Raising The Stakes (Heartwarming Romance) Read Free Page B

“Maybe. When I turned off my oven timer, I might have heard something. But it was faint and ended too fast for me to be sure.”
    “What time?”
    She glanced at the cuckoo clock beside her wall calendar, trying to remember. “Somewhere between nine and nine-thirty, I think. Was a bear shot?” Her throat tightened. “The mother?”
    His pen flew across his pad and his eyes, more hazel than green now that he was closer, rose to meet hers. A smattering of light freckles dotted his nose. “It’s possible. There are tracks and blood a couple hundred yards east. Looks like big game. Have you seen any strange vehicles or people around your property lately?”
    Her gaze swerved to the pepper spray still on her table, a ribbon of nerves moving through her stomach. She might well and truly have confronted an intruder last night. Someone armed. Again.
    She held herself, hiding her shudder.
    No. Not here. This remote, sleepy town was largely immune to random violence, a major factor in her decision to settle here rather than sell the house.
    “My neighbor Muriel and her husband have some nephews from the Midwest house-sitting while they’re away. The guys are here on a fishing trip.”
    His eyes narrowed. “Have you met them?”
    “No, just heard about it from Muriel. They’re her sister’s sons.”
    “Names?” His voice clipped, he sounded different from the guy who’d joked about a dog named Extra Pickles and high-fived Scooter. Back was the man who’d once ignored her pleas to let her keep feeding the animals last winter.
    A breeze rushed through the open window above her sink, carrying the crisp smell of a spring morning—pine sap, fresh earth and growing things. It loosened a strand from her bun and sent it fluttering across her mouth.
    She handed him a mug, then lifted her own. “She didn’t say. Just told me they’d visited during hunting season last fall and had come back to fish. Would you like a doughnut?” She cursed her ingrained manners, wishing she could give him the boot instead of baked goods.
    “Thanks.” He split one in half and dunked it in his coffee before taking a bite. “These are good.” He chewed another piece, his expression intent as he stared outside.
    She grabbed a dish towel and wiped up a bit of pie filling she’d missed last night. “Do you think they killed her?”
    He gulped more coffee and lowered his mug, his mouth in a straight line. “I’ll find out.”
    “What about the cub?”
    His gaze swerved to hers. “I’ll have to put it down if I can’t find the mother.”
    Vivie clutched the back of a chair, light-headed and nauseous. “What? No!” How could he say that so casually?
    “I’ve called around and our wildlife rehabilitators are overloaded. Since the cub is too young to fend for itself, the humane thing to do is—”
    “Kill it?” she stormed, interrupting. “How is that humane?” The cub’s frightened eyes came to mind and she backed up against the pantry door. Officer or not, he wouldn’t take the bear. Stop her from helping. It’d come to her home. Had sought refuge here.
    He pulled off his hat and rubbed his forehead. “Ma’am, I don’t expect you to understand. But you need to trust me and move aside so that I can do my job.”
    “Not a chance,” she ground out, wishing her pepper spray wasn’t across the room.
    “Please be reasonable.” He raised his eyebrows, looking harmless. His holstered weapon told a different story.
    Maybe she could reason with him, though she’d failed before. There had to be a way to save the cub. “How do you become a wildlife rehabilitator?”
    He drew in a long breath and crossed his arms over his chest. “Pass a certification test, then work under the supervision of a rehabilitator for six months.”
    Tests. She hated them. Had only ever done well on presentation-style exams in culinary school. Still, for the baby bear...anything. “And when is the next one?”
    “In a week.” He made a vague motion in