Page 15 of Wrong Number, Right Cougar

“Don’t let me stop you,” was his response.

I wasn’t going to get butt naked and have him watch as I dunked my body in the cold lake water. Despite it being spring, Saul had informed me the lake was always cold, even at the height of summer.

Instead of removing all my clothes, I’d waded into the lake wearing my underwear. I could feel Wilder’s eyes on me. And yes, the water was freaking freezing, but I refused to yelp, instead swimming out a ways before turning around. He hadn’t moved, and I expected he’d tallied up points on my swimming style and speed.

A trolley rolled over the concrete outside my door, bringing me back to the present, and I heaved myself out of bed. As I stood under the lukewarm shower—the motel owner really needed to upgrade the building’s water heater—I was plagued with thoughts of how long I could continue to work beside Wilder and not throw myself at him.

But I reminded myself, I had to put my own feelings aside, because if he was appalled and downed tools, saying he couldn’t work with me, I’d be up shit creek without a paddle. Unable to do the repairs by myself and not having anyone to do the work with me.

Today I not only had breakfast at the diner but I bought lunch too and an extra coffee because this was going to be a multiple-coffee day. Not only was I tired from doing physical work, but resisting the urge to fling myself at Wilder took almost as much energy as ripping out old sinks and toilets.

Wilder was on site when I arrived. Not a surprise, as that was the norm. I wondered if he snuck back here at night and worked so he didn’t have me beside him.

It occurred to me Wilder might have a partner or a husband. He didn’t share anything about his relationship status, not that I did either, though I might have mentioned that I lived alone.

I raised a hand when he came into view and was greeted by a grunt. Wilder always had a thermos of coffee with him but never offered me a cup. I had my one additional coffee that was already cold, though I could heat it up in Uncle’s ancient microwave.

“Morning.” I didn’t add the word “good,” unsure if it was. Depending on how many grunts I received, I’d rate the morning.

“Mmmm.” That wasn’t bad. A one-grunt morning showed promise.

I tried to make conversation as we headed toward one of the cabins. “Do anything interesting last night?”

“Depends on what you call interesting.”

“Something out of the ordinary?”

“Nope.” He shut that line of conversation down pretty quickly.

“Tell me what the lodge was like in its heyday.” That was a subject that should give me more than a one-word answer.

“The cabins were booked all year round. In winter, guests went skiing, during summer, they swam and sailed. That was when the woods swarmed with cougars.”

“Wasn’t that a little dangerous? For people hiking?”

Now instead of a grunt, I got a growl, or maybe that was a snarl. I couldn’t distinguish between the two. Wilder stopped what he was doing, and I stilled my movements. I gulped, thinking of those long-gone cougars, sneaking up on me as I hiked the trails behind the lodge.

“No humans were ever hurt by the cougars.”

“Okay. Good to know.” My hands trembled as I pulled up dank, damp carpet and hurled it outside to the dumpster.

When I returned, I stood in the cabin doorway as Wilder yanked apart an old closet. He didn’t acknowledge me but brushed past me, dragging the wooden panels.

“I understand you worked for my uncle and you have no loyalty toward me. But I don’t understand why you hate me. We’re both just trying to restore the place.”

Wilder brushed dirt off his hands and using his upper arm, and pushed hair from his brow. He folded his arms. I understood that maneuver. He was protecting himself from me, maybe from the world.

“I don’t hate you,” he spat out through gritted teeth.

“Could have fooled me. You hardly talk to me, refuse to sit together at lunch time, and treat me like the enemy.”

“You know nothing.” His white-knuckled fingers were a sign he was holding back. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what he was keeping inside.

“Tell me.” I took a step toward him, and he clamped his teeth on his lower lip.

Wilder shrugged. “What is there to say?”

It was up to me, and I couldn’t keep my feelings bottled up inside any longer. Despite putting the renovations in jeopardy, I had to tell him and to heck with the consequences.

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