"We'll get it done." His confidence is unwavering. "Whatever it takes."
There's that intensity again, like this audit is about more than just his business. Like something larger hangs in the balance.
"Can I ask you something?" I set down my sandwich.
"Anything."
"Why construction? What made you follow in your father's footsteps?"
Cole considers the question, his green eyes thoughtful. "I like building things that last. Things people can depend on." He runs a hand through his black hair, slightly too long and perpetually disheveled. "Dad taught me that a well-built home protects what matters most. It's not just wood and nails. It's sanctuary."
The passion in his voice resonates with something inside me. "That's beautiful."
He looks almost embarrassed by his own eloquence. "What about you? Why emergency bookkeeping?"
"Less poetic reasons, I'm afraid." I smile, taking another bite of sandwich. "I'm good with numbers, better under pressure, and I enjoy the challenge of tight deadlines. Plus, the pay is excellent."
"No deeper meaning?" His eyes spark with something like amusement.
I shrug. "Maybe I like being the hero who swoops in to save the day. There's satisfaction in fixing things others can't."
"We have that in common, then."
I clear my throat and look away first.
"I should get back to work." I gather my empty plate. "Still so much to do."
Cole stands, taking the plate from my hands. "I need to check something at the construction site. Will you be okay here for a couple hours?"
"Of course. This is my natural habitat—me, paperwork, and silence."
He hesitates, seeming reluctant to leave. "If you need anything—"
"I'll be fine, Cole." I smile reassuringly. "Go do what you need to do."
After he leaves, the cabin feels strangely empty, though nothing has changed except the absence of his presence. I shake off the feeling and dive back into the financial records, determined to make significant progress before he returns.
Two hours stretch into three, and I've hit my stride, inputting data at record speed, creating order from Cole's chaotic filing system. The sun dips toward the horizon, casting long shadows through the office window, but I barely notice, lost in the flow of work.
A sudden noise outside makes me look up. Something large moving through the underbrush at the edge of the clearing. Probably a deer, I think, returning my attention to the screen.
The sound comes again, closer this time. A snapping branch, the rustle of leaves. I rise from the desk and move to the window, peering out at the deepening twilight.
At the edge of the tree line, something moves in the shadows. Something large and dark and—
My heart skips a beat as a massive black bear emerges from the forest. It pauses at the edge of the clearing, nose lifted to the air as if scenting something. I stand frozen at the window, heart now hammering in my chest. I've never seen a bear in the wild before. It's both terrifying and magnificent, at least 800 pounds of raw power and primal beauty.
As if sensing my gaze, the bear turns its head toward the cabin, toward my window. Our eyes meet across the distance, and a strange sensation washes over me—recognition, almost. Those eyes... an unusual green that seems to glow in the fading light.
For a long moment, we stare at each other, human and bear, separated by glass and space but connected by something I can't name. Then the bear turns and melts back into the forest as silently as it appeared.
I release a breath I didn't realize I was holding, my hands trembling slightly. Should I be worried? Is it normal for bears to come so close to homes here? Should I call someone?
Call who? The thought makes me laugh nervously. Cole is the local here, and he's not answering his phone. I tried earlier when I had a question about a receipt.
I return to the desk, but my concentration is broken. I keep glancing at the window, half-expecting to see the bear again. There was something about it, something in those strangely intelligent eyes that has left me unsettled.
By the time I hear Cole's truck in the driveway an hour later, the encounter has taken on a dreamlike quality. Maybe I imagined the whole thing, my mind playing tricks after hours of staring at spreadsheets.
