Page 21 of High Velocity

“What happened to you?”

I take in the parallel scratches running down the side of his face and into his neck.

“A little tussle with a bear,” Jackson responds with a wry grin.

“A bear? My God…”

I step aside and wave him in. As he hangs his hat and coat on one of the hooks in the tight entrance, I grab the opportunity to take him in. His short, dark hair looks wet and has hints of auburn in the artificial light. He showered, but didn’t shave; the stubble he sports on his strong jaw makes him even more attractive.

On top of that, he smells fabulous; of leather, something woodsy like pine, and a hint of allspice. Just a faint scent, but enough to make me want to bury my nose in his neck.

“It was only a little one. A cub,” he clarifies.

“Yikes. Where was its momma?” I ask innocently, moving ahead to the kitchen, where I left a pot of four-bean chili simmering on the stove.

It was a bit chilly today, which inspired my choice for dinner. It also happens to be a meal that lends itself perfectly to leftovers, and tastes even better the next day. I made enough to last me a while.

Grabbing the large wooden spoon, I gently stir, scraping along the bottom to prevent the bits of shredded beef getting stuck. It’s far from a traditional recipe and the chili purists among us would be horrified, but I love to add chunks of sweet potato and a tablespoon or so of dark cocoa to the mix. The slightly sweet flavor enhances the mild heat from the poblano peppers.

“What are you making?” Jackson’s voice sounds behind me.

I step aside and let him peek into the pan, realizing he never actually answered my question about the bear. I’m curious about other things too, like for instance, what happened with the search, and what brought him to my doorstep again tonight?

“Chili. Smells good. Different.”

There’s a glint of something in his eyes when he looks at me with one eyebrow raised. Is he fishing for an invite?

“I’ve got plenty.”

One corner of his mouth pulls up. “I see that. Were you expecting company?

“Not really. I just like making a big batch so I can have leftovers and freeze some for later. But you’re welcome to stay for a bowl,” I add quickly.

“Won’t say no to that.”

I point at the fridge. “Grab a beer while I get the garlic bread out of the oven. And maybe you can tell me about the bear cub and what brought you here tonight.”

“Fair enough. You?” he asks, holding up one of the beers I picked up in case Janey and JD dropped by again.

At least that’s what I’ve been telling myself, since I don’t like mixing alcohol with the medication I’m on. I was only ever a social drinker anyway, and seeing that I rarely ever socialized, that didn’t amount to much.

“I’m happy with my water.” I point at the ridiculously large Yeti tumbler I’ve started lugging around.

Jackson takes his beer and sits down at the kitchen table, cracking the tab of his can with a hiss before taking a sip. I try not to look at him and instead, busy myself getting out bowls, a couple of spoons, and some napkins.

“We found the hunter,” he says somberly.

I can tell by his tone the man had not been alive, which isn’t really a surprise. I don’t care what they say, but you never really get used to dealing with the aftermath of death. It’s generally messy, and no matter how hard you try to shrug it off, or bury it under jokes, the images still haunt you.

“A grizzly with two cubs wasn’t happy to give up her post-hibernation snack when we tried to recover the body. Now she’s dead, and two cubs are without a mother.”

I wince at the mental picture that conjures up before I turn to face him, leaning my hip against the edge of the counter.

“That sucks. Where are the cubs now?”

“They’re in a temporary shelter until the warden can arrange transportation to the rehabilitation center in Helena. He seems to think they’re young enough, chances are good they’ll be able to return to the wild eventually.”

“That would be good.”

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