Bear Meets Bride (R) - Amy Star Page 0,7

masks to her, as far as he could tell. What you saw was what there was, and it was refreshing. She was even more sure-footed over the uneven terrain of the island than he seemed to be.

“Well, I’m going out on a limb here,” he said and lowered his voice, and she craned her head toward him in kind, “and you must never tell anyone. Especially Chris… but I write a lot of poetry. I’m quite prolific, actually.”

Sarah let out the beginning of a boisterous laugh and quickly covered her mouth with both hands and gave him a tremulous look. Up ahead, Chris’ head half-turned toward them, but then went back to leading the trail.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

He gave her a look. “You can make up for that by telling me something about yourself, then. Also, unofficial,” he said, giving her the ultimatum with a good-natured tone.

“Okay,” she said, “but let me think. I feel like it should be something good… I owe you that much. Ask me again, sometime, ‘k?”

He nodded and chuckled. Alright, I’ll bite.

After giving her a tour of the nearby area: the waterfall that fed the small creek by the cabin, the cabin itself, the little garden that Chris and Dylan had tried to plant with little success, it was already time for dinner.

Time flies, Sarah thought to herself, remembering the pilot’s sage advice. She hadn’t liked the idea of coming to the island in the first place but she was surprised at how quickly her opinion had changed. Misery loves company, she felt like reiterating. All three of them were stuck here together, and that, more than anything else, seemed to tie them all together.

Chris was an amazing cook and she was delighted in the strange cuisine he had prepared for them. She had expected dry rations, the sort that were occasionally dropped off by the float plane every month or so. But instead, the burly patron had a selection of fresh grilled salmon with a garlic sauce of his own invention, combined with a stew that had a variety of fresh herbs and vegetables he had stocked up on or foraged off the island itself, like sorrel, salal and several pungent but hearty kinds of mushroom.

“Delicious!” she exclaimed, ladling some to her large lips.

“Well, thank you. I’m glad someone appreciates it,” Chris said.

“What are you talking about? I always compliment you on your cooking skills,” Dylan admonished. “As for me, I’d burn water if left to my own devices. Add that as another unofficial detail.”

Both Sarah and Chris laughed. “Well, I’m sure your mate feels lucky to have you,” Sarah blurted, and took a bite off the grilled salmon. She didn’t seem to notice the stillness that had filled the room until she looked up and saw Dylan staring down at his food with that scrunched up look on his face again. Chris merely smiled thinly, and picked up their empty soup bowls.

“I’ll go start washing,” he offered hurriedly. Sarah stood up but he quickly said with a firmness in his voice, “No, no, don’t worry… you’re our guest, you stay.”

She waited until he’d gathered the dishes and headed down to the creek before speaking. “What was that about?” she hissed at Dylan.

“… I should have warned you, I’m sorry. My fault. But that’s kind of a sore topic for Chris. Suzy… er, his mate. She uh… she died,” he said softly.

“Oh, geezus.”

“There was no way you could’ve known,” Dylan shook his head.

“Still,” a pained look spread on her face. “Aw, shit. Great impression, huh?”

He gave her a weak smile. “Don’t let it get to you. He’ll be fine. And now you know.”

“This must be awful for him,” she said, and saw Dylan raise an eyebrow. “I mean, you’re finishing your training. And that means…” she blushed, “well, you know. Finding a mate. And… anyway, I was just thinking, must be hard for him. Kind of like living it all over again.”

Dylan hadn’t thought about that. He frowned, suddenly feeling ashamed. He hadn’t even hesitated about asking Chris to be his patron and to join him on the island. And of course, Chris had said yes, how could he say no. I’m such an idiot, Dylan realized. Suddenly felt a bit sick to his stomach. He pushed the remains of his grilled salmon away and both he and Sarah fidgeted in their silence.

“Speaking of training,” he offered after a spell, trying to break the tension, “what uh… what sort of training did you get? All