Page 38 of Wild Daddy

"My tent," he says, wrapping a wool blanket around us both. "Better." For a long time, we just sit there listening to the storm and our heartbeats gradually slowing.

"Cade?"

"Yeah?"

"I came out here to prove something. To everyone." I trace patterns on his chest through his thermal. "But I don't think I'm the same person who started this research project."

His arm tightens around me. "How so?"

"When I was following those tracks, all I could think about was impressing Professor Harrison. How this would validate my methodology." I pause. "But when that bear looked at me, none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was that I'd put us both in danger because I couldn't follow simple instructions."

"You didn't put me in danger. Protecting you is what I do." His voice rumbles against my ear. "It's also what I like to do."

"But what if you'd gotten hurt because I was being careless?"

"Hey." He tilts my chin up. "I didn't. You didn't. We're both safe."

"This time."

"Every time." Patient, sure. "Because you learned something today. Your safety matters more than any research project. Trust means listening even when you don't understand why. And changing course doesn't make you weak—it makes you smart."

I curl closer to him. "I don't know if this thesis even makes sense anymore. I don't know if I'm cut out for this kind of field work."

"What do you think?"

"I think..." I take a shaky breath. "I think maybe I want to go back to your real cabin today. Take some time to figure out what I actually want instead of what everyone expects me to want. And I could go for a real bed. And I want to see your world. Where you are you."

"You sure?"

"No. But I'm sure I want to figure it out with you." I look up at him. "Is that okay?"

His smile is soft and proud. "That's my brave girl. Smart enough to start something, wise enough to change course when needed."

"Plus, I'm curious about this cabin of yours. Please tell me it has indoor plumbing."

"It has indoor plumbing, smart ass."

"And a real bed?"

"A very real bed." His voice drops an octave. "Very comfortable."

Heat floods my cheeks. "Good. That's... practical information."

Two hours later, we've packed up and driven to Cade's real cabin. His home. As we approach the clearing, I feel my breath catch.

It's beautiful. Not the rustic shack I'd been expecting, but something that belongs in Architectural Digest. Clean lines, natural materials, floor-to-ceiling windows bringing the forest inside.

"Cade," I breathe. "This is incredible."

He shrugs, but I catch his pride. "Built most of it myself. My brother’s helped. We all helped each other build our houses. It’s kind of a thing. Like our Sunday dinners."

I follow him inside, and my chest tightens. The interior is just as perfect—minimalist, organized, everything in its place. Books line the walls, there's a stone fireplace, handcrafted furniture,and not a single thing suggesting this space could accommodate another person.

Especially not a person from my world.

"It's perfect," I say, voice cracking.

"Marley?" Cade sets down his pack, studying my face. "What's wrong?"

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