Page 37 of Wild Daddy

"Don't move."

Cade's voice comes from directly behind me, low and steady and absolutely calm. I hear the soft crunch of his boots as he steps around me, placing his massive frame between me and eight hundred pounds of protective mother.

"Stay exactly where you are," he says quietly. "Don't run. Don't make any sudden movements."

The bear huffs again, louder this time, and takes another step forward, pawing the ground and throwing sticks and leaves intothe air. Cade spreads his arms wide, making himself look even bigger than he already is.

"HEY!" he shouts, his voice booming through the forest. "HEY BEAR! GET BACK!"

The bear stops, head tilting as she assesses this new threat. For a moment that stretches like eternity, they stare at each other—predator and protector, wilderness and civilization, death and the man standing between it and me.

"HEY!" Cade yells again, taking a deliberate step forward. "GET OUT OF HERE!"

The bear huffs one more time, a sound like a steam engine, then slowly turns and melts back into the forest, her cubs scrambling after her. Within seconds, it's like they were never there at all.

I'm shaking so hard I can barely stand. The phone slips from my nerveless fingers, clattering onto the forest floor.

"Jesus Christ," I whisper, then louder, "Oh God—"

He spins around, and the look on his face stops my apology cold. It's not anger, exactly, though there's some of that. It's something rawer, more primal. Fear. Pure, undiluted fear.

"Jesus Christ baby..." He doesn't finish the sentence. Instead, he closes the distance between us in two long strides and pulls me against his chest so hard it drives the air from my lungs.

His heart is hammering against my ear, his breathing ragged. I can feel the tension in every muscle of his body, the way his hands shake slightly as they cradle the back of my head.

"I'm sorry," I whisper into his flannel shirt. "I'm so sorry, Daddy. I broke the rules. I didn't listen."

"You scared the shit out of me." His voice is rough. ”You don’t fucking do that again, you hear me?”

"I know. I got excited about the research and—"

"No." He cups my face, forcing me to look at him. "You didn't think. Out here, not thinking gets you killed."

My eyes burn. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't fix dead." He presses his forehead to mine, breathing slowly. "But you're learning."

I could have died. That bear could have charged, and Cade would have watched me get mauled because I couldn't follow simple instructions.

"I trust you," I whisper. "I do trust you. I just... I don't know why I did that."

"Because you're used to being the smartest person in the room." His thumbs brush away my tears. "Bears don't give a shit about your PhD."

A fat raindrop hits my forehead. Then another. The sky opens up.

"I think that’s enough for today.” Cade growls, his voice rough, tugging me along as we scramble back down the trail toward the cabin.

By the time we reach the weathered wooden structure, we're both drenched despite the canopy overhead. Cade pushes open the heavy door, ushering me into the dim interior as rain drums against the metal roof.

"Get out of those wet clothes," he says, already stripping off his flannel. "You'll catch pneumonia."

I fumble with buttons, fingers shaking from adrenaline and cold. And maybe a little from watching Cade peel off his shirt like some kind of lumberjack calendar model.

He notices my struggle and helps, his touch gentle as he works me out of the damp fabric.

"Arms up," he murmurs, pulling one of his dry shirts over my head. The flannel swamps me, soft and warm and smelling like him.

"I feel like I'm wearing a tent," I say, but I'm secretly thrilled by how completely his scent surrounds me.

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