Page 6 of Mated to the Mountain Bear (Bear Protector #1)

ZARA

B en’s already heading back toward the cabin when he calls over his shoulder, “After that, bring her down to Maddox’s and let him mind her.”

Beau’s shoulders relax, and he motions for me to get out and join them. So I do, every muscle protesting, seized up after the exertion of earlier and followed by time spent sitting in the car. The mud squelches between my toes, and stones dig into my sore feet, making me hiss involuntarily.

Ben freezes and turns back to me. His eyes drop to my feet.

“Stop.” He barks.

I stop, not sure what I’ve done wrong. I thought this was settled, and I could stay. The thought of leaving and going somewhere else is gut-wrenching.

But that’s not what’s wrong at all. In a heartbeat, he’s there, sweeping me up into his thick arms and lifting me out of the mud. His strength does something funny to my belly, and I have to fight back the urge to shriek as my insides flutter. I’ve never been picked up like that before.

“Thanks,” I mumble, practically melting in his arms as his heat seeps into me, and I get a waft of his manly smell.

Ben doesn’t respond but levels his brother with a glare as he sets me back down on the bottom step of the porch beside Beau.

“I suppose you better get inside; it’s too wet to be standing out here,” he says to Beau, then to me, softer, “Watch the steps. They’re slick.”

He opens the door and stands to one side, waiting for us to come in with a scowl rather than welcoming us. But I’m so exhausted, I don’t care once he says he’s letting us stay.

Inside, the cabin is exactly what I’d expect from someone who’s “a bit of a loner.” One main room and a kitchen flows into living space. Minimal furniture, all function over form. Handmade, possibly by him, if the loner lumberjack persona I’ve created for him in my mind already is true.

A stone fireplace crackles with actual wood, and I immediately go to it, eager to stand beside the fire.

But as I go to move, my wet, dirty feet squelch against the floor, and I stop, looking down at the dirt I’m walking in.

“Shit, sorry.”

Ben moves to the kitchen counter, filling a kettle. He doesn’t even turn. “It’s just mud.”

When I stay frozen to the spot, he turns and looks at me, gaze lingering on the leather jacket still hanging off my shoulders.

“There are towels in the bathroom,” he says. “Down the hall, first door. Beau, get her some, and grab some clothes from my room. She needs something warmer than that.”

Beau goes for them while I stay put, feeling awkward.

“I’m sorry about the mess,” I start, but Ben dismisses my concern like I’m an idiot for caring about dirtying his home.

“You think this floor hasn’t gotten some dirt on it before?”

Looking at our surroundings—the tall peaks behind us and the dense forest all around—I guess he has a point. Ben takes my silence as agreement and casts another glance at my feet, his nose twitching.

“I landed in a bin. I probably don’t smell great.”

But Ben just shakes his head. “You’re bleeding.” Twisting to face the small hallway his brother disappeared down, he shouts, “Beau, grab the first aid kit, too.”

Beau reappears with a small stack of clothes in his hands and a green box sitting on top.

“Go get warm,” Ben says, nodding toward the fire. “Before you get pneumonia.”

Beau shakes his head. “She’s not changing in front of the fire.”

Ben shrugs. “Suit yourself. There’s a bathroom down the hall.” He resumes whatever he’s doing in the kitchen, turning his back on the two of us, and muttering about us wanting his help, then not listening to him.

Beau shrugs, clearly used to his brother’s surly demeanour, but I’m not, and it’s been a long night.

“I can leave,” I offer quietly, trying to inject some steel into my voice. “Find a hotel. I don’t want to put you out if this is too much. And I certainly don’t want you or your brothers to get hurt because of me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He huffs at that, like just the idea of them being in danger is preposterous. “Don’t worry about them.”

Looking at him, all thick muscles, manly beard, and dark expression, it’s hard to imagine him feeling threatened by anyone, but if this is the same guy, the one who took Amber, maybe he should be.

“You don’t understand.”

Ben’s brown eyes burn as he locks eyes with me and takes a step closer, making sure I know exactly how he feels about this.

“I understand completely. He’s a coward who deserves whatever he gets when we find him. And we will find him. Until then, you stay here. With me.” It’s almost welcoming until he turns away and finishes his thought. “As quietly as you can.”

Beau slips his arms back into the leather jacket as I shrug it off, and I’m acutely aware that my top has gone slightly see-through. To his credit, Beau’s eyes never leave my face as he digs my phone out of the inside pocket and hands it back me, followed by the SIM. “I’ll get you a new number.”

My initial instinct is to rebel against the inconvenience of a new number but right now, I have bigger problems to deal with.

“I have to go. The sooner we find this guy, the sooner you can go home.” Beau backs toward the door with an apologetic grimace.

“What? Already?” Panic flares inside me, and I glance from Beau to Ben, then back again. “But I haven’t even paid you…”

Beau waves away my attempts to discuss money. “You have enough to worry about right now. We can talk about it later. ”

He’s not wrong, but I also don’t want a massive bill at the end of this that I have no way of paying. Seeing that I don’t feel any less concerned, he adds, “I owe the good detective a favour. We’ll call it even after this.”

I’m not so sure she’ll want to use her favour on me, but I can tell I’m not going to get anywhere with him tonight. He already has one foot out the door.

Beau gives me a reassuring smile. “Ben will take good care of you while I work.” He glances at his brother. “Won’t you?”

Ben meets his gaze steadily. “She’ll be safe. You have my word.”

It’s not enthusiastic, but there’s something solid in the promise that makes me relax. He doesn’t know me, and I don’t know him, but I trust those words.

Beau gently squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll call as soon as I can with an update. And I’ll tell Detective Harris that I have you in case she’s worried.”

Then he’s gone, the heavy wooden door closing behind him with a finality that makes my stomach drop. The silence that follows is heavy, but the crackle of fire, the whistle of the heating kettle, and the rain hammering on the roof, are almost cosy, despite the bleak circumstances.

“Get changed,” Ben says, a little more gently this time. “You’re shaking.”

I clutch the first-aid kit to my chest and escape down the dimly lit hall. The bathroom is tiny but warm. I close the door and lean against it, not sure whether I want to be alone or if the thought just terrifies me.

But I’m not alone, I remind myself. Ben’s right here. And there’s no way anyone could know I’m here. I tell myself that as I push open the door and set the first-aid kit down on the edge of the vanity and lift my eyes to the mirror.

My reflection is shocking. Hair plastered to my head. Remnants of yesterdays mascara streaked down my face, and my vest, now completely see-through, stuck to my skin. I groan, and the very clear outline of my nipples through the pale fabric.

I shouldn’t care what I look like, but I do. I don’t want to be a total mess.

I set the dry clothes on the counter. Sweatpants, a thermal shirt, and thick wool socks. Everything smells of laundry detergent. And him. I’m peeling off my soaked clothes with shaking hands when a soft knock interrupts.

Ben’s voice comes through. “It might be easier to deal with those cuts after you wash your feet. I can help you when you come out.”

The unexpected offer makes my throat tighten. “Thank you.”

His footsteps retreat as I sink onto the closed toilet seat and finally examine the damage. They’re not as bad as they feel. There are dozens of tiny cuts from the metal and gravel. Some still bleed sluggishly, but there’s nothing deep, and no splinters.

I do a quick clean at the sink, knowing it’s not enough, but I just need to rinse the worst of the grime away.

The shower, when I test it, is barely a trickle of lukewarm water.

It’s not the hot, cleansing blast of water that I desperately need, but it’s better than nothing.

I scrub my hair and skin under the weak stream with whatever soap I can find before pointing the shower head at my feet and attempting to clean the cuts.

I check my phone, not sure what I expect to see on it so soon, but to my dismay, there’s not even a single bar of coverage. Fuck . When Beau said remote, he really wasn’t exaggerating.

When I dry off and finally emerge back in the living area, dressed in Ben’s too-big clothes, he’s waiting for me at the small kitchen table. His back is to me, but his broad shoulders tense, thick muscles bunching under his shirt, the moment I enter.

He turns, and something flashes in his dark eyes when he sees me drowning in his thermal shirt. His jaw tightens under his thick, dark beard, and he extends a hand, curling his fingers in my direction.

My legs carry me toward him, doing as I’m told, and coming to a stop between his knees, before I realise it’s not me he wants. He’s demanding the first-aid kit.

“Sit.” He nods at the chair across from him as he takes the green box gently from my hands. His fingers touch my palm ever so briefly as he pulls it away before opening the kit and spreading it out in front of him.

Embarrassed at how close I’m standing to him, how my thighs are touching the inside of his knees, I back away.

“I already cleaned them in the shower. I’m sure they’re fine...”

He looks at me, one dark eyebrow raised, and I trail off. I bet this guy is used to getting his way. There’s something about him that makes me eager to please.

“ Sit .”