Page 45 of Mated to the Mountain Bear
His hands guide mine, our bodies melding together, as he makes sure I have the correct stance and hold each time. I’m so focused on what we’re doing, that I barely notice the sun continuing its descent, painting the mountains in shades of purple and rose.
“Better.” He approves as I clip the outer ring of the target. “Again.”
This time, I hit the target properly, not centred, but solidly in the middle rings. I turn in his arms, brimming with a sense of accomplishment.
“Good girl.”
The praise slips out of him, but in a voice that’s husky and raw.
My reaction is immediate.
My breath catches audibly, and heat floods through me. I feel colour rising in my cheeks as I realise we’re pressed together, head to toe, our gazes locked, and we’re both breathing hard.
If we weren’t in the middle of the great outdoors, I’d make a quip about it getting hot in here.
“Again.” His voice has dropped an octave. “On your own this time.”
I blink, coming back to myself, then turn to face the target with movements that are just a fraction too quick. My hands have a slight tremor now as I raise the rifle, but I focus on my breathing and try to steady myself.
I fire. This shot is even better, landing just outside the centre rings.
“I did it.”
“Perfect,” he says, and my entire body responds to the praise. My shoulders straighten and my chin lifts with pride.
The shadows are lengthening now, and the air cools as evening approaches. A hawk circles overhead, its cry piercing the mountain silence.
I study Ben as we reload, this man, all sharp edges on the outside, I’m more and more convinced now, is just a big teddy bear on the inside.
“I’ve been thinking about what you told me. About your family.” I watch him check the rifle, his movements precise and careful. “It must have been hard walking away from all that.”
“Because of the glamour or the money?” He pauses, glancing at me, looking suspicious about where I’m going with this. “Not as hard as staying would have been.”
With a sigh, he puts down the gun and faces me. “I left before I did anything that I couldn’t live with. That was the easiest decision I’ve ever made. Not that my father agreed.”
The confession hangs between us in the cooling air. I can see the tension in his shoulders. He wants me to know he never did anything really bad, and that he’s not as damaged as his name suggests.
But I already know that instinctively without him needing to say a word.
“Is that why you moved up here alone? To hide from him?”
I’m prying. I know I am, but I want to know him.
“Partly.” He sucks in a deep breath and looks around us at the leaves glowing in the faint orange light of the nearing sunset. “But this is where I belong. Even if he was an accountant, I’d be living somewhere like this.”
The longer I spend up here, the more I can see the appeal.
“I don’t think you’re like him.” I can’t believe he’d even compare himself to that man. “You can’t be. You’ve taken me in, given me a roof over my head, even though it puts you in danger, and you haven’t asked for anything in return. From what you’ve told me, that’s not something your father would do.”
His hands rest on my arms, and I watch his throat work as he swallows. Behind him, the sun is setting properly now, painting the sky in brilliant colors.
“You don’t know me well enough to say that.”
There isn’t a bad bone in this man’s body.
“I know enough.” I turn to face him fully, the rifle now forgotten between us. “That’s who you are. Not whatever your family did.”
“Zara...” For a moment, I think he might say something important. “I think that’s enough for today,” he says, taking the rifle and striding out to collect the target.
