what little she did know about him was ... well ... impossible. She was jumping in too quickly. This wasn't like her at all. Normally she weighed all the sides of a situation, evaluated it like a proper scientist, and then made a decision. Something about that man sent her common sense running out the door. But what if she was making a terrible mistake?
She'd finally managed to drift off to sleep when the phone woke her. First it was a reporter, not local but from some sort of national news service. Then it was her boss with the Canadian Wildlife Service, who'd just found about about the crash and forgot she was in an earlier time zone. Then her mother. Ye gods. She unplugged the phone in the hotel room and put her cell phone on silent.
Under other circumstances, she might have enjoyed being able to tell the story over and over. Things had turned out just fine, after all; no one was hurt beyond a few bruises, and in the end, it had become one of those "only in Canada" stories to tell people over beers at the local bar.
Except for Nathan.
Nathan, who had her thoughts and feelings all tangled up. Nathan, who'd had mindblowing sex with her and then turned into a bear. She couldn't talk about any of that, which meant that her attempts to tell the story ended up faltering into uncertainty. She needed some time to get her head screwed on straight.
Her boss had been more than understanding when she said she wasn't sure if she could resume the bear survey immediately. "Of course not," he'd said. "You should come back to the city. Take some time off. See a therapist."
But she really didn't need any of those things, except maybe the time off. What she needed was to be able to think things over without people hassling her constantly.
Nathan would probably be up by now. She screwed up her courage and tried calling Polar Air.
Busy. She waited a few minutes, then tried again. Still busy. After that, she managed to get the answering machine. She thought about leaving a message, but couldn't quite bring herself to do it. And then it was busy again.
Great.
A knock on the door turned out to be another reporter, this one having managed, somehow, to find her hotel room. Good grief. She shut the door in his face, then stuffed her meager possessions into her duffel bag. She peeked outside the door, saw the reporter at the end of the hall trying to get cell reception, and crept quickly down the back stairs. She had to laugh at herself; here she was, making a clandestine escape from her own hotel room!
The nice lady at the front desk, who April was pretty sure was the owner of the hotel, was effusively apologetic that reporters were bothering her. "Some national news service came in on a chartered flight this morning. They've been all over town, I hear."
Oh, wonderful. "That's not why I'm checking out," April reassured her. "I just need, well, some time to put my head back together, I guess."
"I read about the accident," the woman said, tapping the newspaper on the desk that she'd been reading. April was horrified to see her face and Nathan's on the front page. "It must have been terrifying for you. No wonder you're ready to leave."
Good God, the whole town must know. She'd gone from being a usefully-anonymous visitor to a local celebrity. "I wasn't really that scared. Nathan is a good pilot." The woman didn't look convinced.
On the other hand, April thought, maybe it's better for everyone to think I'm having a freakout over being in a plane crash than to admit I'm struggling with the idea that I'm falling in love with a guy who turns into a polar bear.
She wished she had Nathan's cell number—did he even have a cell phone?—but maybe it was for the best. As much as she hated to leave without at least talking to him, she could call him just as well from Ontario, couldn't she? And maybe by that time she would've been able to think it through and she wouldn't be in quite so much of a muddle-headed mess. Every time she thought about
She'd finally managed to drift off to sleep when the phone woke her. First it was a reporter, not local but from some sort of national news service. Then it was her boss with the Canadian Wildlife Service, who'd just found about about the crash and forgot she was in an earlier time zone. Then her mother. Ye gods. She unplugged the phone in the hotel room and put her cell phone on silent.
Under other circumstances, she might have enjoyed being able to tell the story over and over. Things had turned out just fine, after all; no one was hurt beyond a few bruises, and in the end, it had become one of those "only in Canada" stories to tell people over beers at the local bar.
Except for Nathan.
Nathan, who had her thoughts and feelings all tangled up. Nathan, who'd had mindblowing sex with her and then turned into a bear. She couldn't talk about any of that, which meant that her attempts to tell the story ended up faltering into uncertainty. She needed some time to get her head screwed on straight.
Her boss had been more than understanding when she said she wasn't sure if she could resume the bear survey immediately. "Of course not," he'd said. "You should come back to the city. Take some time off. See a therapist."
But she really didn't need any of those things, except maybe the time off. What she needed was to be able to think things over without people hassling her constantly.
Nathan would probably be up by now. She screwed up her courage and tried calling Polar Air.
Busy. She waited a few minutes, then tried again. Still busy. After that, she managed to get the answering machine. She thought about leaving a message, but couldn't quite bring herself to do it. And then it was busy again.
Great.
A knock on the door turned out to be another reporter, this one having managed, somehow, to find her hotel room. Good grief. She shut the door in his face, then stuffed her meager possessions into her duffel bag. She peeked outside the door, saw the reporter at the end of the hall trying to get cell reception, and crept quickly down the back stairs. She had to laugh at herself; here she was, making a clandestine escape from her own hotel room!
The nice lady at the front desk, who April was pretty sure was the owner of the hotel, was effusively apologetic that reporters were bothering her. "Some national news service came in on a chartered flight this morning. They've been all over town, I hear."
Oh, wonderful. "That's not why I'm checking out," April reassured her. "I just need, well, some time to put my head back together, I guess."
"I read about the accident," the woman said, tapping the newspaper on the desk that she'd been reading. April was horrified to see her face and Nathan's on the front page. "It must have been terrifying for you. No wonder you're ready to leave."
Good God, the whole town must know. She'd gone from being a usefully-anonymous visitor to a local celebrity. "I wasn't really that scared. Nathan is a good pilot." The woman didn't look convinced.
On the other hand, April thought, maybe it's better for everyone to think I'm having a freakout over being in a plane crash than to admit I'm struggling with the idea that I'm falling in love with a guy who turns into a polar bear.
She wished she had Nathan's cell number—did he even have a cell phone?—but maybe it was for the best. As much as she hated to leave without at least talking to him, she could call him just as well from Ontario, couldn't she? And maybe by that time she would've been able to think it through and she wouldn't be in quite so much of a muddle-headed mess. Every time she thought about
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