Author's Note: I decided (with help) that there would be more than one phone in Janet's house. Or, for that matter, Cassie could be calling from a pay phone, or the neighbor's or from Sam and Jack's house.

OOOOOO

"Cassandra?"

She smiled when she heard his voice, even though he couldn't see it.

"Ian. How are you? Did you really get attacked by a bear?"

"I'm fine, Cassandra. Your mom stitched me up. How are you?"

"Aside from a little annoyed that I don't get to be there with you and my mom does…?"

Ian frowned.

"I didn't have anything to do with-"

"I know, Ian, I'm just teasing you. Any idea how long it'll be until you guys are out of there?"

"It'd better be today," he told her. "I wonder if I should call them and make sure they're getting started…"

Cassie smiled, pretty certain that if he called anyone, he'd probably get them angry at him – and they'd probably leave him up at the lodge until the snow melted, just out of spite.

"I'm sure they're doing all they can."

Ian sat down on the sofa, his throbbing hand resting carefully against his chest.

"Yeah."

"So…?"

"What?"

"Are you going to tell me how you managed to get attacked by a bear?"

"It's dumb."

"Come on… please?"

Like he could ever say no to her?

"A couple of cubs were fu- messing with my car, and I ran out to stop them, not knowing that the mother bear – or father bear, whatever it was – was right there, too. The cubs took off, but the bigger bear came after me."

"What did you do?"

"Threw a snowball at it."

She laughed, and then realized he was serious.

"You drove it away with snowballs?"

"Nah, Andrew shot at it and scared it off. It-"

"Breakfast!"

Even Cassie heard that. She smiled, and decided to cut the conversation short – even though she would have talked to him all day if she could.

"You'd better go eat."

If he wasn't starving, he might have hesitated a bit more, but Ian could smell bacon and pancakes and the venison roast from the night before had been a long time ago.

"I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Call me when you get home?"

"Yeah."

"I love you."

He hesitated, but Cassie knew it wasn't because he didn't love her. She didn't have any real doubts anymore about his feelings for her.

"I do you, too…" he said, finally. "I'll see you as soon as I can."

She smiled and hung up the phone. Dumb boys.

Ian turned off the phone and tossed it onto the couch beside him, then got to his feet and headed into the kitchen. Janet looked over at him from her position by the stove.

"How's Cass?"

"She's fine. Just wanted to know when we were going to be back."

Janet doubted that was the main reason for her to call, but she nodded anyways.

"When we're done eating, we'll call and see what's going on."

"Okay." He looked at the huge stack of pancakes she'd made – all piled on a plate and ready to go to the table. "Want me to carry that?"

"No." She didn't want to make more when he dropped them. Besides, she was hungry, too. "Why don't you bring that can of juice?"

Ian looked to where she was pointing and saw a large can of orange juice sitting on the counter.

"Andrew already brought out glasses," Janet said, before he could reach for some. "Just bring the can. And be careful with that hand."

Which was her way of telling him to be careful with the can, and he knew it. However, the prospect of a solid meal under his belt was more than enough to make up for that, and he didn't even scowl as he followed her out of the kitchen and into the dining room where Andrew was already sitting – a plate filled with bacon in front of him, as well as butter, syrup and everything else they'd probably need.

"I have to ask," Janet said as they sat down and Andrew and Ian both waited politely for her to take what she wanted before they decimated the pile of pancakes. "How can two intelligent young men such as yourselves be so helpless in the kitchen…?"

Andrew blushed.

"My mom never lets me cook – or help her. She won't let Anna – that's my sister – help her, either. She says it's her job to make dinner or whatever, and it's our job to tell her just how great it is. And my grandmothers are even worse. They like to cook and don't let anyone into the kitchen if they can help it. Except to do the dishes."

Which was probably where his mother had picked up the habit as well, Janet decided. She looked at Ian, waiting for his explanation.

He shrugged.

"I pulled a pot of boiling water down off the stove when I was little. It didn't even touch me, but it scared my mom, and she hasn't let me near the kitchen since."

Now why didn't that surprise her? Not only that Ian would have done something like that when he was little, but that Maggie Brooks – who was extremely protective of her son – would have kept him away from any perceived threat from then on. The woman probably figured Ian was more than capable of getting into mischief elsewhere – and Janet was certain that he had – and had probably kept him as far from the kitchen as possible.

"We can do the dishes, though," Ian said. "One thing I definitely can do is dishes."

Yeah, well… she had her doubts about that, too.