Grizz turned toward her, interest in his eyes.
She’d said too much.
She closed her eyes, and an image of Josh popped into her head. The sound of a gunshot reverberated, and she saw him fall. In her mind—her memories. Her eyes sprang open. “Where’s Josh? He was with me. You just told me he arrived when I did.”
Grizz ladled some soup into a mug and placed it on an end table by the couch. He held out his hand to her. “Come sit on the couch and have some soup.”
She complied, mainly because her stomach let out a gurgle as if to prove the man’s point.
“Fine.” But she waved off his hand and stood on her own. She sank onto the plush sofa, which was pretty nice for a bachelor pad. At least, she assumed the mountain man wasn’t married. The place lacked throw pillows or homey décor. But it was warm, dry, and immaculate.
She took the mug of soup and wrapped her hands around the warm stoneware. He sat down at the other end of the couch. “I don’t know where Josh is. You were caught in a mudslide and hit a rock. You probably bumped your head when you tumbled down the mountain and crashed into that boulder.”
She ran a hand through her hair and felt the knot on her temple. “Josh. He’s still out there?”
This was her story, and she remembered talking Josh into going with her. Now he was missing?
Grizz met her eyes. “Look, I don’t know what you found when you and Josh hiked up Copper Mountain, but given how I found you, I think he’s in trouble.”
“We have to go search for him.” She tried to stand, but her legs betrayed her, and she ended up on the couch again.
Grizz looked out the front picture window, where fat drops pelted the glass. “The rain is getting worse. It must have knocked out a cell tower, because I have no signal here. I promise, we’ll go look for Josh once this storm slows down. Right now, visibility is zero.”
“Why should I trust you?” She took a spoonful of the soup, then downed the whole mug. When was the last time she’d eaten?
He sipped the soup. “Because I’m Grizz. We’ve met.”
She set the mug down on the end table—which was basically a repurposed tree stump—refusing to admit the soup had made her head quit pounding so much.
“You live here alone?” She nodded to the living room, complete with exposed wood beams and bare walls. She half expected a moose head to grace the mantel over the fireplace, but the decorations were minimal.
“I do. I spend a lot of time at base camp, but this place belonged to my grandparents, and after they passed away, I fixed it up and stay here when I’m not at base camp.”
She squinted as she listened to the man’s deep, gravelly voice. Fuzzy images parked themselves just out of reach. They had met.
All she remembered about their encounter was this man’s gruff demeanor. “Is Grizz your first or last name? Or a nickname?”
He chugged the remnants of the soup from the mug and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Flecks of broth bits littered his beard. “Grizz is my last name.”
“Do I get a first name?”
He shook his head. “No one knows my first name. And if they do, they don’t dare say it.”
She snorted. “I can see why you go by Grizz. You’re meaner than a grizzly bear.”
He walked over to her and invaded her space. She recoiled. He stooped, collecting her mug while meeting her at eye level. “Really? Have you ever come face-to-face with a grizzly bear before?”
He backed off and headed to the kitchen before she could form a sarcastic retort.
Have you met a bathtub and razor before?
Oh yeah, that was a good one. But probably best not to poke the bear-man. She looked down at her own mud-crusted attire and cringed. She was one to judge. Her INN jacket had a tear, and why was she wearing white—now brown—boots?
Grizz had busied himself in the kitchen area, which was basically a refrigerator and the two-burner stove. Did the man have a coffee maker? No way could she live this primitively.
Her stomach gurgled, and she prayed he hadn’t heard.
“Grizz. I need to use a bathroom.”
