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Daphne ran for the patio door as Tika fell in beside her. At this moment, there was one—and only one—thing that Chris should be thinking about.
Holy shit, the film crew is being attacked by a grizzly!
This was not what he was thinking about. At least, not more than tangentially, as he was quite certain they were only being menaced by a grizzly, which was bad, but not the same as an active mauling.
Instead, he was thinking about Daphne, who had gone from stress-puking and stress-sobbing to charging out the door to stave off a grizzly. If he’d been the type, he might have swooned.
He was also thinking of the last time he’d made a girl cry. Seventh grade. She’d asked him to dance, and he’d said no—not because he didn’t want to dance with her but because he had no idea how to dance. He’d found her crying in the cloakroom, which could have been the start of a very sweet middle school romance, if her friends hadn’t threatened to kick the shit out of him.
Now he’d not only made Daphne cry but vomit—the latter definitely being a first, and not a proud one. He’d handled his confession all wrong. He wanted to tell her before he screwed up, and in his panic he hadn’t stopped to realize he could have muddled through a little longer and found a better time.
And now there was a bear. Well, probably a bear. Was it wrong if he was thinking this might actually be a good thing? Not if the film crew got hurt, obviously, but maybe they’d decide they had enough footage and leave. Then he’d be alone with Daphne to talk about where they’d go from here. And… well, he’d be alone with Daphne.
A small grizzly scare. Was that too much to ask for?
Daphne was down the porch steps and running toward the babble of raised voices. As they raced across the open yard, Chris had the thought that he really should get in the lead. He was Zane Remington. He ate bears for breakfast.
Except… and here was where sometimes being a smart guy got in the way of masculine heroics. His brain quite reasonably told him that Daphne was the bear expert, and if he raced into the lead, he’d be the one needing rescue. Better to stay at her heels, ready to offer help and support… and screaming, if required.
Speaking of screaming…
They rounded a cluster of trees to see Sofia pressed up against a tree, babbling in terror while her two camera operators filmed. That was all Chris could see. Sofia and the crew. Not a bear—or beast—in sight.
Daphne and Chris both stopped, and Chris frowned. Were they faking an animal attack for the segment?
“Oh God.” Sofia’s eyes rounded as she saw Chris. “Wh-what is that thing?”
Chris followed her gaze. There, in the tree, was a lump of brown that he’d initially mistaken for a squirrel nest. When he peered at it, beady eyes peered back. A short snout opened to reveal yellowing rodent fangs.
“The porcupine?” He said the word slowly, as if she might actually be looking at a grizzly he couldn’t see.
“That is not a porcupine. It’s as big as that dog!”
Not quite, but he got her point. Including its tail, the beast was nearly three feet long.
“That’s a normal-size porcupine,” he said. “Maybe you’re thinking of hedgehogs? They don’t live in this part—”
“J-just do something. Quick. Before it shoots quills at me.”
“That’s a misconception. You need to get close enough for them to hit you with their tail, which can embed and release quills. If you recall that scene in Edge, where Theo—”
He caught Daphne’s head shake. The media-training package instructed them to connect all interviewer questions to the book, but yes, this probably wasn’t the time.
Chris cleared his throat. “You’re far enough away—”
“N-no, it’s going to attack.”
He looked at the camera duo, still filming, and he briefly wondered whether this was a setup. Novelist saves interviewer from deadly quilled rodent. But the terror on Sofia’s face seemed genuine. In that case…
“All right,” he said, deepening his voice an octave and taking on his authoritative Zane tone. “I’m going to step between you and the beast, while staying out of quill range. Once I’m between you, get out of the way. If it attacks, it’ll come for me.”
He glanced at Daphne, who nodded her approval. As for the porcupine, he swore the critter rolled its eyes. It was just sitting in the tree, shooting them nothing except baleful looks.
“I’m coming over,” he said, and then did exactly that, sidestepping with exaggerated care. “Now, while I said they need to hit you with their tail, it is possible for quills to come dislodged if they lash their tails in anger, which may give rise to the quill-shooting myth. You’ll recall that’s what happened in Edge, which was actually based on an encounter I had myself, deep in the forest. I was confronted by an entire family of porcupines intent on—” He stopped short, mostly because he had no idea where to take that story. “And now I am between you and the beast. Take two steps backward, and Dana will whisk you to safety, while I monitor for signs of attack.”
Daphne sidled over as cautiously as he had. The porcupine watched her, unconcerned.
“No,” Chris said for the cameras as he glared at the porcupine. “Do not look their way. Your attention is on me. I am the threat. Eyes on me.”
