CAVE MAN NEED WIFE (The First Mountain Man Book 2)

by Frankie Love

  “Are you crying again, woman?”

  “No, I’m just… cold.”

  He grunts. “You watch the fire, I’ll get a pelt.”

  He returns a moment later, draping the heavy animal hide on my shoulders.

  “What was this?” I ask, sitting on a log next to the fire where tiger steaks are cooking over a large, smooth grey stone, running my hand over the fur.

  “A bear.”

  “A bear in Mexico?”

  “Right? Fucking crazy out here.”

  “That’s why you shouldn’t have left me,” I say as he cuts off a hunk of meat from his grill. He skewers it with a wooden fork, setting it on a large green leaf before handing it to me.

  “That mean you wanted me to lie down next to you while you took a nap? Because darling, I would have.”

  I take a bite of the juicy meat, his words hitting home. I’d be lying if the idea didn’t tempt me at least a little. Maybe a lot. I don’t want to be out here by myself. I would much rather his big arms wrap around me, keeping me safe… and warm.

  The wood smoke seems to be heightening my senses, the insects buzzing around us and the soft whispers of the trees swaying making what should be a miserable night a mesmerizing one. The reality of the situation sets in the longer I look at Rock, realizing without him, I’d be in so much trouble right now.

  “You’re smiling, this feels like cause for celebration,” Rock says. “What made you happy? The meat?”

  “Maybe. Honestly, it’s not bad. But I was thinking this place is pretty surreal. Pretty magical, all things considered.”

  “I’d say it’s pretty magical all right.” His eyes are on mine.

  I shake my head. “Are you coming on to me again?”

  “It’s all I want to do.”

  I roll my eyes, eating the meat. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  Hs eyes stay locked on mine. “Oh, Rosalie, I’m starved.”

  4

  Rock

  I want to kiss her here and now, but an owl hoots, breaking our gaze, and hell, it’s probably too much to hope for anyways. A woman like her wanting a beast like me.

  “Where is Chestnut Grove?” she asks.

  “What?” I shake my head, trying to focus, but I can’t tear my eyes away from her pink pouty lips.

  “The shirt, Chestnut Grove?” she points to the words on the tee shirt of mine.

  “Ah, yeah, haven’t thought of that place in a long time. It was where I built a cabin, was going to settle down there after my mission.”

  “You don’t seem like the settling down type.”

  “First impressions can be misleading.”

  “Fair enough. So tell me about yourself.”

  “I was raised by my grandma. Went into the military at eighteen. Spent a decade busting my ass on assignment. Was ready to move on after this mission. Was ready to get married, make my grandma proud. Have a half dozen kids and live in the woods.”

  Rosalie shakes her head. “Wow, you had a whole plan and everything. Did you have a woman picked out too?”

  I laugh, eating another bite of tiger. “Nah, hadn’t met you yet.”

  She scoffs. Damn, she may have a cute ass and a fine rack, but she does not like compliments.

  “So what about you, Rosie? You have a man back home? I’m guessing not since you were on that cave excursion all alone in paradise.”

  She shakes her head. “I’m still waiting for my Prince Charming.” She gives me a smile that falters almost immediately. “Just never met him yet and now… now I’m not sure I ever will.”

  I grunt, annoyed that she’s looking straight through me. “Right, you want a prince. But it’s the beast who saved your life today.”

  I stand, irritated, and walk to the bushes to take a piss. Wishing I had some whisky to take the edge off. Haven’t spoken to a goddamn human in six years and I can’t seem to make her understand that we’re all we’ve got now.

  “Time for bed, don’t want to wait for the bugs out here to bite.” I take the leftover meat off the grill and wrap it in a palm leaf, then head to the cave. “You coming?” I ask.

  “Yeah, just a sec, sorry.” She stands, wringing her hands before following me into the cave.

  I roll the stone over the entrance. “You get the sleeping bag,” I tell her. “I’ll use an extra pelt.” I grab one from the corner and watch as she gingerly gets on the ground, under the sleeping bag. The ground is hard, but I have some grass under it to try and make it more comfortable. I wish I knew what to say to her, but I don’t. And I know my attitude ruined the campfire conversation.

  Didn’t really matter when it was just me out here, but I can tell she is used to more creature comforts and maybe making a bed off the ground would be nicer.

  I’m about to tell her that when she starts her crying again.

  I’ve never comforted a woman like this and I don’t know how. What am I supposed to say? It’ll get better? It probably won’t. It will be easier? I know it won’t. There is nothing I can think to tell her to make this less horrible.

  So I say nothing at all.

  And I feel like an ass, but the thing on my mind as I fall asleep is that even though she’s crying, hating what has happened to her – I’m glad she is here.

  Because I’m so damn tired of living all alone. And she is the answer to all of my prayers. Trouble is, she thinks the exact opposite.

  In the morning I wake early, as usual, and look over at Rosalie, who is still out cold. My cock is fucking hard at the sight of her, all tangled up in the animal furs. The tee shirt has ridden up her leg, exposing her creamy thigh, and my morning wood is stiff as hell.

  I groan, wanting to temper the beast. But it’s near impossible with her nipples hard, poking through her clothes, and her long blonde hair wavy and loose around her shoulders.

  I got to look away.

  I stand, rolling away the rock and taking in the morning. It’s the best time of day here in the jungle, the leaves dewy and the sky pink.

  This morning, however, offers a slightly different view.

  Motherfucker.

  The saber-tooth’s buddy has been lured by the blood. He snarls at me, standing next to my firepit, and I reach for my gun, startling Rosalie as I do. But the gun’s not here. Fuck. I must have left it in the A-frame when I got back yesterday, then forgot to bring it in the cave after my bad attitude last night.

  “Oh my God!” she screams, and I reach for the knife in my pocket.

  I widen my stance, stepping toward the tiger, looking at the A-frame, trying to judge how long it will take to grab my gun.

  I make a leap for it, knowing I must. The tiger leaps, too. My fingers grip the cold metal just as the tiger’s paw runs across my calf, and I fall back, my hand hitting a rock. I see stars but can’t pass out right now. I need to protect my woman.

  “Fuck,” I scream, my leg on fire, before pulling the trigger and taking the tiger out. Been here six years and never shot this thing, now Rosalie is here less than twenty-four hours and I’ve shot it twice.

  The tiger falls, shot between its eyes, and I growl, angry at what’s transpired. How the fuck can I keep my woman safe when there are beasts out here like this, ready to pounce?

  Rosalie is running toward me. “Oh my God,” she sobs. “Rock, look at you.” She gasps, taking in my leg wound.

  Blood everywhere, another fucking tiger at my feet.

  But all I’m thinking is there’s no need to look at me – it’s her that’s got me transfixed.

  She’s like an angel coming toward me, and I know it’s bad timing. But I can’t fucking help it. My leg is in trouble – but so is Rosalie.

  I pull her to me as she drops down at my side, and I lift that sweet chin of hers, making sure her pink lips find mine.

  5

  Rosalie

  When Rock’s lips meet mine, I feel a jolt of desire wind up my body and wrap around my heart – and it scares me. To feel so much in a moment. I pull away.


  It’s a good thing I do, because a split-second later his head falls back, his body slumping to the ground.

  “Oh, God,” I groan, not knowing what to do. How to do this. He’s passed out and I’m the only one on earth who can help.

  Why did I study English when a nursing degree would really be a lot more beneficial? Comma placements are useless in the wilderness.

  The tiger Rock shot is dead, ten feet away, and I hate the idea of another predator coming close when Rock is not yet conscious.

  I need to stop the bleeding – that is the first thing. I rush to the cave and find strips of cloth – what look like pieces of an old flannel shirt – and a small first aid kit. The gash on his leg is several inches long and the supplies in the kit won’t do a darn thing.

  Groaning, I grab the water bottle and race back to him. “Here, drink this,” I tell him. “Come on, you can do this.”

  But his eyes don’t flutter and so I focus on the wound. I press the fabric to it tightly, praying that it helps stop the bleeding. “Wake up, Rock. I need you. You got this.”

  Tears blur my vision as I hold tight to the gash, wanting Rock to come back to consciousness.

  Minutes pass, longer. The sun rises, the jungle wakes up around me, but my focus stays on Rock.

  Eventually the bleeding lessens, and I’m able to clean the wound, wringing out the blood, and then I wrap his shin in the flannel, thankful to have the cloth at all. I walk to the pond, rinsing off my hands and refilling his water bottle under the waterfall. My body shakes, terror coursing through me, feeling so lonely and vulnerable without Rock alert and able to protect me. I drink the entire thing, needing to stay hydrated and alert, before refilling it and returning to Rock.

  He is such a big man, strong and sturdy, and I know he’d hate the idea of being out cold. I need him to wake up. Tears fill my eyes as I squeeze his hand. “Come on, Rock, wake up.”

  Thinking of the jolt of fire that went through me when his lips met mine, I decide to try it myself, to see if it might wake him up.

  I lean over him, brushing back his long, thick hair. His eyelashes are long, his beard thick, his smell so masculine and alluring. My body warms as I take in his broad shoulders and chiseled abdomen, knowing he is not the kind of man I have ever been around. I’ve never dated seriously – only random blind dates and setups from well-meaning friends and family. I’m a nerd who feels safest behind the pages of a book – but there is nothing to hide behind here. Everything is out in the open.

  I press my lips to Rock’s, sinking into them, wanting to light that spark inside him – but it’s me that is lit. God, it feels good to be so close to him.

  My hands are on either side of his face, and when his lips part and his tongue finds mine, I whimper at the heat rising within me.

  His hands move down my backside, reaching for my ass, and when my eyes jolt open, his eyes are open too.

  I pull back. “You’re awake!”

  “I sure as hell am.”

  I scramble off of him, realizing that mid-kiss I’d mounted him, straddling this hulk as if he was my prey.

  Mortified, I press my hand to my mouth. “I was trying to wake you up. You passed out after the tiger clawed you.”

  He grins. “You cleaned me up?” He looks down at the bandage on his leg.

  “I did my best.”

  “And you thought kissing me might get my attention?”

  I nod. “I wasn’t trying to, like, make a move, I was just…” My words trail off as I take in all of Rock. Under his loincloth I see the outline of his cock – long and thick and hard.

  Oh my word.

  “Seemed like you were enjoying that kiss,” he says, easing himself up.

  Knowing the truth in his words, I take a deep breath. “It worked, so that’s good.”

  “Sure did.” He won’t take his eyes off me. “You hungry, Rosie?”

  I bite my bottom lip, holding back a moan. Am I hungry? Gosh, I feel starved, but I want something I’ve never had before. Him. A man who is ridiculously cocky with ideas in his head that just won’t do… but it seems like I suddenly have ideas of my own.

  “I am. What do you usually have for breakfast?”

  He tries to stand, but he needs help. I take his arm. “Let me help get you under the A-frame,” I say. “Is this where you hang out during the day?”

  “I don’t do much hanging. Usually work on gathering food, staying alive. Keeping the perimeter safe, which clearly isn’t working too well if that damn tiger felt confident in getting so fucking close.”

  “Don’t get upset, you need to rest,” I say as he eases down under the shade that sits a few feet off the ground. He has several fur pelts over large palm leaves for comfort, and it’s cozier than the cave. But I can see why at night it would be impossible to rest if you were out in the open like this, vulnerable to the elements.

  “I hate resting,” he says.

  “I can imagine, but you can’t walk until your leg heals. It was a pretty bad cut.”

  “I have to deal with that damn tiger.”

  “Not this second. You need to sit here and let me take care of you.”

  He grins at that. “You wanna take care of me? Because I have plenty of ideas for that.”

  “Stop,” I say, though I admit to smiling back. He is so damn confident it shocks me.

  Rock walks me through breakfast. There is a papaya tree a few feet away, and a lime tree too. “For protein, catch us a fish.”

  I laugh. “A fish? How?”

  “There’s a basket trap in the water. I made it with wooden slats. There’s usually something in there in the morning.”

  “Wow,” I say, walking to the water’s edge. “I’m impressed.” He tells me where the trap is, and I reach into it, finding a silvery fish the size of my forearm.

  I bring the fish to Rock, along with his knife, and he shows me how to gut it, how to fillet it.

  “I’ll need to watch you more than a few times to remember,” I admit.

  “How are you with fire? Because it needs stoking.” He must see the doubt on my face because he tells me what kindling to use and which sticks I should add to it. Following his directions, the fire begins to blaze and I place the fish fillets on the stone grill in the center of the pit, then begin making us a papaya and lime salad, placing the diced fruit in a bowl he carved from a piece of wood.

  “What would you have done out here without this knife?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “I don’t want to know. It is a terrifying prospect.”

  “I wish I had brought some supplies with me.”

  “It’s not like you were planning on this little detour.”

  I reach into the salad bowl for a chunk of the perfectly ripe fruit. “I sure wasn’t.”

  “What were you planning? For your life? I told you about my dreams for my cabin, what are yours?”

  I twist my lips. “I know you joked about being married, but for me, that’s what I wanted too. I had this idea of falling in love—"

  “With the Prince Charming, I remember. You wanted to get married at a fancy ass resort like your sister?”

  I shake my head. “No. My sister wanted her exotic destination wedding, but I wanted to get married at a chapel, in a big white dress. My dad would have given his blessing on the union, of course. And of course he would walk me down the aisle.” I sigh. “My dad is the best man I know. We moved around a lot when I was growing up because he was in the military, but whenever he came home, it was like magic. He could make even the simplest moment feel special.”

  “My grandpa was my role model growing up. When I joined the special forces, there was this one man, my sergeant for lots of years. He was incredible. All the guys looked up to Sergeant Langham.”

  “Langham?” My eyes widen and my heart races. “Did you say Sergeant Langham?”

  Rock nods. “Yeah, and crazy as it is, I saved the man’s life once when we were getting out of Baghdad. It was a close fucking call too, bu
t I pulled him away from a blast just in time.” He chuckles but my heart, it pounds. “He told me if we were living in the Stone Age, he’d give me his daughter’s hand in marriage as a thank you gift.”

  I gasp, tears in my eyes.

  “What is it? You okay?” Rock asks. “Damn, the fish, it’s gonna burn to a crisp,” he says, moving to stand before remembering he can’t get there on his own.

  I scurry over to the grill, using a stick to skewer the fish, placing it on one of the palm leaves that Rock has stacked nearby for just this reason.

  My mind races though. My hands shake. As I walk back to the A-frame, I try to collect myself.

  Because I thought time travelling was insane… but the really crazy thing is Rock knows my dad.

  And my dad owes this man his life.

  6

  Rock

  I don’t know what I went and said this time to upset Rosalie, but she’s in tears once again as she brings the half-charred fish back to our little hut.

  Reaching for a slice of lime, I season the fish, then take her a piece. “You always cry so much?”

  She laughs, tight. “No, not really. I was pretty steady back home. I worked in an office, a nine-to-five job. I was an editor, which doesn’t exactly give us a leg up in the jungle. I should have studied something more practical.”

  “You write too?” I ask, curious about her in ways that surprise me. When I first laid eyes on her I knew she was fucking gorgeous, but after one day I know she is so much more than a pretty face and cute ass. She is complicated and mesmerizing and gentle in ways I’ve never been. I want to know everything about this woman, even if I’ve come to see I am not the sort of man she envisioned herself with.

  “I’ve always wanted to, but thought my life was a little too boring. Hemingway said you need to have experiences if you want to have something to say. I haven’t done much besides go to school and get a job. This is my first time out of the country.”