Page 7 of Wrong Turn, Right Bear
If Theo was worried about being able to kayak and strangers questioning his technique, how would he cope if I revealed my beast, especially as he was here for such a short time? Didn’t humans understand they needed more than seven days in the mountains to rid themselves of whatever was bothering them in their current life?
I strolled onto the terrace and studied the river. It was the lake’s angsty cousin, taking no notice of anyone and rushing through life as people did in the big cities.
There was no sign of Theo.
Our mate, my bear interrupted my thoughts.
He is. But I couldn’t refer to him that way until he was or we were getting close to mating. Right now I was his tour guide, so it was a giant leap from where we were now to mating.
Wandering behind the hotel—technically I was trespassing, but the hotel was owned by a pack of wolf shifters and I’d been leading tour groups from here for years—I stared up at the windows overlooking the woods, wondering if one of them was Theo’s. But if it was, he didn’t appear, and I gave up, returning to the tour meeting place out front.
My heart jolted because Theo was here, wearingwhat I guessed was a brand new pair of boots. Hope he broke them in.
He caught sight of me and his eyes lit up. Or was that my imagination? Perhaps I saw what I wanted to. Of course, he noted my arrival as I was possibly the only person he knew in the group.
He raised his hand but froze mid wave as I stood in the middle of the crowd and introduced myself. After a brief speech and making sure everyone had water, a hat, comfortable shoes, and sketching paraphernalia if they needed it, we set off.
There was a lot of chatter at the beginning, and clients peppered me with questions. Theo didn’t say anything and lingered at the back of the group. I kept an eye on him and after fifteen minutes when we stopped at the gorge, a place where the river tumbled over boulders, people got out their sketch pads.
Theo plonked himself on the grass and winced as he removed one boot. Damn, he already had a massive blister and if he continued walking, he’d be hobbling and bedridden for days. Why did tourists think they were infallible? I bet if he bought a new pair of shoes for work, he’d wear them first before going into the office. Or was there no need for that?
“Is there a problem?”
His shame faced expression told me everything. “Made a mistake and didn’t wear my boots in.”
I kneeled in front of him and held his foot. He jerked back as if zapped by electricity. Shit!
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“No.” He shook his head, his voice more gravelly than moments earlier. “You didn’t.” A pink flush spread over his cheeks.
I pulled a jar from my pack and stuck a finger into the contents. “This is a salve made from my grandmother’s recipe. It will relieve the soreness and help heal the broken skin.”
I held up two fingers. “May I?”
He nodded but squirmed and his face became redder if that were possible as I spread the cream on his skin.
“I’m not hurting you, am I?”
“Not at all. You have what I call magic fingers.”
That was a first.
I removed his other boot and sock and rubbed the salve into the wounds.
“You can’t continue the hike, Theo.”
“No, I’m sure I can keep going.” He pulled on a sock, but I snatched his boots away.
“No.” If I had an assistant, they could continue guiding the group and I could help Theo return to the hotel. People had almost finished sketching, and we had to move on. But it was only three P.M. and the hike wasn’t due to finish for anothertwo hours.
“I have to continue with the group.” I recalled what happened with the woman who wore high heels. She’d refused to wait and insisted I take her to the hotel. So I got out my walkie talkie and contacted Chuck. Ever since the high heel incident, I’d given him a walkie talkie in case of emergencies. I pulled out a pair of flip-flops from my pack which I’d carried for the same reason.
“You can’t continue and I won’t leave you to walk back by yourself.” He was my client and my responsibility, even though the trail wasn’t remote and it was frequented by many hikers.
His eyes grew wide, and he glanced over his shoulder toward the trees. “Is it safe to sit here alone?”
I told him Chuck was on his way, but the group was getting antsy wanting to move on. I refused. The walkie talkie squawked. Chuck was close by. “He’ll be here in five minutes.”
