didn’t talk the rest of the way.
The highway narrowed as it climbed, two lanes of cracked asphalt with a ditch drop on either side. Pine walls closed in around them. Atlas had finally settled behind Greta’s seat, but King’s head still rested between her and Bear, and he was drooling happily on her center console.
The gravel track to Glenhaven eventually appeared on their right. It wasn’t really a road. In fact, it was little more thana break in the tree line, with a simple cattle gate blocking the entrance. A hand-lettered sign hung from the top rail: PRIVATE / NO TRESPASS. Beyond it, the track disappeared into the trees.
Her Jeep wasn’t going to fit.
Greta killed the engine and got out. The air was colder here, at least twenty degrees cooler than in Solace, with the distinctive sharp bite of high altitude. She zipped her jacket as she approached the gate, gaze sweeping the tree line for any sign of movement.
Nothing, but she saw another sign that warned trespassers would be shot.
She rolled her eyes at that. Such godly people. She was pretty sure there was no commandment that said to ‘shoot thy neighbor’ in the bible or the Book of Mormon or whatever bastardized version of the two religions these people worshiped.
But the sign did make her rethink taking the dogs.
Bear got out of the Jeep, too, but it took him a bit longer to unfold from the seat, untangle from the seatbelt, and wrestle King back into the car when the dog tried to jump out.
“C’mon, King,” she heard him grumble. “Stay. Be a good boy for once.”
“That dog needs training,” she called to him.
