It was probably my paranoia and not reality, but for a split second, I could’ve sworn the room went silent, followed by a couple of “ohs” from the guys next to me, and then my new “friends” started talking amongst themselves over whether they were going to share a pitcher of beer or get their own.
It was like I’d never been here.
The server came, brought me my cola, and asked my food order. I took out my phone, pretending like I was scrolling, despite having crap service, and took in the atmosphere, trying not to feel too awkward about the guys next to me suddenly not acknowledging me.
A few more people came in dribbles. One was a man about my dad’s age, and I didn’t know why, but the man did not like me. I tried to convince myself it was in my imagination, but eyes didn’t lie.
He came and sat at the table with the guys next to me but didn’t really talk to them. He just stared at me. I started to tap on my notes app, hoping it looked like I was sending someone a message and maybe boring him enough to look anywhere else. It didn’t. His eyes were glued to me until the server brought my burger and asked him what he wanted.
“Just a draft.” He turned to the other men. “What’s his deal?”
“Polar bear freak,” someone behind him answered.
Great. That was how I’d come across. So much for easing my way into the community.
“I’m not a freak,” I snapped and instantly regretted it. Arguing back wasn’t going to make friends. “I’m doing studies.”
“Look,” he said, “some things around here are better left alone. Like the bears. You go poking bears, you know what happens.”
“I get eaten?”
“Yep. And no one will feel bad for you. Everyone knows not to poke a bear.”
I sensed that he would not only not feel bad for me but would be cheering the bears on.
“Got it. But for the record, I have no plans on poking a bear.”
The man stood up, looked me up and down, and walked out.
“I didn’t mean to upset him,” I said to the guys, but they acted as if I didn’t speak at all.
So I nursed my soda, picked at my burger, and waited for an opportunity to make conversation again, preferably with people who hadn’t seen that guy’s hostility.
This town was very protective of those bears. That was the only thing I learned about them during my time here. But then again, maybe that was enough because it would help me figure out better ways to go about my work and possibly prevent me from being eaten.
5
ASHER
The B&B was quiet when I let myself back in with my duffel bag slung over one shoulder. Bobby was nowhere in sight, probably in the kitchen or his private quarters. I climbed the stairs to room four and unpacked. I liked everything to have a place, so I put my clothes in the dresser and set out the toiletries in the bathroom. But where to put the knife I always carried? I tucked it under the pillow.
Once that was done, I poked my head outside the room and sniffed, hoping my mate had returned. But there was nothing except that faint stale aroma I’d picked up earlier. It clung to the walls, and I hoped the guy hadn’t left, because I didn’t foresee my life crisscrossing the country trying to pick up his scent.
My bear was anxious, saying I should give him his fur because he could track our mate better than I could. But that couldn’t happen in the guest house or in town. He decided us leaving to pick up my belongings was the problem, and if we’d stayed, we would have found our mate by now.
What if he doesn’t come back?
Now my bear’s panic was infecting me, and I raced downstairs. Bobby was behind the front desk reading a newspaper with his glasses perched on his nose.
He looked up. “All settled in?”
“Yes.” I headed toward the door. “I’m going to get food because I skipped lunch.
“Well, there’s only one place in town where you can get a coffee, a meal, and a beer in one place. And Mike, the owner, makes a mean burger, and don’t tell him I told you but his coffee is better than mine.”
I headed out into the cold. Being a polar bear, my beast relished being in the snow rather than cooped up inside.
The green awning outside the cafe was emblazoned with the name “Mike’s Place.” Voices drifted out from inside, along with the clink of glasses and people laughing. Pushing open the door, I was met with the smell of fried food and beer. But there was something else woven through them.
