W.T.F.
Noah stood up and patted the head of the creature, whichmiraculously sat calmly at his feet without ripping his hand off. The animal, which was roughly the size of a small horse, looked at me with intelligent eyes that seemed to calculate how many calories I contained if it consumed me.
“You and the wolf are friends?”
“Yeti’s not a wolf. She’s a Siberian Husky, German Shepherd mix.”
“Her name is Yeti?”
“Yup.”
“Seems to fit,” I said.
“Want to pet her?” Noah was getting far too much joy out of my terror.
“I think I’m good.”
Yeti looked me straight in the eye and licked her lips, a move that seemed more like a threat than a moisturizing technique.
“So the airport people just let that thing hang out here?”
Noah patted the wolf’s … I mean the dog’s … head. “Well, they tried to stop her once, but she ate them.”
It took me a moment to realize he was joking. For the first time since I spit coffee all over him, then moonshine, Noah smiled. Anactualsmile. Of course, his smile was at my expense. “Colorado is very pet friendly,” he said, as if that explained why no one stopped him from bringing a barely domesticated wolf-beast onto public property.
Yeti was still staring at me like I was a pile of chopped liver. She licked her lips again. Then smiled. It felt like an intimidation tactic.
“I don’t think she likes me.”
“Hmm.” Noah rubbed his stubbled, chiseled chin. “And she’s usually such a good judge of character.” He gave Yeti another pat. “You know, the key with animals is not to show fear.”
“I literally just cowered in fear. Actual cowering.”
Noah smirked. “I’m over there.”
I followed Noah toward the parking lot, keeping one eye on the wolf dog. He fished his keys out of his pocket as he approached …oh crap… the piece-of-shit Jeep I saw when my plane landed. The one that looked like it got kicked down the side of a mountain.
“Oh, no. Absolutely not.” I planted my boots on the pavement.
Noah didn’t hear me, or he didn’t care. He held his hand out for my bag. “Need to strap it to the roof or she’ll slobber all over it.”
Yeti batted her eyes innocently.
Now that I was closer, I could see the Jeep lacked a separate trunk area for proper luggage storage. It also didn’t have proper doors. Or any doors, period. There were only two seats, and judging by the amount of dog hair, one of them belonged to Yeti.
“I’m not getting into that deathtrap. I’d rather walk.”
Noah’s expression suggested I’d just proposed something either incredibly amusing or incredibly idiotic. Probably both. He pointed at one of the snow-capped mountains in the distance. “Theresortis twenty-five miles that way. Better hurry, though. You don’t want to get caught out here after dark.”
I rolled my eyes and scoffed. “Let me guess, that’s when all the polar bears come out.”
“I was talking about the mountain lions,” said Noah. “Only bear out here is black bear. Not that I’d want to tangle with one of them either.”
“I guess we have a problem, then.” Sticking out my bottom lip, I called his bluff with the confidence of someone who had no clue how poker worked.
“Wedon’t have a problem.Youhave a problem.”
But I caught something in his peripheral vision — a quick glance toward my abandoned suitcase, then back to me. It lasted maybe half a second, but there was something almost protective in that glance. Like he was cataloging my vulnerability and filing it away for later consideration.
