Page 91 of Sugar & Shadows

Dammit. The GoPro on the helmet was over by the ATV, as were the other cameras.

I grabbed my phone out of my pocket and used two fingers on the screen to zoom in on the menace.

“It’s a bear,” Sabrina whispered, her voice shaking and hands clutching my vest.

“It’s just Betsy,” I said, willing my hands not to tremble. “You can tell because she’s only got one eye, and she’s on the small side.”

“I thought bears hibernated.”

“They do,” I told her. “But it’s shoulder season, and when we get thaws, they come out. It’s normal for her.”

“So she’s the one who ruined my shoe,” she growled, stepping out from behind me.

I held an arm out, stopping her. “Easy. Don’t spook her. Just because she’s used to people doesn’t mean you should fight her. And regardless of her size, she’s dangerous.”

“I should sue her. Those shoes are irreplaceable.”

Biting back a chuckle, I shook my head. “You can’t sue a bear. She’s a wild animal.”

“She should face consequences for her actions.” She huffed.

“Just wait.” I tracked Betsy with my phone’s camera, waiting until she moved on. When she was a safe distance away, I sprinted for the ATV and pulled out the good camera. By the time I’d turned it on and zoomed in on her, she was still happily inspecting sap buckets and rubbing her back against the tree bark.

Sabrina followed, donning the GoPro again, then tiptoed away, getting footage from other angles. We didn’t speak, just signaled to one another as Betsy got bored and headed back down the hill.

“Your wildlife has no boundaries,” she said when Betsy was gone, exhaling deeply and leaning against the ATV.

“She’s very community oriented,” I said with a laugh. “Probably felt left out of the festivities.”

Sabrina rolled her eyes. “I hate this state.”

I pinned her with a glare, the memory of how she tasted flaring in my mind. “No you don’t. You’re adapting.” I smiled slowly. “Admit it, you’re starting to like us.”

She stared at me, lips pursed, then sighed.

“Maplewood is growing on me,” she said firmly. “The people?” She shrugged. “Jury’s out.”

“The people?” I asked. “Or me?”

We assessed one another, the forest around us silent but for the cracking of twigs and the dripping of sap.

“You,” she finally whispered.

But there was no conviction behind the word. She was as undone as I was.

I took a step toward her and peered up at one of the maple cams. “Probably for the best,” I whispered.

“What is?”

“That you’re undecided. Because if I kissed you out here, Harper would turn the footage into a promotional campaign.”

Her face reddened and she let out an offended scoff. “Bold of you to assume I’d let you kiss me again.”

I bit my lip, turned on by the defiance in her eyes. “You’re still standing here,” I whispered. “Haven’t punched me yet.”

She looked me up and down, her scrutiny making my heart speed up. The odds that she was thinking about kissing me were as likely as the odds that she was seriously considering hitting me, and frankly, I’d enjoy either.

“Tell me you got Betsy with her face in the syrup bucket,” Harper groaned.