Page 15

Nine

M arley

The soreness between my legs reminds me with every step how I asked for Cade to show me as many positions as he could throughout the night.

For research purposes.

We got to ten and I lost count of the orgasms. I ended up passing out and that’s when Cade said enough was enough.

He hydrated me, put some warm, wet cloths on my battered baby maker, then tucked me in next to him where I slept until I woke up with him squeezing my tits together, spitting on me then shoving that Ever-ready hard-on of his between my tits until he told me to open wide and gave me my morning protein drink.

I’m learning so much about the wilderness. And the wild Daddy that lives in it.

Now, as we walk, Cade teaching me today about what is edible in the forest, which includes grubs apparently. I refused when he pulled a wiggling white worm out of a rotten log, and thank goodness, he didn’t do the whole ‘I’m going to feed you and you’re going to eat’ exercise again.

He’s left the poor little grub on the ground, deciding not to indulge in the snack himself, then took my hand and lead me deeper into the woods.

The forest feels like a cathedral, golden sunlight filtering through the canopy.

My boots crunch on fallen needles and twigs as I follow Cade along what barely qualifies as a trail.

"Stay close," Cade murmurs, voice low. "Bears don't like surprises. Neither do I."

I nod, trying to focus on his broad shoulders instead of the way his voice makes my stomach flutter. Even tracking wildlife, he manages to make simple instructions sound like promises I want him to keep.

"What exactly are we looking for?" I ask, pulling out my notebook. Though honestly, at this point I'm not sure what my thesis is even about anymore.

"Bear sign. Scat, claw marks, bedding areas." He stops beside a massive pine and points up. "See those scratches? Fresh ones, about eight feet up. Big male marking his territory."

"Sounds familiar," I mutter, then flush when he shoots me an amused look.

I crane my neck back, studying the parallel gouges in the bark. "How can you tell it's recent?"

"Sap's still bleeding. And see how the bark hasn't started to heal over yet?" He reaches up to trace the air near the marks without touching them. "This was made within the last few days. Maybe less."

The academic part of my brain immediately starts cataloging observations, but there's something else happening too. Something about the way Cade reads this forest like it's written in a language I'm only just learning to recognize. It's not book knowledge—it's something deeper, more intuitive.

"Cade?" I say, then catch myself. We're technically working right now, gathering research data. "I mean, what would you do if we actually encountered the bear that made these marks?"

His glacier-blue eyes find mine, serious. "Depends on the situation. Male black bears usually aren't aggressive unless they're protecting food or feel cornered. But the rules are simple: don't run, make yourself look bigger, back away slowly. And if he charges, you get behind me and stay there."

"You'd put yourself between me and a bear?"

"Little girl, I'd put myself between you and anything." Matter-of-fact, but it hits me like a physical touch. "That's what protection means."

I swallow hard, warmth spreading through my chest. "Right. Protection." Though the way he says it makes me think of entirely different kinds of protection. The kind that involves a lot less clothing.

We continue deeper into the forest, and I find myself cataloging everything—not just for my thesis, but because I want to remember this. The way Cade reads this place like it's written in a language I'm only learning to recognize.

"Look here," he says, crouching beside what looks like a pile of dark pellets. "Fresh scat. Still warm."

I kneel beside him, pulling out my phone to take pictures. "Scat? That's a fancy word for poop. Who's the highbrow one now?"

He snorts. "Smart ass."

"How fresh?" I ask, grinning.

"Very." He stands slowly, scanning the area with new alertness. "We should—"

"Oh my God," I breathe, pointing to a set of tracks leading off the main path. "Are those...?"

"Bear tracks. Big ones." His voice has gone tight.

Real bear tracks? This I have to document.

I'm already moving, following the tracks with my phone out, excitement overriding caution. This is exactly what I need for my research—actual evidence of bear activity, documented in real time. Professor Harrison will be so impressed.

" Marley! " Cade's voice cracks like a whip behind me. "Get back here. Now."

"Just a second, I want to get a better angle on these prints—"

I push through a cluster of low pine branches, following the tracks around a massive boulder, and freeze.

Fifty feet away, a black bear the size of a small car is standing on her hind legs, massive head swiveling toward me sniffing the air. And behind her, partially hidden in the brush, I catch a glimpse of movement that makes my blood turn to ice.

Cubs.

The mother bear drops to all fours with a thud that I feel in my bones, and suddenly every wildlife documentary I've ever watched comes flooding back. Mother bears with cubs. The most dangerous situation possible.

She takes a step toward me, huffing, and I realize I can't remember a single thing Cade taught me about bear safety. My brain has gone completely blank except for one thought cycling on repeat: I'm going to die. I'm going to die because I couldn't follow simple instructions.

"Don't move."

Cade's voice comes from directly behind me, low and steady and absolutely calm. I hear the soft crunch of his boots as he steps around me, placing his massive frame between me and eight hundred pounds of protective mother.

"Stay exactly where you are," he says quietly. "Don't run. Don't make any sudden movements."

The bear huffs again, louder this time, and takes another step forward, pawing the ground and throwing sticks and leaves into the air. Cade spreads his arms wide, making himself look even bigger than he already is.

"HEY!" he shouts, his voice booming through the forest. "HEY BEAR! GET BACK!"

The bear stops, head tilting as she assesses this new threat. For a moment that stretches like eternity, they stare at each other—predator and protector, wilderness and civilization, death and the man standing between it and me.

"HEY!" Cade yells again, taking a deliberate step forward. "GET OUT OF HERE!"

The bear huffs one more time, a sound like a steam engine, then slowly turns and melts back into the forest, her cubs scrambling after her. Within seconds, it's like they were never there at all.

I'm shaking so hard I can barely stand. The phone slips from my nerveless fingers, clattering onto the forest floor.

"Jesus Christ," I whisper, then louder, "Oh God—"

He spins around, and the look on his face stops my apology cold. It's not anger, exactly, though there's some of that. It's something rawer, more primal. Fear. Pure, undiluted fear.

"Jesus Christ baby..." He doesn't finish the sentence. Instead, he closes the distance between us in two long strides and pulls me against his chest so hard it drives the air from my lungs.

His heart is hammering against my ear, his breathing ragged. I can feel the tension in every muscle of his body, the way his hands shake slightly as they cradle the back of my head.

"I'm sorry," I whisper into his flannel shirt. "I'm so sorry, Daddy. I broke the rules. I didn't listen."

"You scared the shit out of me." His voice is rough. ”You don’t fucking do that again, you hear me?”

"I know. I got excited about the research and—"

"No." He cups my face, forcing me to look at him. "You didn't think. Out here, not thinking gets you killed."

My eyes burn. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't fix dead." He presses his forehead to mine, breathing slowly. "But you're learning."

I could have died. That bear could have charged, and Cade would have watched me get mauled because I couldn't follow simple instructions.

"I trust you," I whisper. "I do trust you. I just... I don't know why I did that."

"Because you're used to being the smartest person in the room." His thumbs brush away my tears. "Bears don't give a shit about your PhD."

A fat raindrop hits my forehead. Then another. The sky opens up.

"I think that’s enough for today.” Cade growls, his voice rough, tugging me along as we scramble back down the trail toward the cabin.

By the time we reach the weathered wooden structure, we're both drenched despite the canopy overhead. Cade pushes open the heavy door, ushering me into the dim interior as rain drums against the metal roof.

"Get out of those wet clothes," he says, already stripping off his flannel. "You'll catch pneumonia."

I fumble with buttons, fingers shaking from adrenaline and cold. And maybe a little from watching Cade peel off his shirt like some kind of lumberjack calendar model.

He notices my struggle and helps, his touch gentle as he works me out of the damp fabric.

"Arms up," he murmurs, pulling one of his dry shirts over my head. The flannel swamps me, soft and warm and smelling like him.

"I feel like I'm wearing a tent," I say, but I'm secretly thrilled by how completely his scent surrounds me.

"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. "