There’s a spark in her brown eyes now. “Excuse me?”
“I mean, please don’t. It isn’t safe,” I say, attempting to smooth it over.
“Is it against the law?” Is it possible that her red hair is more red when she’s aggravated?
“No.” There isn’t a policy against it, but there are poachers in there with presumably loaded guns.
I'm trying to say as much when she steps away with a smile, the fire in her eyes only dimmed by a fraction. “Okay, then. Thanks again for the ride.”
“I’m—”
She cuts me off with a little wave, closing the door behind her.
My mouth hangs open while I stare at her white door.
Okay. Time to go back to the forest, Adam.
Later that evening, I’m back in the preserve and feeling monumentally stupid for a whole list of reasons. Besides that I was a bumbling idiot with Stevie this morning, now I’m wearing my ghillie suit and feeling awkward about it.
I’m already an unusually tall guy—sitting in an airplane is painful—but with the suit on I’m like a monster. I even have big feet, I realize with a cringe. My size-fourteen Lowa boots would fit a sasquatch. Maybe IamBigfoot. I frown, considering the similarities. I also like to hide in the woods, and I’m just as charming.
It’s okay. I don’t need to be charming. Right now, I need to blend into the bushes so that I can get confirmation of the litter of endangered New England cottontail rabbits that I suspect have a burrow nearby. I did the same thing last night and the night before with no luck.
Last fall I did everything I could to prepare the perfect habitat for them. I posted signs discouraging walking off the trails into the dense brush. I moved a few downed trees into the area. I provided plenty of places for rabbits to hide and start a family, safe from predators.
Cut to me, dressed as Bigfoot and looking for bunnies on a Saturday night.
I let out a long, frustrated exhale as I scan the dense brush in the dusky light. I never thought twice about my life until I met Stevie.
The woman who believes in Bigfoot,I remind myself for the thousandth time today.
A piercing ring cuts through the air, and I groan.
I forgot to turn my phone down. Rookie mistake. Well, that’s that for tonight’s rabbit watch. I dig my phone out of my pocket, which is no small trick in this getup. It’s Ruth. I swipe the screen.
“Hey, Sis,” I murmur. Even if my phone scared the rabbits, I want to keep my voice low so they feel safe—not that Ruth will let me get a word in.
“What’s up with the sexy voice?” she asks with a laugh.
“I’m on rabbit watch.”
“Again?” She’s already annoyed. “Dearest brother of mine, we need to get you out of those woods. It’s Saturday night.”
I purse my lips.
As usual, Ruth doesn’t need me to respond. I picture her finger twirling the end of her brown ponytail as she lectures me. “For Pete’s sake,stop touching grass. Please, please drive your truck to civilization, find a woman, and ask her on a date. I beg you.”
“I—”
“My kid is never going to have cousins,” she whines. “Aren’t there any women in Cape Georgeana?”
“Actually—”
“You know what, I’ll look.”
Ruth is my opposite in every way. I might need tostoptouching grass, but she needs to start. And I can tell she put me on speaker—my favorite. She’s distracted by whatever she’s doing on her phone.
“Okay, I’m looking through location tags on social media. This is tricky, because all I have to go on is the name of your town—oh! Here’s someone. Oh, wait. She has a husband. Hang on, I’m still looking.”
