Goldie and the Three Wisconsin Bears

“You mean that piece of shit we found on our property line belonged to you?” the guy with his hand still over his eyes asks. His voice is so low and growly, it doesn’t feel like I was wrong at all to mistake him for a bear.

“I’m sorry for leaving it there without a note,” I tell him. “I wasn’t aware I broke down on private property.”

“Still don’t explain why you’re buck naked in our cabin,” Bear Man replies.

I’d call his tone grumpy, but I have a bad feeling that’s just how he talks.

“Well, without a car, I didn’t know what else to do. The thing is that car is kind of my home for the time being. So I broke into your house.”

The dark-haired man’s expression instantly goes from confused to sympathetic. “You were living in your car? It’s freezing in here. Here take my coat.”

He strips out of his coat and comes forward to hold it out to me.

I accept it gratefully. He’s right, it is cold, and his jacket feels amazing. The material inside is soft and still warm from his body heat. Plus, it smells like expensive cologne.

“I was only planning on staying the night,” I tell the kind stranger as I zip up the jacket. “And I was going to send you money for the window after I got to where I was going and found a job.”

“And where is that exactly?” the blond asks. His tone isn’t mean, like Bear Man’s, but it’s suspicious.

“I’d rather not say,” I answer.

“Why? Because the plan was to rob us all along?” Bear Man asks, lowering his hand to glare at me.

He’s actually more handsome than he appeared when he was waving his gun. He’s way over six feet, and the beard seems to be covering a strong and angular jaw. If you squinted just right, you could easily spot the hottie hanging out underneath all the scruff.

But his words are ugly. I draw back, offended, even though I know I have no right to be, considering the situation.

The dark haired nice guy throws me an apologetic look. “Ignore Jeb. He’s not good with strangers.”

“Especially when they break into our house,” Jeb says between clenched teeth.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,” I say again. “If you can just give me a ride to whatever auto shop you took my car to, I’ll get right on out of your hair.”

“We hauled it to the junkyard,” Jeb answers, without any remorse whatsoever.

What? My stomach collapses at his announcement. “But that was my car!”

“Your engine was toast,” the blond one tells me, his tone gentling a little.

“Also, it’s a shitty little Chevy Nova,” Jeb adds. “Fixing it will cost more than the damn thing’s worth.”

“Okay, but I’ve got to fix it,” I answer. “It’s all I have. So when you say more than it’s worth…how much are we talking?”

“We’d ask Craig over at the closest auto shop to give you a discount, of course,” the friendly dark-haired one answers. “But even with that, you’re looking at two to three thousand dollars if you want to get it drivable again.”

“Which you shouldn’t,” Jeb says. “The only thing that car’s good for is scrap.”

“Two to three thousand dollars?” I repeat, trying not to throw up. Even if it was safe to use my debit card, that’s twice as much as what was in our shared bank account. Tommy made good money as a police sergeant. But he spent a lot of his paycheck on going out to eat, his mortgage, and a bunch of other expenses I’d learned to stop asking about.

I consider some alternatives, like asking for a ride to Duluth. Maybe I could get a bus from there. But who would agree to drive a stranger who’d broken into their house that far? And who even knows if there’s an international bus station there? And say there is, then how will I get to my aunt’s house without a car?

I don’t have a phone. I know nothing about Ontario’s public transportation system, and I’m not even sure my aunt lives in Thunder Bay anymore. I haven’t heard from her in years. Not since she came down for my mother’s funeral. And when I tried to call the only number I had for her to let her know I was coming for a visit, it wasn’t in service.

But I took a chance. Tommy didn’t know about her like he knew about my best friends and fellow former state princesses, Cynda and Billie. So I hoped she might be a safe haven I could run to, then take the time to plan for the future.

No, I can’t take my chances. I’m so close to Canada. “I need that car.”

I don’t realize I’ve said that out loud until the possible Latino guy answers. “So you want us to tow it to Craig’s? We can do that. But can you guarantee that you have the money to fix it?”