“It’ll be dark in a few hours. We should go.” Noah stomped toward the exit without waiting for a response. He didn’t offer to take my Louis Vuitton luggage. He didn’t even check to see if I was keeping up. He stalked toward the door like a man on a mission to get as far away from me as possible.
“Sorry about him,” said Brie. “He’s usually not so … actually, never mind. Heisalways so grumpy. But if it makes youfeel any better, it’s not personal. Not entirely. He hates everyone at LuxeLife.”
“Why would your brother hate everyone at LuxeLife?”
“Long story.” Brie pointed toward her rapidly retreating brother. “You’d better hurry if you want to catch up. He’s not only grumpy; he’s also impatient.”
Tripping over my suitcase in boots that were not made for scurrying, I caught up to Noah just as he pushed through the airport’s main doors, the mountain air reminding me once again what real breathing felt like.
“You weren’t going to wait for me?” I called to Noah’s muscled back.
“I already did,” he replied, without slowing or turning. “For about four hours.”
“You could at least offer to help carry my bag.”
“I could,” he admitted. He kept walking.
“Oh, my God!” I screeched to a halt, stopping dead in my tracks.
“What now?” Noah scowled as he spun around.
I pointed. “Whoo …”
“Whoo?”
I wiggled my finger, pointing behind him. “Whuuh …”
“Whuuh?”
“Whoo … whuuh … wolf,” I whispered, poking my finger over his shoulder as I hid behind his back.
Noah turned back, now face-to-face with a monstrous beast. It had thick fur in streaks of grey and white. Its crystal blue eyes were both wild and cunning. And its teeth … big teeth. Sharp teeth. Teeth dripping with slobber.
Noah looked at the wolf, then back at me. He started crying.
W.T.F.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The big toughmountain man was driven to tears when confronted with something bigger and badder than he was. Clearly, I had misjudged him.
But then I realized he wasn’t crying.
He was laughing.
And then he was crying.
Crying because he was laughing so hard.
“You’re laughing? Why are you laughing?” That’s when I realized he wasn’t just laughing, he was laughing at ME. “What the hell is so funny? We’re about to get eaten by a WOLF!” I pointed at the ferocious beast, right in front of us, just in case Noah hadn’t seen it.
Ignoring me, Noah exhaled sharply, creating a loud whistle through his teeth. At first, I thought maybe it was some sort of advanced mountain man wildlife deterrence technique. But instead of deterring the wolf, Noah’s whistle did the opposite. It prompted the beast to charge.
As I cowered behind Noah’s broad, muscle-laden body, hoping the wolf wasn’t planning aLittle Red Riding Hoodreenactment with my face, I remembered Brie’s bear tip, hoping it applied to wolves too. I didn’t have to outrun the thing; I just had to outrun Noah. I wasn’t entirely sure of Colorado etiquette in wild animal attack scenarios, but I assumed, like in Los Angeles, it was an “every woman for herself” type situation.
But before I could even move, the wolf lunged. Noah fell to his knees, and the wolf began devouring his head. Its tongue slobbered all over Noah’s face. One of its massive paws perched on one of Noah’s massive shoulders as its tongue licked his neck.
But instead of screaming in terror, Noah was … laughing?
And instead of fighting for his life, Noah was … petting it?
