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I’m so cold even my memories are frozen around the edges…
I narrow my eyes, squinting at the road ahead, suddenly worried I might have missed the turn.
It’s so dark I can’t see more than ten feet ahead of me. There’s just enough light left to see that the snow is now dumping with an apocalyptic ferocity and that more clouds are rolling in fast. Lightning flashes across the sky, followed by another whip crack of thunder that has me jumping out of my skin all over again.
Thankfully, this time I manage to avoid tumbling into the swamp, but I do stumble out of my shoe, ensuring I’m wearing nothing but a wet sock with a hole in the toe when I realize the path in front of me is barred by something much larger than the creature I encountered before.
This furry shadow is nearly as tall as I am, and when it growls, its voice is low enough to vibrate my bones and lift every hair on my rattling body.
I can’t make out its features in the dim light—just the large, bulky shape of it—but it has to be a bear. I wouldn’t have expected a bear out and about in the November chill, but until a few days ago, the temperatures have been unseasonably warm. This creature was probably just stocking up on a few last-minute fish and swamp veggies before lumbering to higher ground to hibernate.
And maybe it still will if I make it clear I mean it no harm…
Lifting my trembling arms into the air, I stammer, “It’s ok-kay. I won’t hurt you, I p-promise.”
The bear rumbles even more ominously in response and rises up onto its hind legs, until it towers over my five feet, eight inches, and I’m suddenly keenly aware of how delicate human bodies truly are.
What was the Goddess thinking when she decided people should be covered with tissue-thin skin and come equipped with nothing for personal protection aside from two, semi-pointy teeth and some easily-broken fingernails?
Yes, the human brain is devilishly clever and has the capacity to be far more dangerous than any bear’s claws, but my brain is cold, sluggish, and too terrified to be of any use to me now. And even if it was in tip-top shape, I excel at memorizing poetry and concocting elaborate quilt squares, not evasive tactical maneuvers. I’ve never lashed out at another living thing in my life, not even in self-defense.
I’m a pacifist librarian nerd with the muscle mass of a squirrel, and now I’m going to be gobbled up like one. This bear will rip out my throat, dine on my soft parts, and drag my corpse into the swamp where it might never be found. My sisters will spend the rest of their lives grieving my mysterious disappearance the same way we’ve grieved my mother’s, all because of a stupid crush on a stupid boy.
If I needed proof that developing a sex drive this late in the game was a bad idea, the universe has certainly supplied it.
Silently, I vow never to leave the house or think a single steamy thought about Baron or anyone else for the rest of my life, if only the Goddess will consider sparing me death-by-bear.
I’m adding a promise to avoid romantic books, movies, and diaper ads, too—nothing gets me longing for a husband and family like a chubby-cheeked toddler in a diaper ad—when a deep voice shatters the night air, “Down, Laura. This woman isn’t a threat.”
Instantly, the bear’s front paws drop heavily to the dirt. A beat later it plops onto its bottom and rolls onto its back, showing its belly to the tall, broad-shouldered man who emerges from the swirling snowflakes behind it.
It’s Baron, looking even more like a tortured eighteen-century poet than usual in a gray, cable knit sweater and blue jeans, with his brown hair tousled by the storm and his dark eyes filled with a mixture of irritation and worry that my racing heart finds comforting for some reason.
He crouches down by the bear, rubbing its chest. It moans in pleasure and bats his shoulder with apparent affection, but Baron’s troubled gaze never wavers from mine. “Why are you here, Annie? The swamp isn’t safe. Especially on a night like this.”
“I c-came f-for… I wanted to…” I trail off, blinking heavy eyelids as I struggle to remember why I’m out in the middle of a snowstorm.
I glance down, hoping to find some clue on my person, but I don’t have my purse with me and there isn’t a stack of books or a plate of cookies in sight. I never go visiting without books or cookies, and for some reason I seem to have forgotten my shoe, as well.
I lift my foot, glaring at the pale big toe popping through the hole in my sock as I mutter, “Stupid socks. Stupid holes.” I drag a hand through my hair, shocked to find it damp to the touch.
The logical voice in my head mutters something about falling into the water, but I’m too uncomfortable to pay it much mind.
I’m also suddenly warm. Too warm. The reasonable voice pipes up again to encourage me to notice the snow coming down and rethink the wisdom of kicking off my other shoe, but I’m already wrenching it off my foot and going for the sock beneath.
“What are you doing?” Baron asks.
“Hot and sticky,” I say, wrenching open the button on my jeans and shoving them down around my thighs. On some level I realize normal Annie would never start undressing in front of a man—especially not a man she liked, and especially especially not in the middle of the road, even if it is a dirt road in the middle of nowhere—but the need to get out of this clammy, suffocating clothing is too intense.
Before I know it, I’m on my bottom beside the bear, tugging furiously at my jeans while Baron wails like a banshee.
Or maybe that’s the wind…
Or maybe it’s the actual banshee, the one with fangs and a people-gobbling habit…
“I’m not going to be your snack,” I shout, pointing a warning finger into the darkness beside the road. “I’m not a macaron. I’m a person with feelings! And hopes and dreams! And I—stop it, let me go!” I shout as hands pinch into my armpits, dragging me off the ground before I can free my leg from the wretched imprisonment of the left side of my jeans.
I kick and thrash, certain my life depends on regaining my freedom and shedding the rest of my clothes, but then Baron’s lips are on mine. I freeze, shocked into stillness by the unexpected warmth of his lips and the feel of his big hand cupping my face like a treasure he’s pulled from the bottom of the sea.
