Page 59 of Sweet Heart for the Bear

I found a pair of his boxer briefs and I tug them on since I wasn’t wearing anything beneath his t-shirt.

They are not enough to go out in, but I feel somewhat decent.

I turn to face him, eyes burning as my throat tightens.

“I’m sorry if women are a dime a dozen to men like you,” I continue, voice shaking, “but I don’t do one-night stands. And goddamn it, I thought you were special!”

And because life loves to humiliate me, I start crying.

Tears well up, spilling over before I can stop them, hot and unwelcome.

I wipe at my face furiously, but it’s too late—he’s already seen.

“Carina, please don’t cry,” he says, stepping toward me.

“Stay away from me!” I shout, raw and tired and just done.

A knock sounds at the front door, and I shove past him, desperate for an escape.

It has to be my sister.

Horace growls.

A low, animalistic sound that raises the hairs on the back of my neck.

Then he moves, stepping in front of me like a damn wall, his broad back blocking my view of the door.

“Oh my God, move!” I snap, exasperated. “It’s my sister?—”

But it’s not.

A voice drifts in, smooth and amused.

“Am I interrupting something?”

I freeze.

Horace tenses. His muscles are coiling like a spring about to snap.

I peek around his enormous body, annoyed that he’s still in boxer briefs, his entire ridiculous physique on display like some kind of carved-from-stone god.

Meanwhile, he keeps tucking me behind him.

Like I need protection.

Like whatever’s on the other side of that door isn’t friendly.

And suddenly, I have a very, very bad feeling. But I look anyway, expecting the boogeyman.

The person standing in the doorway is not some terrifying supernatural threat.

No.

Instead, it’s an amiable-looking older man with a head of neatly groomed white hair and facial hair to match. His sapphire-blue eyes sparkle with mischief as he takes in Horace’s near-nakedness and my clearly disheveled appearance.

Oh my god. Kill me now.

“Darlings, I feel I may have arrived at the nick of time,” the man announces, his voice rich and warm, like whiskey and old books.

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