Page 10 of Auctioned to the Devil

“I would’ve noticed.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

Her eyes flash. There it is again. That temper.

I release her slowly. She immediately steps away and smooths her jacket like I’ve somehow wrinkled her dignity.

“You’re incredibly irritating.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Frequently, I’m guessing.”

“Enough.”

She bends to inspect the foundation.

I catch the back of her jacket and pull her upright.

“Seriously?”

“Bear.”

Her annoyance disappears. “What?”

I point toward the mud at a fresh bear print. She follows my finger.

It’s a large male. Probably the same one I tracked this morning.

Her eyes widen. “That’s a bear print?”

“Unless Devil’s Peak suddenly got six-hundred-pound dogs.”

She glances toward the trees. Finally. Some caution.

“How fresh?”

“Couple hours.”

“Oh.”

“You carrying spray?”

She looks at me.

I already know the answer.

“Spray?”

“Bear spray.” I clarify.

“No.”

“Gun?”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “No.”

“Knife?”