Page 21 of Mated to the Mountain Bear (Bear Protector #1)

ZARA

W e’re barely through the door when Ben turns to me, the determination on his face making me worried.

“You should learn to shoot,” he says, already moving toward a locked cabinet I hadn’t paid attention to before.

“Shoot? As in, a gun?”

Taking a step back, I’m already shaking my head.

“You need to be able to protect yourself. Just in case.” He’s checking the rifle with practiced movements and not quite meeting my eyes. “I won’t always be there.”

Detective Harris told me the same thing, and I didn’t want to hear it then, either. I’ve no experience with weapons. I’d probably be a danger to myself.

“Ben, I don’t think...” Guns make me nervous. I don’t want one in my home. “Don’t we need to go to a range or something? And we told Beau that I’d stay hidden up here.”

See? We can’t do it, even if I wanted to. Problem solved.

“Please.” The word is soft but firm. “For my peace of mind.”

He’s never said please before. Never asked for anything, and it makes my insides twist. I’m physically incapable of saying no to him. So I just nod and watch as he gathers his things and then shoves a box of cartridges into his thigh pocket.

If something happens, I don’t want to be that idiot girl who did nothing to help herself. I guess it makes sense to at least learn.

“I’ve never shot a gun before,” I say as we head back outside, me trailing along behind him reluctantly, hands stuffed deep into my pockets.

“I figured.”

I purse my lips, not sure why I’m annoyed by that. Maybe it feels like he’s underestimating me.

“What if I’m terrible at it?”

“Then you’ll practice until you’re not.”

Ben grabs some more stuff from the shed then leads me deep into the woods. While I admire the scenery where we eventually stop, Ben sets up targets at the edge of the clearing, far from any hiking trails.

The afternoon light slants through the trees, creating strange patterns of light and dark. A breeze stirs the pines, carrying their sharp, clean scent.

Drifting to the edge of the clearing, I run my fingers over some deep gouges in the bark of a tree. When I glance around at the other trees, I spot more, all up at head height.

“Are these from… bears?”

Wide eyed, I stare at Ben. He looks from the long slices in the bark to me, suddenly uncomfortable.

Does he think I’m going to get spooked and demand to go home? Well, even if I were, I’m not going to now.

“Yes.”

Suddenly, this clearing doesn’t feel so tranquil. I stare into the dense forest around me, but I’m determined not to be afraid of everything.

Ben’s with me. He knows what he’s doing. I’m safe.

“Why? What are these marks for?”

Ben approaches slowly and looks over my shoulder before running his hands over the impressive markings. I can’t even imagine how strong this animal must be to do damage like this.

“He’s marking his territory, letting everyone know this mountain, and everything on it, is his.”

“Including me?”

Ben pales for a second, looking stunned.

“I mean, is he letting me know this is his land?” I sound like an idiot. “Will he be pissed off that we’re out here?”

Ben gives me a teasing smile. “I think this grizzly might be willing to share with you.”

He’s mocking me, Mr. Hot Mountain Man, who probably wrestles bears for fun.

I roll my eyes, and with one last look at the intriguing markings, turn to face my reluctant bodyguard slash teacher slash major crush.

“Okay, so where do you want me?”

Ben mutters a curse, dragging his hand down over his face, before lifting the gun into both hands and holding it out so I can examine it.

“First rule,” he says, handing me the unloaded rifle. The metal is colder and heavier than I expected. “Always assume it’s loaded. Always.”

I take it gingerly, like it might go off before I even touch it. “Okay.”

“Second rule. Never point it at anything you don’t intend to shoot.”

I nod, but internally, I’m confused. Isn’t it always pointing at something?

“You’d be surprised how many people forget when they’re nervous, so keep it low and away from me.” He moves behind me, adjusting my grip. “Finger off the trigger until you’re ready to fire.”

I’m tense, my shoulders drawn up tight. This close, I can feel the warmth radiating from his body as he manoeuvres me the way he wants me. The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the clearing, and somewhere in the distance, a woodpecker hammers against bark.

“Relax,” he murmurs, hands on my shoulders, gently pressing down.

I take a breath, trying to follow his instructions, but it’s hard with his warm breath fanning against my cheek. He guides me into a proper stance, nudging my feet wider with his boot.

“Wider,” he says when I resist. “You need a stable base.”

“This feels weird.” I look over my shoulder, my words trailing off when I realise how close our faces are.

Our lips are inches apart.

If he just leans forward...

“It’ll feel natural with practice.” His hands cover mine on the rifle, adjusting my hold. “Keep the stock tight against your shoulder. When you fire, it’ll kick back. Be ready for it.”

I nod, feeling the movement against his chest. We’re pressed close, his body caging mine, and suddenly, the lesson feels like something else entirely.

Something dangerous.

“Breathe,” he instructs. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. Slow and steady.”

I obey, feeling my ribs expand and contract, as I press my back to his front and follow his lead. We fit together perfectly.

“Good. Now, sight down the barrel. See the target?”

“Yes.” The word comes out breathless.

“Center it. Take your time.” He should step back and give me space, but he doesn’t move. “When you’re ready, squeeze the trigger. Don’t pull. Squeeze.”

I fire, the crack echoing across the clearing.

Birds burst from nearby trees in a flurry of wings and alarmed calls.

The shot goes wide, missing the target entirely.

My heart is racing, and the blood rushing through my veins sings with excitement.

The adrenaline rush is unexpected and thrilling. The urge to try again, less so.

“Again,” he says, reloading for me. “This time, don’t anticipate the recoil. Let it happen.”

We go through several rounds, each shot getting closer. I’m a quick learner if I do say so myself, adjusting based on his minimal corrections, and getting more comfortable with each shot.

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.”