by Vivien Vale
“How about looking at me while I eat breakfast?”
“That’d probably be safer.” I kiss Emma once more on the cheek.
“Probably. Now let me wash my face.”
Emma doesn’t mind me staying in the bathroom, absorbed in her beauty, while she washes her face and spends a minute considering her reflection.
After Emma finishes, I remind her of how painfully gorgeous she looks.
“Ridiculous.”
“What?”
“And staggering.”
“Oh, that.”
Emma and I leave the bathroom together to go downstairs for breakfast.
“I like staggering,” she says with a grin. “Stick with that one.”
Emma and I stop at the top of the stairs and regard each other. So far, it’s the happiest moment I’ve had in this cabin by a wide fucking margin.
“Are you going to cook me breakfast, or what?” Emma smiles, all traces of sadness gone.
“Fine, I’ll hurry.”
I bound down the stairs, taking two at a time.
“Don’t try this at home,” I say.
I’m also thinking about breakfast, mostly about preparing it quickly but also making it the best breakfast Emma’s ever had. It’ll be a challenge, but I can do it.
At the bottom of the stairs, I start making a mental list of the ingredients I can get to quickly—flour, brown sugar, maple syrup, eggs, of course…
“What the... Dylan, were you robbed?”
The very words send me into a total fucking head spin. Emma’s behind me, still slowly walking down the stairs.
Her question triggers parts of me that lie dormant but are always close to the surface—like the part that knows danger is just around the corner.
All thoughts of breakfast leave my mind as soon as I see several bins and bags of sugar, flour, and oatmeal strewn on the floor in front of me.
“Is somebody here now?” Emma asks, her voice tense and low. She stops walking down the stairs entirely.
There’s a shuffling sound coming from the kitchen, and I start walking towards it. No one. “No, there’s nobody here,” I say.
Suddenly, there’s a loud crash and the sound of glass breaking. Emma gasps.
“Actually, let me clarify that: there’s nobody here that we don’t know.”
I hear Emma take a tentative step down the stairs.
“What?”
“It’s just our new friend, Emma. He’s also interested in breakfast, and he’s taking matters into his own hands.”
He must know we’re talking about him, because the bear walks up to us as soon as I start cleaning the mess.
“I’m afraid breakfast will be a little delayed this morning,” I call to Emma, shaking my fucking head. I knew it was a fucking mistake to bring the bear here.
Emma
“Wait,” I say to the bear cub. His big, brown eyes stare at me, melting my heart.
Maybe this is what it feels like to have a child.
There’s no way I can be angry about the massive clean-up, not when I look at those beautiful, brown bear cub eyes.
All he needs to do is give me one look with those sweet eyes, and I’m ready to forgive and forget. After all, he’s so small, and he’s been through so much at such a young age.
I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose your mother when you’re only a few months old.
“Isn’t he cute?”
I turn to Dylan, who’s busy in the kitchen. I’m not quite sure what he’s doing, but I hope he’s cooking breakfast. I’m hungry.
“I guess you could call him that. You could also call him hard work, a pain in the ass, and a fucking nuisance who’ll grow up to eat me out of house and home.”
He mumbles something else, which kind of sounds like Just like real children, but I may have misunderstood.
I laugh and ruffle the bear’s fur. The little creature rolls onto his back, and I rub his tummy.
After that, I decide it’s time for me to go and see if Dylan needs help in the kitchen.
Baby bear playfully growls at me as I try to leave. He stands on his hind legs, front paws reaching up to me.
I read his signal loud and clear.
“I get it, I get it.” I laugh and bend down to pick him up.
“I wouldn’t,” Dylan grumbles from the kitchen, and I feign ignorance.
“Do what?” I know exactly what Dylan’s going to say, but I’m playing dumb on this one.
“Pick him up just because he wants you to. Next minute, you’ll be his personal slave, and you’ll have to do whatever he wants.”
“I think you’re exaggerating. He’s an innocent little baby bear. How could he possibly have ulterior motives?”
“You mark my words.” Dylan points at me with his whisk as I carry the bear into the kitchen.
“How much do you want to bet it won’t take long before he’ll stop wanting to be carried? I bet it’ll be before he’s a year old.”
Dylan just shakes his head.
I can see past the gruff exterior. I know he’s already taken with the furry bundle of joy, but he still feels the need to act like his grizzly old self.
As if to add weight to my words, the bear puts his head on my shoulders and snuggles into me, with his big brown eyes looking right at me.
“Ohhh, look at this. He likes me.”
A kind of warm glow wraps itself around me. I’ve never felt as if anyone ever really liked me for me or needed me the way this bear does.
This is amazing—another being that’s totally dependent on me.
Wow.
Of course, I’m still on a high from last night. In fact, last night deserves another ‘Wow’. Maybe even a double ‘Wow’.
It was actually fucking awesome is all I can say. Just thinking about it sends little shivers of pleasure down my skin.
“He needs a name,” I say, approaching Dylan who’s cooking breakfast. “We can’t just keep calling him baby bear or cub.”
“Why not?”
I roll my eyes.
“Because he needs a name,” I insist.
“Next, you’ll be planning his twenty-first.”
Is it my imagination, or is Dylan not especially friendly with our houseguest?
Wait a minute. Did I really just refer to the bear as our houseguest? I mean, this isn’t my place. Technically, I should be thinking of the baby bear as Dylan’s houseguest.
Sooner or later, I’ll have to return to my life.
My life.
How strange are those words?
And how long ago it now seems.
I mean, I’ve only been here, like, two days, but it feels more like two years.
Is it that good? Or that bad?
“It’s just a name,” I insist.
I actually have a few ideas in mind already. How I’m going to run them past Dylan is beyond me.
“He’s a wild animal. One day, he’ll need to be returned to the wild. You know, the place out there.” He waves his hand toward the front door. “And he may not want to have some human name to haunt him. What if the other bears make fun of him?”
“Why would they?”
“Because it’s not bear enough.”
I nod. “Of course. I understand, but that doesn’t mean we can’t give him a name right now, one that’s bear enough.” I pat his fur and think. “He might even have a name already. How do we know his mom didn’t give him one? I once read bears are highly intelligent creatures.”
Dylan pays me no attention, instead focusing on whisking his eggs.
“How about Dior?”
Now he does look at me. “You’re fucking kidding, right?”
“What’s wrong with Dior? It’s a perfectly...”
“You can’t name a bear after a French fashion designer.”
I shake my head and roll my eyes to the heavens.
“And here I was, thinking you knew nothing of such things,” I say, laughing at the way he rolls his eyes. “What do you suggest?”
I lean against the kitchen counter and grab some of the egg cooking in the saucepan.
Dylan playfully smacks me on the arm. The bear, however, gobbles up the little bit of food I offer him.
“Bob,” Dylan mumbles. “But I really don’t think he should have a name at all.”
“Blah, blah, blah.”
I poke my tongue out at Dylan. He grabs me, and I struggle playfully against him.
Then, his mouth finds mine, and he kisses me tenderly. When the baby bear licks us both over the cheek, Dylan pulls away.
“Now that’s going too far,” he growls and starts washing his face in the kitchen sink.
I laugh.
“Boss. Why don’t we call him Boss?”
“What is it with you and designers?”
“He’s bossy, so the name fits,” I reply shrugging. “It doesn’t matter that it was inspired by Hugo Boss, does it?”
Dylan grabs me again.
“As long as you don’t admit it to anyone else, let’s go with Boss.”
Out pokes Boss’ tongue again, but Dylan is faster this time. Holding up three plates in hands, Dylan directs us to the dining table.
Obediently, Boss sits down next to me.
“Look at his good manners,” I say to Dylan, who’s trying hard not to laugh.
I feed Boss his scrambled eggs, staying vigilant to make sure he doesn’t devour mine as well.
Feeding a baby bear is harder than it looks.
Throughout breakfast, I struggle to stop Boss from knocking my plate off the table or knocking the fork out of my hand.
“He sure has a healthy appetite,” I observe when his plate is licked clean.
I look across the table at Dylan, awaiting his reaction.
For some reason, he looks super-serious.
“You okay?”
He leans forward and pats the back of my hand. “I was about to ask you the same question. I mean, after last night and all that’s happened, are you alright?”
Well, that does it.
Tears well up in my eyes. His voice is so soft, so full of concern that it makes my heart feel like it’s about to explode.
“Oh, Dylan,” I sob and wipe my face with a napkin. “I can’t believe I said those horrible things to you and...” I stop, fighting back more tears. I need to take a deep breath.
“I just wanted to thank you for all you’ve done for me,” I continue. “Part of me is still coming to terms with your decision to just abandon me in the past, but I do kind of understand what motivated you.”
I watch his face anxiously.
“I mean it. Thank you. Thank you for protecting me and rescuing me.” I pause and look at my plate. “And thank you for last night.”
I watch Dylan get up and walk over to my side of the table. He slides onto the seat next me.
Boss is watching closely.
“You’re welcome,” he says. He sounds so goddamn earnest that I can’t help laughing.
I hold my breath and watch his lips approaching mine.
They seem to be moving at a snail’s pace, and, when he’s halfway there, I close my eyes in anticipation of our kiss.
His lips are rough and surrounded by his beard. I melt into the kiss.
Boss snuggles into me.
Suddenly, there’s nothing else but this kiss, Dylan, the baby bear, and me.
I can feel the little fellow’s head resting against my side while Dylan pushes down on me.
His tongue probes my lips and then demands entry. I give him everything I have. I let him taste my soul.
Part of me wants this moment to last forever. A longing starts between my legs, and I’m surprised at my own body for being so eager.
I seem to have turned into some kind of sex addict, unable to get enough of my bear-man and his massive twelve inches.
When his mouth leaves my lips, I feel empty. It seems as if we’re meant to be together, like night and day, yin and yang, the sun and the rain.
I know it’s a flight of fancy to think long-term, but it would be nice.
I stop myself from continuing down this path paved with daydreams. I’m getting way ahead of myself.
Just because there was one amazing fuck between us doesn’t mean we’re cut out for a long-term relationship.
Dylan’s said nothing about wanting to be with me for a long time. Plus, we’re just so...different now.
Dylan seems to be at home in the wilderness, and I need clothing boutiques, a latte, and a hairdresser just to get through the week. It would never work out between us.
Dylan
As soon as our lips meet, I want to pick her up and fuck her again.
She’s so fucking hot and sexy. But I know better than to take advantage of the situation. Besides, there’s Boss the bear cub and a trashed cabin.
I may be a man of the wild, but that does not mean I live in squalor.
After meals, I wash the dishes straight away. Once the food dries on them, they’re fucking hard to clean.
Sometimes you’ve got to put business before pleasure. God knows, I haven’t always operated this way.
I mean, there were times when I had a one-night stand with some chick whose name I would forget the next day. Back then, I went through chicks like other men go through shirts.
Those days are long gone. I’ve had plenty of time to get my priorities right.
I pull away. Plenty of time for sex later.
“Well,” I say, looking at them both. “The dishes won’t wash themselves.”
My eyes survey the room. There’s shit everywhere. I’ve got no fucking idea what this bear got up to in the night.
I sigh. “And the cabin will stay like this if we sit all day long.”
Emma ruffles Boss’ fur before she picks up the plates and takes them into the kitchen.
“Well, then,” she smiles and gives me a little kiss on the tip of my nose. “Let’s get a move on.”
Before she walks away, I grab her hand and stop her. She tilts her head to the left.
“Not without paying the fucking toll,” I growl.
She laughs. “The toll,” she says, turning to Boss. “What do you think the toll is, my little one?”
Boss stares at her with those big brown bear eyes and licks his lips with his rather large tongue.
“Oh, I see.” She says as if the bear had just told her what to do. “Well then, we better pay it.”
Our eyes meet as she leans into me for a kiss.
I find it fucking hard to let her go. The fire ignites in me, and I’m tempted to leave the dishes till later.
But before I can pick her up and throw her over my shoulder, Boss stands on his back legs, and I feel his rough bear tongue on my cheek.
“Ohhh, Boss,” I groan and wipe my face.
Emma scoots into the kitchen. Boss howls and clumsily gets off his chair to follow what he now thinks is his mother.
Abandoned, I, too, go into the kitchen. Along the way, I pick up old newspapers and shredded boxes, the remains of a bored bear last night.
When I offer to wash up, she shakes her head. “You cooked; the least I can do is clean the dishes.”
“Do you know how to wash the dishes?” I tease, and Emma grins.
She throws a bit of water in my direction. Soapsuds settle in my beard. I’ve got nothing to retaliate with.
“It’s never too late to learn.” She holds up one of the plates. “But you know,” she says, turning it around a few times, “I could always let Boss lick them clean.”
There’s a sparkle in her eyes I haven’t seen before. She seems a new woman today.
“Don’t you dare,” I cry in pretend horror and try to wrestle it from her. Since she’s near the sink, I earn myself another splash and leave her to it.
“How about I dry?” I offer, looking for the tea towel. It takes me a minute or so to spot the shreds of material scattered all over the floor.
“Boss,” I begin, turning to the bear cub, “did you do this
?” I hold up a bit of material.
The bear shakes his head and wipes his nose with his paw. Then, he stumbles toward Emma.
“Oh, poor Boss. Is he being mean to you?”
“Me, mean?” I protest and hold up the remains of the shredded tea towel. “I’m not the one who destroyed this.”
“Why don’t you just pick him up and nurse him?” Emma suggests.
It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Shouldn’t you nurse the bear?”
She laughs and shakes her head. “It’s all right. I don’t mind if you nurse him. I’m happy to share.”
I stare at the bear with mixed fucking feelings. He represents domestic bliss and, at the same time, heartache. He’ll grow up and will need to be released into the wild.
Once there, what’s to stop a fucking poacher shooting him dead like his mother? Boss may even be more fucking vulnerable because he’ll have had contact with humans.
I shake my head. This is not going to end well.
“Some male bonding will do him good,” Emma prompts and puts the last of the dishes onto the drying rack.
“Come here.” I turn to Boss and pick him up.
He does not resist. On the contrary, he’s quite keen to check out what’s happening.
“Dishes are done,” Emma announces and looks at me, hands on her hips. “Now what?”
I thrust my chin toward the cupboard. “Dustpan and broom in there to sweep up. Our little friend here made quite the mess last night.”
Without argument, Emma hands me the broom. It is fucking difficult to sweep with a bear in my arm, so I sit Boss down.
Turns out it was a big mistake. Instead of staying put, Boss starts to chase after the broom. Like a cat, he puts out his paw to swipe it.
“Hey,” I grumble at him, but he pays no fucking attention to me whatsoever. “Stop it,” I say again, using my fiercest voice.
Emma slaps me with the dustpan. “Don’t scare the little fellow.”
I stop sweeping and look her straight in the eye. “Give me a break, does he look scared to you?” I point to the cub still trying to rip the broom out of my hand.
Emma pouts. There’s the urge again to pick her up and throw her over my shoulder for another fuck upstairs.
“But you look angry at him,” she persists, and I roll my eyes.
“At this rate, we’ll never get the place cleaned up,” I complain.
