Bella

How long do you stand at the baggage carousel watching the same black piece of luggage which isn't yours go around and around and around?

No matter how many times I check the tag, it always has the same name – Jean Simmons – which just makes me think about KISS, and want to sing Rock 'n Roll All 'Nite over and over again in my head.

And, about a half an hour is the answer, by the way to that first question. It's enough time that every single person on the flight has collected their bags and left the airport.

Of course mine would be the luggage that didn't make it.

I'm unimpressed with the baggage attendant at the Air Canada counter who doesn't seem to care that my entire wardrobe is lost God only knows where.

He simply shrugs his shoulders, hands me a delayed baggage card, and says, "It happens."

Apparently, I should hear from them within five business days.

Five days! Without any of my clothing.

Off to a fantastic start, Bella.

Annoyed, tired, and just wanting to get my new job, I pick up my rental – a huge, rugged, and very red Chevy Tahoe, and head out to Hope, British Columbia.

My new employers had given me detailed directions, and I've programmed the GPS, but I'm still leery about driving in a new place.

Also, I'm not used to driving a car like this. I had an old beat up, two-door Hyundai back in Toronto, and only used it to bomb around in on the weekends to pick up groceries, and for the occasional visit to my Dad. That's what a lot of people do on the weekends who live in Toronto-get the hell out.

Most of the time, I use the subway. It's convenient and easy to get around the congestion of traffic that plagues most of the city.

But now, I'm driving, white knuckled along snow-covered East Highway One, and wondering what in hell I'm getting myself into.

I had a good thing going in Toronto. Assistant Professor of Social Psychology at my alma mater U of T is a damn good job. Unfortunately, it was focused more on grading papers and creating lesson plans, and took me away from where my heart lies – group counseling.

So, when I saw the online posting for a Head Counselor at Frontiers for the summer, I applied to it. I soon found out that Esme and Alice Cullen are two of the most persistent individuals on the planet. And what's more, I liked them.

We had a few Skype 'conversations' – I call them that, because they were supposed to be interviews, but it really didn't feel like it. After they saw my resume and references, they simply wanted to get to know me.

I was impressed with their philosophy and their mission to engage struggling teens in personal growth through their adventure camp and associated therapeutic counseling sessions. I had a lot of ideas, and they had taken to them eagerly, essentially giving me free reign over the group sessions.

They also made me laugh – something that I haven't really done in a long time. Not since I found out about Paul. I scowl to myself. I really don't want to go there. Not anymore.

The university understood my wanting to leave for the summer term, and had written me a glowing recommendation. I would miss the students, but I knew they would be in very good hands with their new professor, and besides, it's just for the summer.

Leaving Dad was the hardest part, but since he's discovered salsa dancing and Sue, his instructor, he's a lot happier. He encouraged me to go saying, "There's always planes, kiddo. We can come visit."

My Mom is another story. She's off in Newfoundland with her new husband, Phil, a cod fisherman who she hopes to start a reality show with. I'm sure it will be gracing the screens on CTV in the not-so-distance future. When my mother wants something, there is no stopping her.

And so, here I am, heading down the highway and just passing Chilliwack, which makes me sing My Girl at the top of my lungs.

Ever since she left me

I sure feel all alone

A little misunderstanding

I can't get her on the telephone

Yeah, well, Paul, it was a little more than a little misunderstanding. Asshole.

Men. Who needs them anyway?

I continue along, following the GPS until I come to the small town of Hope. It's cute as towns go, surrounded by huge mountain peaks, the sweeping curve of the Fraser River, and quaint little shops that I would like to spend more time in.

Following Alice's instructions, I find Memorial Park, and scan for the black SUV with the Frontiers logo. She said Emmett, who she referred to as a 'big oaf and like a brother' would be picking me up. She forwarded me a picture of him so at least I know who I'm looking for.

I'm really nervous, which is unusual for me. Hmm… maybe that's the lack of your entire wardrobe talking.

Panic hits me. What the hell am I going to change into? Everything I own is packed, including my hiking boots. I grimace at my choice of knee high boots for the flight, but despite what everyone else may assume, they're actually extremely comfortable. They are also the first indulgent thing I purchased after I graduated with my PhD and joined the real world of being an adult.

I park the jumbo-sized Tahoe beside a large snowbank, and slip out into the freezing cold. Holy shit! I frown at the fact I only have a t-shirt on under my ski jacket. At least I had the sense to wear it and not some lightweight hoodie that would do nothing against this biting wind.

With my hair swirling around as the wind whips against me, I reach in to retrieve my carry-on bag. Thank God for whoever had the brilliant idea to invent the carry-on. Even though mine only contains my computer, some toiletry items, and a few books, at least it's something.

"Boo!"

"Fuck!" I jump about a thousand feet, and whirl around to face the dimpled grin of the big oaf Alice described. "You scared the hell out of me!"

He laughs and reaches for my carry-on bag. "Welcome to Hope, BC! I'm Emmett." My heart hammers as he envelopes me with his free and massive arm. I can feel how solid he is even under the thick parka he has on. I try not to coil away, but I'm not a hugger. Neither Mom or Dad were big on the hug, and despite not wanting to be self-conscious about my more than generous curves, I am.

Growing up, my best friend Angela was model-thin, and we were both teased and taunted as only school kids can do. A lifetime of hearing the negative tends to stick with you.

I know I shouldn't care at all what society, or Emmett, or anyone else thinks of me. I'm a successful psychologist, an independent woman who just happened to inherit ample boobs and hips from my mother. I knew very early on that I'd never conform to society's messed up view of the desirable. I also don't want to live my life never indulging, afraid of what the occasional brownie may do to my waistline. Dessert is meant to be eaten and enjoyed, and I'll be damned if I'm giving it up.

"Thanks for coming to get me. You really didn't have to."

"Yeah, I did. This thing won't get to where we're going," he answers, nodding his head at the Tahoe.

I furrow my brow, looking up at him, shutting the door. "It won't?"

"Nope." He grins, moving around to the back of the SUV. "Open it up and I'll get the rest of your luggage."

"Oh, there's no need for that. The airline saw to it that my luggage took a different route."

His eyes widen. "You serious? They lost your stuff?"

Nodding, I wonder how long it's going to take for my luggage to resurface... if it ever does. "It would seem that way."

"Well, shit. Alice and Rose will be able to hook you up until it arrives, and I'm sure we have something from the shop you can use," he says.

"Thanks. I just hope it shows up soon." I leave the paperwork and the key for the Tahoe in the glove box as the rental company instructed. It seems strange to just leave the SUV here, but they said it would be safe, and that someone would pick it up in the morning.

Emmett leads the way through the snow to his SUV, opening up the passenger door for me and placing my carry-on in the back. I can feel the snow soaking through my boots to my socks, and I shake my head for not wearing the hiking ones. Clearly a rookie move.

"So, this will make it to where we're going, but that SUV wouldn't?" I ask as we leave the sleepy town of Hope behind.

"Nope. This one won't either. It'll get us to base camp. We'll take an ATV the rest of the way," he says, turning up the heat as I shiver in the seat beside him.

"Base camp?" I ask, lifting a brow. What in the world? An ATV? I've never been on an ATV in my life.

He answers with a laugh. "We're kind of remote."

"Define kind of," I start warily, looking out the window as he takes a turn, heading onto a quiet, snow covered, and windy road. The rugged mountains seem to rise up around us with snow-encased trees as far as the eye can see. Not a car or a bus or even a streetlight in sight.

"Hmm… Well, you can't access it by a regular road. Your neighbours will be deer and the occasional bear, if you're lucky, and if you want groceries or need a shopping fix, Esme makes a trip in once every couple of weeks."

Once every couple of weeks?

Nodding, I try to remain nonchalant. I knew Frontiers was off the beaten path, but I didn't really have any idea just how far off it was. I guess that means no late trips to the SuperStore, or Starbucks either.

Emmett navigates the narrowing road with ease as we climb higher, asking about life in Toronto. He has a great energy about him. He seems like he's someone who would be happy no matter where he is.

His mood is infectious and about a half hour later, I'm laughing along with him while we pull into a clearing with a small cedar cabin that sits beside a large garage. He picks up a remote that is sitting in the coffee holder between us and presses a button, raising one of the garage doors and moving the SUV forward, parking inside.

I climb down from my seat, reaching for my carry-on while Emmett moves to a large, black ATV parked beside a snowmobile with the Frontiers logo flaming in yellow along the side.

"Hop on!" he offers, straddling the seat and starting up the machine.

It roars to life and I grin, sliding the strap of my carry-across my chest as I climb up behind him.

"Hold on tight," he calls over his shoulder as he revs up the engine. "It can get bumpy!"

I wrap my arms around the solid muscle that is Emmett, my smile widening as he pulls slowly out of the garage, pausing and using the remote once more to close the garage door.

"No helmets?" I ask. If only my dad could see me now. Charlie would so not approve of this.

"Naw, it will be fine. Trust me," he says, waving me off. "If you needed a helmet, I'd give you one."

And then, we're off, the wind whipping my hair behind me as he navigates the ATV with precision over the snow laden ground. I let out a squeal as he takes a sharp turn, heading up a steep hill. I can feel the rumble in his chest as he laughs at my reaction, and I bury my face into the strong expanse of his back, hiding against the biting wind.

I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins as we move deeper into the forest. There are so many snow encased trees and rocks, they all look the same, and I haven't got a clue how he knows where we are.

It's invigorating to ride like this with the snow lightly falling over me, the roar of the engine, the crispness of the air as I breathe it in.

Who needs the subway when you can get around like this?

Alice and Esme are whirlwinds of energy. I find this out quickly as I step into the massive main lodge. I'm greeted enthusiastically with hugs, a million questions about my trip, and the best hot chocolate I've ever had.

The cedar lodge is rustic with floor to ceiling windows that face the mountains, and large exposed beams that line the A-Frame ceiling. It opens up to a seating area with overstuffed brown leather couches surrounding a huge stone fireplace. I think I'd like to spend every free minute I have in front of that fireplace. It's inviting and currently crackling away as a few guests mill about the room, relaxing and talking enthusiastically with one another, each one of them with a drink in their hand.

The placeclearly knows how to keep their guests happy.

There are several black-and-white photographs scattered on the walls, but I don't have time to take a look at them as I'm ushered quickly out the door and to my cabin by Alice.

"Your cabin is right beside ours!" she squeals happily as she pushes open the large wooden door and I step inside.

The view from the panoramic windows is magnificent, and I stare transfixed. The rugged mountain range rises into the cloudless sky, snow covered trees line the clearing around the large fire pit that sits in the middle of the circle of the cabins.

I move to the beige leather couch in the living room, sinking down and just staring, awe-struck.

"Is it okay?" Alice asks, sounding concerned.

"Are you serious? This is my cabin?"

She nods quickly. "There's a fireplace and a bedroom at the back. Oh! And a big claw foot tub in the bathroom. We have one too!" she gushes.

"I'll get you some extra clothes while you get settled. I can't believe they lost your bags!" she rambles in horror, moving to the door and then spinning quickly back to me. "Oh, and if you have a bath, which I highly suggest after being on an airplane all day long, you may need to tap the pipes that connect to the tub. They freeze up sometimes," she continues happily. "I'll be back in a while. I'm so glad you're here."

In a whirlwind of energy, she whips open the door into the blustery afternoon and is gone.

I'm in a bit of shock, I think. It's like I'm on a five-star vacation instead of my job. Fireplaces and claw tubs and views like this? And I'm getting paid?

Giggling happily like a schoolgirl, I push up from the couch, taking my jacket off in the process, and head in search for the tub.

Hmm… Narrowing my eyes at the pipes that stand between me and a good soak in this dream tub, I search for something to tap them harder with. I've been trying to get the water going for the last ten minutes and all I've gotten so far is a slow trickle. It will take hours to fill at this point.

Frustrated, I make my way into the small kitchenette, rifling through the drawers until I find a rolling pin. That should do the trick!

Marching back to the tub, I tap the pipes lightly with my hand again, but still, just a slow drip.

Gently, I bang on the pipes with the rolling pin and the water stops altogether. Damn!

"You son of a…" I raise the rolling pin back and swing as hard as I can, connecting with the pipe.

It all happens pretty fast from here. The pipe makes a groaning sound and then explodes, coming apart and spraying water all over me and anything else in the general vicinity. I'm completely soaked, and now frantically pulling down every towel I can find to try to stop the gush of water that is slowly flooding the bathroom and adjourning bedroom.

"Shit, shit, shit!" These are good towels-thick and thirsty, and just perfect. Well, no longer. Wrapping a few of them over break in the pipe, my eyes fall to a slightly rusted valve. If I only had another pair of hands!

I'm already soaked, what's a bit more water? I abandon my grip on the plush towels and reach for the valve. The water pushes against the towels, sending them to the floor, a new stream of water surging from the pipes as I struggle to turn the rusty valve.

It finally cooperates, making a screeching sound as I twist it closed. The water gives one last spray in my direction and then finally stops.

I sit back into the flood on the hardwood floor, my heart hammering as water drips from my saturated hair. I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry. I choose the former and crack up, my laughter echoing through the empty cabin.

I just wanted to have a bath in the dream tub. Is that really too much to ask?

Thank God Alice can find the humour in the situation. She assures me it's not the first time that pipes have exploded in the cabins here, though she did say she can't remember quite this level of a disaster.

The bathroom is completely flooded and it has seeped into the bedroom. Nothing that can't be fixed, but it will need to be dried out overnight. I feel horrible despite Alice's reassurance.

Way to make a first impression, Bella. Flood the five-star cabin.

As Emmett works away to try to fix the broken pipe, Alice ushers me to her brother Edward's cabin where she says I can stay until they clear out the flood.

"Are you sure it's okay?" I ask for the hundredth time, shivering as she passes me a hoodie from his front closet. "I mean, I don't want to impose. I can always sleep on the couch in the cabin." I take the navy coloured hoodie from her. It's soft and has been well loved, as Charlie would say. I really couldn't care less what it looks like. I just need to get out of my clothes that are stuck me like a second skin at the moment.

"You are not sleeping on a couch! Edward is on a heli-hike until tomorrow night. It's totally fine," she says.

"Heli-hike?" I ask intrigued.

"Yeah. Edward is a pilot, my dad too. They fly people into remote areas so they hike and ski," she explains casually, looking at her watch. "I have a call with a reporter for the Hope Standard in a few minutes. They're doing a feature on us. Can you believe it?" She turns for the door. "I'll be back with some clothes once I'm done. In the meantime, put that on so you don't freeze." She nods to the hoodie in my hand. "Make yourself at home and try not to burst any more pipes." She winks at me and pulls the door open, letting a blast of frigid air into the cabin.

Edward's cabin is bigger than mine with a loft upstairs. Making my way up, I set my carry-on bag beside the massive bed, pausing to stare at it. I've been doing that a lot since I got here; staring at things that seem unreal. This bed is no exception. It's enormous, probably the biggest bed I've ever seen, framed with sturdy, thick pine and a slatted headboard that rests under an oval window. It's sporting a dark navy duvet cover and a checked flannel blanket that is folded up neatly, lying across the foot of the bed. It's extremely enticing, but right now, I need to get out of these wet clothes and bake.

That's what I do when I'm stressed out. I bake. And this situation clearly calls for it. No luggage, flooded cabins, the thought of a bear as neighbour… Yep, I'm a bit stressed. I hope to hell Edward has some baking essentials stocked up.

I peel myself out of my wet t-shirt, placing it on the bed and start the process of tugging off my jeans. I couldn't have worn yoga pants or something that would be easy to get off, could I? No. I had to wear these damn jeans that hug every single curve I have.

Finally, I get them off, finding a towel in Edward's bathroom. He doesn't have a tub, fortunately. Just a shower. That will do just fine, thank you very much.

I towel off and gently slip the hoodie on over my head, my senses coming alive as I breathe in the unique scent that washes over me. It's slightly woodsy, crisp, and just delicious. It's also massive, falling to mid-thigh, and I feel a thousand times better once I have it on.

I contemplate whether I should leave my soaked bra and underwear on. It's not the most pleasant feeling in the world to have on cold, wet lace against your skin.

Should I bake sans lingerie?

Yes. Yes, I should.

I leave them both on the bed, feeling rather wanton at my state of undress, and make my way down to Edward's kitchen to start my stress therapy.

Everyone should be the winner of American Idol when they sing in the shower.

I turn my face up to the hot spray, enjoying the feel as it pounds against my skin. I needed this shower—big time. I sing along with Divinyls—one of the best one hit wonders ever, in my opinion—as I lather myself up with Edward's shower gel.

"When I think about you I touch myself."

I slide my hands over my breasts, down across my hips, singing at the top of my lungs. And then, the music stops. With my heart in my throat, I switch off the shower, cursing under my breath and turn to stare at the steamed glass shower door.

Please let it be Alice. Please let it be Alice. I repeat the mantra in my head, but I know better. If it was Alice, she'd already be talking.

Maybe if I don't move, they'll just go away, right?

Yeah, right.

The way my day is going?

So, I bite the bullet. "Um… hello?" When I get no answer, I actually start to panic. Every late night scary movie I've ever seen comes crashing back to me. I'm going to die at the hands of some mass murdering mountain man. Kind of like Janet Leigh in Psycho, only instead of the shower curtain being thrust aside, he'll whip open the door.

Shit! "Alice? Is that you?" I try to make out anything through the steamed glass doors, but all I see is a shadow lurking in the doorway.

"Afraid not." A low, husky, and slightly amused male voice drifts to me. It doesn't sound like Emmett.

I wrap my arms around myself and draw forth Charlie's advice. Let them know you can defend yourself.

"I'm warning you now, I have pepper spray." There. That sounded solid, maybe even threatening a little. Too bad the pepper spray is back in Toronto. Figures, I never needed it there, but in the middle of nowhere somehow it would come in handy.

A deep laugh greets my statement, but he doesn't sound scary. He makes some smart-ass remark about having to watch out for the soap, and I narrow my eyes at the glass door, going for option two. Pleading.

His answer comes quickly, his voice sounding almost apologetic… almost.

"Hey, hey. Calm down there, howler." I can hear a smirk in his voice.

Did he seriously just call me howler? Anger overtakes irrational fear, and I rub a spot clear on the glass door. Who does this guy think he is? I peer through the cleared glass, my eyes meeting his; dark, intensely green and amused. Those eyes aren't the eyes of a mass murdering mountain man… I hope.

Finding more courage, I ask him who he is, trying to get a look at him through the steamed up glass.

"Hmm… I think I'm the one who should be asking you that. You're in my shower," he says smugly.

I feel a sense of relief wash over me. It doesn't last long, however, as Edward may not be a serial killer, but he has heard me singing as only someone can in shower. Cue the mortification. "Oh shit! Alice said you were gone until tomorrow."

"Yeah? Well…Surprise."

Cocky bastard.

"Surprise? That's it? You could have said something."

I see laugh lines around the corners of his eyes as he lifts a brow. "And interrupt your, err… singing? I don't think so."

I roll my eyes, annoyance taking over every other emotion. "I'd like to get out of the shower now," I say defiantly as the warmth from the heated spray that I was enjoying immensely starts to dissipate.

"Don't let me stop you."

I groan in frustration. "You're standing between me and a towel," I state the obvious.

"Hmm… You should have thought about that. Incidentally, what are you doing in my shower?"

"It's a long story."

"Well, I've got time." His eyes lower down the glass and I step back against the tile, swiping the washcloth from the built in shelf and trying to cover up the essentials. If I can't see him clearly that means he can't see me, right?

I smirk in spite of myself. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

I'm answered with another low, delicious laugh. "How about we start with who you are? How do I know that you're not the dangerous one here?" he asks sarcastically. I see his shadow move to the other side of the bathroom.

"I'm Bella Swan, and—"

"Ah… The Shrink," he interrupts.

I furrow my brow. "God, I hate that word. I worked my ass off to get a PhD and I'm an Associate Professor. Shrink makes it sound like I'm just making shit up," I hiss in his general direction.

"Easy there, Doc. No offense. I've just had my share of experience with shrin… psychologists."

I smile at the nickname he's given me. Unfortunately, I have no time to enjoy it, my eyes widening as I see his blurry figure move to the shower door. I try to press myself further into the tile. He raises his arm and drapes a thick blue towel over the top of the door.

"Here's a towel. I'm not standing between you and it anymore."

"Thank you." I tentatively reach up for it, whipping it down and wrapping it around myself, tucking it in above my breasts. There. I feel better now… kind of.

"So you're the one responsible for the brownies in my kitchen?"

I smile, twisting my hair and wringing water out the ends. "Yes, I am." I was pleased to find that the kitchen was well-stocked. Maybe he bakes? Hmm… An unwelcome thought suddenly comes to me. Maybe he has girlfriend who does. No. Alice wouldn't let me stay here if he did, would she?

"Jesus. They're horrible."

I push open the shower door, my anger rising, my eyes finding one Edward Cullen, filling the opening of the bathroom door, his arms stretched above his head, gripping the top of the doorframe.

I wasn't prepared for this. Not for the hair sticking out from under a black beanie. Not for the faded grey t-shirt under an open flannel checked long sleeve, or for the baggy, low-hanging to the point of being inappropriate black jeans. And I sure as hell wasn't ready for the scruff. Oh, the two days' worth of scruff gracing an angular, hard set jaw.

Lord have mercy.

I swallow back the lump in my throat as we stare at each other. "What did you just say?" I ask, finally finding my voice as I grip the top of the towel at my breast.

He leans forward, his hands still holding the top of the doorframe. "Horrible." His mouth quirks in a way that should be illegal.

"That's not what Paul used to say." Ha! Take that.

He lifts a brow. "Yeah? Well, Paul's a liar."

"Tell me something I don't know."

He nods, his eyes scanning leisurely down over the towel. "Hmm… Something tells me there's more to that statement." He leans forward, grinning. "You want to talk about it, Doc?"

"Ugh! You are one of the most frustrating people on earth. I'd love an hour to get inside your head."

He flashes a full watt smile at me. "But we just met. Are you really that kind of girl?"

"That's it! Get out!" I holler at him.

"My bathroom, remember?" The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement.

I narrow my eyes at him and I grip the edge of the door, slamming it shut.

I hear him chuckle behind it. "And you think I'm the one who needs an hour of therapy. You want to know what I think?"

I flick the lock shut on the door with more force than is necessary and start a vigorous toweling off. "Enlighten me, please, Maverick." I smirk at the nickname. How many times was I forced to endure Top Gun with dad? Too many to count. It's come in handy now though. Damn infuriating pilot. I reach for another towel from the shelf for my hair.

"Nah. Just for that, I think I'll keep it to myself."

I try to rein in my smile, but it's difficult. He is simultaneously frustrating and incredibly sexy. It's a dangerous mix.

I wonder if it's a danger I want more of. Somehow, I think this job just got a lot more complicated.

Thank you for reading. XO Leslie

Rock and Roll All Nite – Lyrics by Gene Simmons, Paul Stanley

My Girl- Lyrics by Bill Henderson of the iconic Canadian band, Chilliwack

Welcome to the Jungle – Lyrics by Axl Rose, Slash, Izzy Stradin, Duff McKagan, Steve Adler

I Touch Myself – Lyrics by Christina Amphlett, Mark McEntee, Tom Kelly, Billy Steinberg. Come on, you were singing it. I know you were.

Twitters: CarLemon