Page 4 of Emergency with the Mountain Man
"Jake! She's doing wonderfully. Eating well, leg's healing perfectly. I've been in contact with a rehabilitation facility near Vancouver that specializes in orphaned cubs. They'll take her next week."
"That's great news." I gesture to the empty chair across from her. "Mind if I join you? I promise I'm not stalking you—my cousin and I were having coffee when you came in."
A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "Your cousin?"
"Maple Cordova. The redhead who’s trying very hard to look like she's not watching us."
Norma glances over at Maple, who waves cheerfully before attempting to hide behind her coffee mug. "Ah. The town's matchmaking committee in action?"
"Something like that. Small towns don't have much entertainment, so everyone gets invested in each other's love lives. Fair warning."
"I'll keep that in mind." She gestures to the chair. "Please, sit. I was just grabbing lunch before my afternoon appointments."
I settle across from her, trying to think of something intelligent to say that doesn't involve staring at her like a lovesick teenager. "How are you settling into Silver Ridge? Big change from Calgary, I imagine."
Something shadows her expression at the mention of Calgary, gone so quickly I almost miss it. "Different, yes. But good different. I needed a change of pace."
There's a story there, something that put wariness in her eyes and tension in her shoulders. Someone hurt her, badly enough that she moved provinces to get away from whatever happened.
The protective instinct that rises in my chest is immediate and fierce. I want to know who made her look like that, and I want to make sure they never get the chance to hurt her again.
"Silver Ridge has a way of healing people," I say carefully. "The mountains, the community, the pace of life here. It's good for starting over."
"Is that what you did? Start over?"
"In a way. I was working in corporate forestry in Vancouver, hating every minute of it. Moved here five years ago to work for alogging company that actually cares about sustainable practices. Best decision I ever made."
"Corporate forestry?" She leans forward slightly, interest replacing the wariness. "What made you hate it?"
"Clear-cutting old growth for maximum profit. No replanting, no consideration for wildlife habitat, no thought for anything beyond quarterly earnings. I got into forestry because I love trees and the outdoors. Watching forests get decimated for shareholder value was killing my soul."
"And your current company is different?"
"Completely. Selective harvesting, immediate replanting, wildlife corridor preservation. We take fewer trees but leave the forest intact. It's actually better for long-term profits, but most companies won't think past the next fiscal year."
The smile she gives me is radiant, transforming her entire face. "That's wonderful. I was worried when I heard you were a logger—so many wildlife habitats get destroyed by irresponsible forestry practices."
"You were worried about me?" The question slips out before I can stop it, and I feel heat rise in my cheeks.
"I was worried about the environmental impact of the logging operation," she corrects, but there's color in her cheeks too. "Though I'm glad to know the man who was so concerned about an injured bear cub also cares about protecting the forest."
"The forest is my livelihood, but it's also my home. You don't destroy something you love."
Our eyes meet across the table, and something electric passes between us. The air feels charged, full of possibility and the kind of attraction that doesn't come along often.
Then her phone buzzes, breaking the spell. She glances at the screen and sighs.
"Emergency call. Someone's cat got into a fight with something and needs stitches." She stands, gathering her purse. "It was good talking to you, Jake."
"You too." I stand as well, not ready for this conversation to end. "Maybe we could do this again sometime? I could show you some of the hiking trails around here, if you're interested. The wildlife viewing is spectacular."
She hesitates, and for a moment I think she's going to say yes. Then something shutters in her expression.
"I appreciate the offer, but I'm pretty busy getting the practice established. Rain check?"
It's a polite rejection, but a rejection nonetheless. I nod, trying to hide my disappointment. "Of course. Another time."
She leaves quickly, not looking back. I remain standing by her empty table, watching through the window as she climbs into her truck and drives away.
