Page 6 of Snatching Jackie (Wintermoon Shorts #5)

JACKIE

I should be enjoying the view, the calm water and the open sky, trying to keep my mind off my problems.

Instead, I’m hyper-aware of him .

He’s been following me for the past twenty minutes.

A massive shifter with shoulders broad enough to block out the sun.

Every time I move to a different spot on the deck, I feel his eyes on me—an intense, unnatural shade of green.

And every time I turn around, he’s there, standing awkwardly, staring at me like staring at me like I’m something holy.

I glance over my shoulder again. Still there.

Goddammit.

The ship shifts beneath me, and I hold the railing a little tighter. Maybe if I ignore him long enough, he’ll get the hint and leave.

But when I turn around fully this time, preparing to head toward the bar, he blocks my path. Up close, he’s even more imposing—at least six-foot-seven of solid muscle, with rich brown skin that glistens with a light sheen of sweat in the summer heat.

I scan him up and down, irritated at myself for noticing how the worn fabric of his oversized t-shirt hangs loosely from his frame, clearly too big even for his massive build.

His baggy jeans hang low on his hips, bunching awkwardly at the ankles like he grabbed whatever was closest without caring if it fit.

His short curly hair and messy beard look like they could use a trim, but somehow the unkempt look works on him.

He has the innocent, wide-eyed expression of an oversized puppy, which only makes my annoyance spike.

No one this physically intimidating should look so damn. .. sweet.

I cross my arms over my chest. “Can I help you?”

He clears his throat, running nervous fingers through his messy beard. When he finally speaks, his voice comes out almost shaky, deep but uncertain.

“You must get bit by a lot of mosquitos.”

I blink, then narrow my eyes and plant my hands on my hips. Oh no, he did not just say that to me. What an asshole. After twenty minutes of following me, this is the first thing he decides to say?

I already know where he’s going with this. Another man making assumptions about my body. Another comment about my size from someone who thinks they’re being subtle.

“Let me educate you before I tell you to go straight to hell,” I snap. “That’s been well debunked by scientific evidence. Bigger people do not attract mosquitos more than anyone else.”

He scrunches his nose in confusion, clearing his throat again before running a hand through his messy short curls.

“That wasn’t a derogatory comment regarding your weight,” he says, his voice taking on a deeper timbre.

“Well, what the hell was it then?” I shoot back.

He steps closer, so close I can feel the heat radiating off him like a furnace. He leans in, his face just inches from my neck, and breathes in slowly. Once. Twice. Three times.

When he pulls back, there’s a nervous smile on his lips, but his eyes are deadly serious.

“You smell like honey,” he says. “Sweet honey. The sweetness of your scent, in fact, would attract a lot of mosquitoes.”

I narrow my eyes, lift my arm to my nose, and sniff. “I don’t smell like honey. I don’t smell anything—and that’s not a perfume I wear.”

The mysterious shifter’s lips quirk upward. “You wouldn’t smell it.” He reaches out, and before I can flinch away, his finger brushes over the tip of my nose in a playful gesture. “Pretty woman. It’s in your blood, beyond your human detection.”

“Oh...” The word escapes me before I can stop it, my stance softening. The deck beneath my feet seems to sway more than the gentle rocking of the ship should cause. “What kind of shifter are you?”

“I am a bear shifter,” he says quickly, his chest puffing out with pride. “A member of the Frost Clan.”

I pause, giving him another once-over. “Oh wow, bear shifter. Well, you’re definitely big like one—practically towering over this deck.” I nod toward the level above us, where his head nearly brushes the ceiling. “That explains why you like the honey smell.”

His expression falls, a frown replacing the eager look. “Not all bear shifters like the scent of honey.” His eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that makes my heart skip. “And your scent is distinct. It would only attract one male.”

I extend my hand, deciding a fresh start is the best approach. “You know what? Let’s start over. I’m Jackie, and you are?”

He just stares at my outstretched hand, leaving me hanging awkwardly. I frown.

“Jackie is a beautiful name,” he says finally.

I groan and let my hand fall back to my side.

“My name is Jabari,” he offers belatedly.

Despite finding him weird and difficult to read—does he like me or not?—I find myself smiling. “Jabari of the Frost Clan. That sounds nice.”

He bows his head in acknowledgment, the gesture oddly formal and out of place on the cruise ship’s casual deck.

Looking past him, I notice the sun beginning its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. “Well, I just want to enjoy the waters before quiet time hits for the ship,” I say, attempting to step around his massive frame.

He shifts to block my path, and irritation flares through me again.

“What the hell are you doing?” I demand.

He fidgets, looking almost boyish despite his intimidating size. “Could I join you? I need to speak to you about something very important.”

“Based on your hot and cold demeanor, I’m not sure I want to hear what you have to say,” I reply, trying again to maneuver around him.

He blocks me once more, and I feel my patience evaporating.

“Do I need to call for security? I want you to back off.”

“I need to talk to you,” he insists, his voice taking on a hint of desperation. “How you respond to my confession will seal our fate. But I need to speak to you.”

“Well, I’m not interested,” I say.

His frown deepens. “The women of this time are incredibly stubborn.”

I stiffen, anger flaring hot. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I will carry you to a private place so we can talk,” he announces abruptly. “And if you reject what I’m going to tell you, I will honor you and leave you alone.”

A laugh bursts from me, loud and disbelieving. I look down at my own body—my curves, my flesh, my substantial weight—then back at him, still laughing.

“What is so funny?” he asks, genuinely confused.

“You fool,” I manage between chuckles. “I weigh three hundred and twenty pounds. You aren’t picking?—“

Before I can finish my sentence, my feet leave the deck. The world tilts and spins as Jabari effortlessly hoists me over his shoulder like I’m made of paper. The air rushes from my lungs in a whoosh as my stomach meets his solid shoulder.

“What the—put me down!” I gasp, my hands pressing against his back, trying to push myself upright.

“I am a bear shifter. I can lift tons before I tire out,” he explains as he starts walking, steady despite my weight. “You are nothing—“ He pauses, clears his throat. “No, not nothing. You are everything. I just need to show you.”

He walks across the deck, and I’m acutely aware of the stares from other passengers. My face burns with embarrassment.

“Alright, alright! You’ve made your point. Put me down, and I’ll listen,” I plead.

He ignores me, continuing his determined march across the deck.

“Please, Jabari,” I try again, genuine discomfort creeping into my voice. “I feel strange up in the air like this.”

He groans, finally stopping and gently lifting me from his shoulder. My flip-flops touch the deck again, and I resist the urge to smooth the skirt of my swimsuit, which has likely ridden up during the manhandling.

“How about your room for our private discussion?” He suggests.

“Oh hell no! I am not a slut. What do you take me for?” I snap back.

He groans, his patience clearly wearing thin. “I knew I shouldn’t have believed you.” He reaches for me again, but I step back quickly, hands raised in surrender.

“How about the bar!” I blurt out. “Buy me a drink, and I’ll listen.”

This big ass shifter stares me down, leaving me flustered and... turned on? How long have I waited for a man—a big, sexy man—to just walk into my life and manhandle me like he was built for it?

Goddamn. I swipe a bead of sweat from my forehead, hoping I’m not messing up my makeup.

A smirk creeps across his face. He leans in again, inhaling deeply near my skin. When he pulls back, his eyes have darkened.

“Honey paired with your arousal,” he murmurs, licking his lips before gesturing in the direction of the ship’s bar. “Lead the way, pretty Jackie.”

I cringe, mortified that he can smell my attraction. A blush heats my cheeks as I turn quickly and start power-walking down the deck, the ship’s gentle rocking beneath my feet doing nothing to steady my racing heart.

I feel his eyes on my ass the entire way, and I’m not sure whether to be mortified or turned on even more.