Before Hanna and I can head back inside, Gabe and his wife Lucy appear on the broad front porch of their house, descend the steps, and stroll our way.
At the same time, two cars—one with my brother Brody and my mom, and the other with my brothers Clark and Kane, pull into the gravel lot.
It’s a Wilder quorum.
In the Wilder way, everyone greets one another with big hugs, like it’s been weeks since we’ve gathered, instead of less than twenty-four hours.
“Bear’s inside,” I inform them, pointing to the barn that houses headquarters. Both the barn and Gabe’s house used to be part of the old ranch; my granddad sold off the land to build this business. Now, through a series of twists and turns, my brothers and I own most of it—and run it.
“What are you two doing out here?” Gabe—aka the boss—demands. “You should be inside treating him like royalty. Please don’t tell me you were squabbling in front of him.”
“No!” we both say at exactly the same time, and too vehemently.
He looks from me to Hanna and back again, eyes narrow.
“Swear,” Hanna says, crossing her heart.
“I better not hear otherwise,” Gabe mutters.
We all head inside, where Gabe greets Bear with what I know from experience is a bone-crunching handshake and introduces him around.
Bear nods with each new person. “You’ll have to excuse me if I get you all mixed up a few times at first,” he says. “I’m not the best with names and faces.”
“No worries,” Gabe says. “We’re a lot.”
“I’ve got Barb, Lucy, and Hanna down.” Bear smiles at each as he names them. He turns to Hanna last, and his smile lingers on her.
Hanna blushes.
Wait. A. Second.
No, I didn’t imagine it. Yes, her cheeks are definitely pink. Even after Bear turns his gaze back to the rest of us, surveying the Wilder-brother landscape with understandable confusion, her eyes stay on his face.
Hanna has a crush.
Hanna has a crush.
I think back to earlier. If I hadn’t been so torqued over the fact that Hanna overheard my conversation with Bear, I would have paid more attention to her behavior. And then I would have registered the fact that it was tremendously un-Hanna-like to say, “I’m a huge fan of yours.”
It’s un-Hanna-like to have a crush at all. In all the time I’ve known her, she never has, or at least not that I’ve been aware of. I know she’s gone on a few dates this year, but I’ve never gotten the impression that any of those men or women have registered on her Richter scale of hopefuls.
Truth is, I’ve always wondered what it would take to bring Hanna Hott to her knees.
Apparently, all it takes is a celebrity chef-slash-forager with a thick and expensively barbered beard and clothes that are meant to look like “I stumbled out of a tent in what I wore yesterday” but probably cost a thousand dollars.
Also, for years I’ve coveted the hiking boots he’s wearing. I know they ring in at five hundred.
I feel a stab of irritation toward Bear, which makes zero sense, because of course a famous YouTuber and influencer would put a lot of effort into his appearance.
And if I get the job with Bear, I’ll be doing the same thing. Five-hundred-dollar hiking boots, here I come.
Bear delivers a spiel about himself. He was a chef first, then discovered foraging and started vlogging about it. Before long, he’d turned it into a whole survivalist-chef schtick on YouTube, and after he spent three months in the woods, living off gourmet meals, his channel went viral.
“I’m going to run these trips just like what you see on my show. Hike in, forage for what’s in season—berries, ferns, nettles, miner’s lettuce, you know the deal. We do a bit of fishing with homemade rods and snaring with homemade traps. Then we cook it up over an open flame. We won’t know in advance what we’re going to find or what we’re going to be eating—that’s the most exciting part.”
He scans the table. “Clark, right?” He makes eye contact with my middle brother. “This is your thing, isn’t it?”
“Not the way you do it,” Clark says. “Not where it’s a gourmet feast.”
Bear grins, a flash of white teeth. It’s clear why this guy’s show took off. He’s charismatic. Dynamic. “That’s the part I love. It’s a lot of improv, a lot of brainstorming, a lot of taking input from the participants. I enlist everyone’s help—gathering, collecting, coming up with recipes. People get into it, really into it, and that part’s a thrill, too.”
I catch another round of admiring glances from the women at the table. Including Hanna, whose mouth is open. Lush lower lip sagging in awe and, I’d wager, lust.
Gabe nods. “You tell us what you need, we’ll make sure you have it.”
Bear’s gaze circles our group. “I’d appreciate a couple of co-leaders, like we talked about. Frees me up to focus on filming and the workshop—”
“I want to do it,” Hanna says.
The fact that Hanna doesn’t give a shit about the normal rules of engagement gives her an unfair advantage in fights to the death.
“Hanna would be a great choice,” Bear says, giving her another warm smile. She pinks up again. Hanna has very light skin and very dark hair, and when she sunburns or blushes, it’s obvious. And pretty, all roses-and-cream. Like a round-cheeked Snow White.
I frown at myself for this weird flight of fancy.
Bear is still eyeing Hanna appraisingly. “My viewers would love seeing you on camera.”
Her blush deepens.
“A woman kicking ass in the woods is a selling point,” he goes on.
Hanna’s shoulders slump, just a degree—pretty sure no one but me even noticed. I’m simultaneously annoyed at Bear for leading her on with that first flirty sentence and at Hanna for letting herself be led.
When Hanna is brought to her knees, she apparently goes hard.
But I won’t let my sympathy for Hanna weaken my position in this fight. Ever since Kane shared his revelation last year that what he really wants to do is photography, I’ve been wrestling with wanting to find my own path, too, outside the Wilder Adventures world. As the youngest Wilder, and the perennial class clown, I always struggle. I’m pretty sure that as long as I’m Baby Wilder, I’ll never be taken seriously. Hence wanting to find a whole new direction for myself in the Bear Warden empire.
“I’d like to be one of the co-leaders,” I chime in. “I bet my TikTok and YouTube experience would be a big asset.” I launch a triumphant glance across the table at Hanna, who rolls her eyes.
Gabe’s eyebrows go up as he looks from Hanna to me. “You both want to do this. The two of you.” It’s not a question. It’s an expression of apprehension and disbelief.
Just like Hanna said, Gabe will not want to put the two of us on a trip together.
Bear nods my way. “I’ve seen Easton’s TikToks and YouTubes. He’s got a strong presence on video.” He looks from me to Hanna. “And I love your enthusiasm, both of you.” He turns to Gabe next. “If you can spare these two, I’d love to work with them.”
Hanna and I exchange startled glances. It hadn’t occurred to either of us that Bear would go to bat for both of us as a team and make it difficult for Gabe to refuse him.
If Gabe can’t refuse Bear and lets us work together… we’ll both get what we want.
But also, we’ll be stuck in the woods together while I try to get a job from Bear, and she tries to… get… whatever it is she wants from him.
Hanna, who has presumably reached the same conclusion, looks as alarmed as I feel.
For once, we’re in agreement.
As soon as the meeting breaks up, I head back to my cube. Hanna trails me.
“Why are you following me?”
“No reason,” she says, shrugging.
“Well, stop.”
But she stays half a step behind me, and I can still feel her breathing down the back of my neck when I step into my work area and see…
Holy shit.
She has sticky-noted my entire cube. Every. Last. Square. Inch.
And there’s a big box of Morning Rush Coffee and donuts on my (sticky-noted) chair.
“Happy birthday,” she says, shrugging.
I’m oddly touched. First of all, Hanna is the only one so far to remember that it’s my birthday, which is not an uncommon problem in a family with six kids. But also, Hanna is not an early riser, and she’s not a methodical person. Not the kind of person you would imagine painstakingly sticky-noting an entire cubicle. Definitely not in the earliest hours of the day.
“You must have had to get up at, what, like, three a.m. to do this?”
“Don’t get too weepy,” she says. “I ate five of your donuts. I forgot breakfast.”
I swallow a laugh.
Gabe sticks his head in.
“Whoa,” he says, surveying my rainbow territory. And then, “Jesus. Hanna. Did you do that? That glue better not ruin any office property.”
We both roll our eyes. Usually we roll them at each other, but Gabe has the power to make us roll them in tandem, and at him.
“Can I see both of you in my office?”
We skulk there, stealing glances at each other that say, Do you know what this is about? Nope, me neither.
Once we’re seated across from him, Gabe cuts to the chase:
“If I let you two co-lead these Bear trips, and that’s a big if, I better not hear that either of you, or more to the point both of you, have been a distraction. Like pranks,” he says, giving Hanna the evil eye.
He doesn’t know about the terrarium I installed in her file drawer on her last birthday. Her sticky notes are an excellent rejoinder.
Gabe scowls even deeper. “Or what happened on the singles trip.”
“In fairness,” I respond, “the campers on that trip loved us.”
We’re both referring to the singles adventure that Hanna and I led together. Everyone raved about the outing on the feedback forms—“especially the absolutely adorable squabbling married couple who led it.”
Hanna and I had looked in horror at each other when we saw ourselves referred to as married.
Squabbling, we could live with.
In fairness, I can see the comparison to an old married couple. We do fight like people who’ve been at each other’s throats for fifty years. Although I think we’re more like two puppies in the same litter. We’ve known each other since kindergarten; we’re both youngest children; and we’re used to defending our tiny sliver of personal territory in big families. Plus, we’re opposites in almost every way—she’s grumpy and blunt and a scrappy fighter, and I’m charming and flirtatious—to a fault.
“And you,” Gabe says, aiming a fierce glare at me, like he somehow heard my internal monologue. “You in particular need to be careful not to draw attention away from Bear. He has to be the main attraction on these trips. Got it?”
Those same feedback forms from the singles trip also featured an outraged man who wanted his money back because I’d flirted with too many women on that trip, thus depriving him of his rightful chance to—no kidding, his words, “bag a babe like I paid for.”
Credit where credit is due: Gabe did call up the guy and have a serious conversation with him about his entitlement and the need to respect women, which couldn’t have been fun.
But he’s never quite let it go.
“That wasn’t Easton’s fault.”
Hanna’s defense startles me. I give her a questioning look, and she gives me a slight nod in return. Usually, Hanna’s on the other side of this argument—trying to get me in trouble with someone or other. I guess she’s decided the best way to get what she wants is for both of us to get what we want, and she might not be wrong. “He wasn’t flirting. He was just being himself.” She pauses and shoots me a sideways look. Uh-oh. So much for supportive. I can see mischief coming. “He can’t help it if women fall out of their clothes around him.”
“See, this is exactly what I’m talking about,” Gabe says in exasperation. “I can’t possibly send both of you on another trip together. Hanna—”
We don’t get to find out what he’s about to say, whether he’s about to dismiss her or appoint her.
“I think it’s perfect.”
Lucy, Gabe’s wife and the architect of Wilder Adventures’ current marketing plan, stands in the doorway.
“We know from those feedback forms that campers find these two adorable. Why wouldn’t Bear’s guests and his YouTube audience feel the same way? I think they’re perfect for the Wilder vibe.”
All three of us stare at her.
“They’re funny, they’re fun, they’re high-spirited, and they’ll both look great on camera.”
“You’re talking about me, right?” Hanna asks Lucy. “No one has ever said I was photogenic.”
“I beg to differ, hon,” Lucy says. “With your coloring?”
Ah. So I’m not the only one who thinks Hanna looks like Snow White.
Lucy shrugs. “I mean, it’s not like you have other volunteers, either. Clark and Brody are booked solid, Kane’s up to his ears in photography and fatherhood—Easton, you’ve got a fair amount on your schedule, true, but it dovetails pretty nicely with Bear’s workshop schedule. And Hanna’s basically free. Unless you’re thinking of going,” she says, giving Gabe a look that very clearly suggests he’d better not be, not with a toddler at home.
Gabe might have stood a chance against the two of us, but he’s hopeless when it comes to Lucy. We’ve all known that ever since she arrived in Rush Creek to help Wilder Adventures capitalize on our town’s new wedding-and-spa tourists—and went head-to-head with him.
He throws up his hands. “Okay,” he says. “I think it’s a terrible idea, but if we listened to me, we’d be out of business right now. Best business decision I ever didn’t make was hiring Lucy; best professional development I ever undertook was learning to listen to her.” He eyes both of us. “You guys are going into the woods together. Please don’t kill each other. And for pity’s sake, don’t make me regret this.”
“We won’t,” Hanna and I say at the same time.
We don’t look at each other. I think we both know that’s a promise neither of us feels confident making.