by Renee Rose
Stop!
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I pad to the kitchenette to find us some food. I’m hangry as hell, and I’ll bet she is too. Food will calm the bear down.
“What’s your name?” Her voice starts off wobbly but finishes on a strong note, like she’s forcing herself to be assertive.
“Caleb.” I don’t dare look at her. Not when all I can think about is making those breasts dance. I open the refrigerator and pull out two packages of bacon, the eggs, milk and butter.
“I’m Miranda.” Her voice is musical to my ears. Her name is a goddamn song. I can’t stop myself from taking a look.
Fuck, she’s beautiful. Her auburn hair tumbles in tangled waves across her shoulders. Her eyes are green, with lashes I can barely see because they’re the same color as her hair. The uneasy expression on her face makes me turn quickly away.
I fire up the two front gas burners and put frying pans on them to heat, then pull out a bowl and the box of pancake mix. “Just Miranda? Not Doctor Somebody?” Fates, am I making chit chat?
That’s not like me at all. I don’t talk much. To anyone. I especially don’t make useless conversation to make people feel more comfortable.
Apparently now I do.
She lets out a surprised laugh—a sound that instantly relaxes my bear. “Well, I do have a doctorate. But no one calls me that.” Her voice turns suspicious. “What made you think I’m a Ph.D.?”
“Research lab,” I grunt. “I saw you driving up there yesterday.”
Not a lie.
I leave out the part where I rubbed my nose on her window looking in at her prancing around in her little tank top.
I arrange one package of bacon in the frying pan and then crack six eggs into a bowl to make a large batch of pancakes.
“Why don’t you use the title? I imagine you worked hard for those letters.” I risk another glance over my shoulder at her.
Damn. She’s no less enticing in my sweatpants. She fills them out with her ample hips and curvy ass. They’re too long for her, of course, but she’s pulled them up and rolled the waistband down until it rests on her hip bones. Fuck, she’s beautiful.
Surprise flits over her face at my words. I don’t even know what made me say them, just that I have a feeling she doesn’t demand enough respect from the people around her.
“I don’t like to be pretentious,” she says, but her brows drop down. “Although I guess all the men in my department insist they be called Doctor.”
“What department is that?”
Mark it down. This must be a record for the most conversation I’ve made in three years.
The bacon starts to sizzle as I combine the ingredients for the pancakes and pull a package of frozen wild blueberries out of the freezer.
“Ecology. That’s a lot of packages of blueberries in your freezer.” Her voice is close, like she walked into the kitchen. Well, it’s technically all one room—kitchen, dining, living room. One main area, two bedrooms and a bath. I built it myself for my mate.
She opens my freezer. I bristle at having her in my kitchen, in the space Jen used to occupy, but then I have another problem.
“Wow. So trout and blueberries. Do you eat anything else?”
I cringe inwardly. My freezer is packed with bear food. It probably looks strange to a human.
“I eat bacon,” I grunt, flipping the pancakes. “And pancakes.” Then, to distract her, I say, “How are you feeling today? Any numbness or pain in your fingers or toes? Ears? Tip of your nose?” I didn’t see anything that looked like frostbite last night, but I also was in a hurry to get her in the sleeping bag and warmed up, so it’s not like I gave her a thorough examination.
And that thought shouldn’t give me a throbbing hard on, but it does.
My nostrils flare and I swivel my hips more firmly away from her so she won’t see her effect on me.
“Um, no. I think I’m okay. Thanks to you.”
Her hesitant gratitude creates a surprising warmth in my chest. Which is dumb. I certainly didn’t expect or desire her thanks.
“I’m not even going to ask what the hell you were doing out there, because I’m pretty sure it’s gonna make me want to turn you over my knee.”
She draws in a sharp breath.
Oh fuck. I shouldn’t have said that.
I give her my back, turning the bacon, piling pancakes onto a plate and tossing one down to her dog. Over the scent of the bacon and pancakes, I catch her scent.
That sweet arousal.
Fuck me now.
Seriously? She’s turned on by my comment? I didn’t need to know that.
I really didn’t.
Because now I can’t stop thinking about just how much I’d love to bend her over and smack that ass red for nearly freezing to death.
“That was entirely inappropriate.” Her voice sounds strangled.
I’m not asshole enough not to turn around now. I find her cheeks flushed pink, eyes snapping. The way her chest rises and falls too quickly makes me think of how I’d like to make her lose her breath in other ways.
“You’re right,” I admit. “I’m a dick. And I don’t get company too often. I’m rusty on what to say to a woman I stripped naked but didn’t fuck.”
Oh for fates’ sake! Now I’m really digging a hole.
The scent of her arousal grows stronger. “Okay, probably you’d better stop before it gets worse,” she warns and I’m surprised to feel my lips quirk at the edges.
My cock lengthens down the leg of my jeans.
“Who are you?” she demands suddenly, like she senses my differences. That I’m an entirely different species from her.
I turn back to the stove, pouring three neat circles of batter on the frying pan and dropping frozen blueberries onto them. “I’m no one.”
Of course that sounds entirely suspicious. The scent of her arousal disappears, replaced the metallic scent of fear.
She’s probably been warned about that missing women up here. Does she think I’m the killer?
I rack my brain to think of something to say that will put her at ease, but nothing occurs to me. All I can think to do is to make breakfast and keep my mouth shut. I put a coffee pot onto brew, then scoop the first package of bacon out of the frying pan and put in another. “Here,” I grunt, dropping the plate piled high with pancakes and a plate with bacon onto the small table that sits by the window. The window which is halfway covered by a snowdrift. Her dog follows closely, pleading eyes on me.
“You must be hungry.” I slide the plate of butter onto the table, along with the jug of honey.
She stands over the table while I pour some coffee, her nervous energy making me want to go back into hibernation. It’s my default response to anything that requires emotion. Or effort. Or any spark of living.
I hand her a plate and fork and lift my chin to the chair at the table. She takes them wordlessly and sits down. I toss a piece of bacon to the dog, sit down across from her and slather my pile of pancakes with honey.
She watches me dubiously. “Sweet tooth, eh?”
I look down at the amount of honey on the cakes as I take a huge bite. I suppose it is a lot. I shrug. “I guess,” I say with my mouth full. “I like honey.”
I think I detect amusement in her expression, but we eat without speaking. I shouldn’t care whether she likes the food or not, but my bear is stupidly pleased when she cleans her plate and reaches for seconds.
“Well, what now? I don’t suppose you have a snowmobile here? Or some other way for me to get back to the research cabin?”
I get up and retrieve the second batch of bacon and set it on the table. “Doctor M, you’re not going anywhere.”
Chapter 5
Miranda
Two thought wheels turn at once. One—he called me doctor, which shows respect, even admiration. Except two—he just implied I have no choice in the matter of whether I’m leaving or not.
It’s the second thought I get
hitched up on. “Excuse me?” The feminist in me rears her head, ready to defend myself against yet another man who thinks he can control me.
Caleb—the surly mountain man with twelve-pack abs arches a brow right back at me. “You heard me.” He takes a bite of bacon. By bite I mean he crunches off half of three slices at once and chews them slowly while giving me the stink eye.
I try to interpret his words. I mean, I suppose it’s obvious I can’t leave. That’s probably what he’s saying. But I don’t like the way he said it. Because he’s either being a controlling asshole or he’s the psychopathic killer who plans to keep me here and bury me in the basement.
Okay, I don’t think the cabin actually has a basement, but in the backyard, then.
“You’re saying I can’t leave?”
“Yep. That’s what I’m saying.”
I narrow my eyes. “Are you going try and stop me?”
“Sure am. You know why? Cause even if you can hike more than ten feet from this cabin in drifts that are already up to your chest—which I seriously doubt you can—the trail’s covered and you don’t know your way back. You’ll likely fall into a drift and this time end up with frostbite. Then I’ll have to go out in the cold and drag you back.” He finishes his epic speech by taking a gulp of coffee.
I fold my arms across my chest. He isn’t wrong. I just don’t want to be stuck in a remote cabin with Mr. Grumpy for days. Even if Mr. Grumpy also happens to be Mr. Tall, Dark, Tattooed and Bearded with a sexy mountain man vibe. Especially because of that.
“Fine. I’m not going anywhere. But for the record, I didn’t choose to be stuck up here with you.”
“Makes two of us.” He glowers at me behind his coffee mug. “What the hell made you come all the way up here in this weather anyway?”
“I didn’t think it was going to be this bad,” I say through a clenched jaw. “And it wasn’t snowing when I left the research cabin yesterday. The storm came up suddenly, and I got disoriented. I’m not stupid.” I get up and take our dishes to the sink.
“Didn’t think you were, Doctor M.” He emphasizes doctor. Is he mocking me?
“I am under a deadline. I need this data., it’s important.” There’s no dishwasher, so I start washing the dishes by hand and put them in the drying rack.
“Not worth your life,” he mutters. I steal a look over my shoulder. Something in his expression reminds me of Dr. Alogore and my smirking colleagues.
“You know what? Forget it. You wouldn’t understand.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” His black eyes flash with a glint of yellow. Great, I’ve antagonized him. Probably not the best idea, but riling him up gives me a shot of satisfaction. I get the feeling he hasn’t talked to, much less verbally sparred with anyone in awhile. Well, he said as much already, didn’t he? “I’m not stupid either, sweetheart.”
“Please do not call me sweetheart.” I point a finger at him.
He shrugs. “You’re in my cabin. You’ll have to put up with my ways. I mean no harm by it.”
I snort. “It’s patronizing.”
“Lady, what’s your problem?”
The lady gets to me, too. “You wanna know?” I throw my hands up. “You want to know what my problem is? My problem is every man I’ve ever met tries to tell me what to do. Treats me like a doormat and tramples all over me. I have news for you, buddy.” My voice rises now. “You think you’re God’s gift to the green earth, and women are just here to massage your egos, suck your cocks and, I don’t know, be eye candy. But we’re not. We’re not here for you.”
Caleb stares at me like I’m a hissing goose. Which I guess I am. It’s weird but it feels good to give a man a piece of my mind for a change. Something I can’t ever do back at the lab, since the entire science world is ruled by men. One wrong word and you’re forever passed over for the good positions.
“I don’t know what a man did to you, but there’s no reason to take it out on me.”
Finished with the dishes, I slump into a chair. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated to be stranded here without my computer. I have so much to do and no way to do it.” Bear comes and licks my hand.
“And I’d rather be asleep on the couch. But we’re stuck together, so we might as well make the best of it.”
The washing machine buzzes and I surge to my feet, grateful for something—anything to do. I throw my clothes in the dryer and start it up.
Everything in the cabin is neat and clean. Well-maintained. It’s simple and rustic, but not completely without creature comforts. For example, I noticed there was a garbage disposal in the kitchen sink. And there are ceiling fans in the living area.
Observe the rustic mountain man in his natural habitat...
I clear my throat. “Do you suppose it will snow all day?”
Caleb looks out the window. “Might. Either way, you won’t be leaving. I’d count on staying at least one more night here. Maybe two if it doesn’t stop snowing.” He lifts his chin in the direction of what must be the bedrooms. “You can take the room on the left. There’s sheets in the top drawer of the dresser.”
“Thank you.” I’m regretting my outburst. It’s strange I felt comfortable enough to get snappish with a stranger. Maybe the manner we spent the night last night has something to do with it. “I do appreciate your hospitality. I didn’t mean to sound—”
He waves me off. “Save it. I don’t require an apology. Not when my manners are shit.”
Well. That shouldn’t make my chest turn all warm and fluttery. I have no idea why I’m so attracted to this man.
I head into the bedroom to put the sheets on the bed. It’s painted in lavender. A single twin bed stands against one wall, the mattress bare. I find sheets in the drawer, like he said. Flowered sheets.
Caleb definitely doesn’t strike me as the purple-walled flowered sheet kind of man. Not even for a guest bed. So who bought the sheets? Did they come with the place? Maybe he rents and his landlord provided them. Except I feel certain it’s his place. It just reflects him so well.
I make the bed and throw the folded comforter I find in the closet—also flowered in bright cheery colors—over the top. I should just stay in this room and give him some space. The place is small and he didn’t ask for a guest, after all.
Except it’s chillier in the room. There’s no fire. And nothing to do.
Oh, who am I kidding? There’s no Caleb. And I’m drawn to the man like a bear to honey.
I head back into the main area, suddenly remembering I should have my iPad and tree ring samples in my backpack. That would give me something to work on.
“Caleb?”
He jerks and I smother a laugh. The man fell asleep in the few minutes I was out of the room. I guess he didn’t sleep well last night with me plastered up against his body.
“Did I have a backpack on when you rescued me?”
“Erm, yes.” He rubs his face and surges to his feet. His long legs flex powerfully and he makes the movement look graceful despite his large size and the low couch. He retrieves my backpack from behind the front door. “Here you go.”
“Thank God,” I breathe, more to myself than to him. “I can start cataloguing.”
Caleb
Damn, this female is going to drive me apeshit. And not just because she’s a pain in the ass—which she is. More because being trapped in this small space with her is doing raunchy things to my bear.
Ideally I could just go to my bedroom, shut the door and sleep until it’s time for her to leave. But humans don’t hibernate, and she would think it’s weird. Plus, she keeps waking me up for shit.
She bustles past me, muttering to herself, “The male of the species masters only the most basic life skills. More advanced nesting techniques are left to the female, who will create a nurturing environment for her offspring—”
“What the fuck?” I blurt and she whirls, face red.
“What?” Her lips move, shaping excuses. “Um, did I say
that out loud? Sorry, I entertain myself by pretend narrating. It’s just a stupid game.”
Damn, her face is so cute. With her flushed cheeks and parted lips, she looks freshly fucked and pleasured.
No. No. No. Do not think about that…
“Just—” I wave my hand towards the opposite end of the cabin. “Stay over there.”
Great. Way to be hospitable.
She stomps off, muttering something about, “Long periods of isolation can result in loss of basic courtesy and knowledge of social interactions…”
I’m thankful when she falls silent, but nothing helps me forget she’s there. Having her here is a special form of torture. I can’t just hang around doing nothing with her all up in my space. Her strawberries and vanilla ice cream scent tickles my nose. Her uppity feminist sensibilities riles my temper. Her curvy body looks so ripe for a pounding. My bear claws to the surface so fast my vision changes. I blink rapidly, shoving him back down.
Shit! Stop thinking about pounding her.
Stop. Thinking.
Maybe what I should do is go into the bedroom and jack off. Just to take the pressure off. My cock twitches against my jeans in favor of that idea.
But the cabin’s so quiet she’d probably hear me.
Christ, why don’t I have a television? Radio? Anything to create some comfortable distance between me and this human female?
Chapter 6
Miranda
Caleb snoozes behind a National Geographic with grizzly bears on the cover most of the morning. He doesn’t move from the couch until lunchtime, when he makes us turkey sandwiches, which he serves with a bowl of mixed nuts.
I help clean up the kitchen, then sit down and catalogue the few tree ring samples I took. When I finish, I take notes on my tablet for my research, then spend a few hours editing a proposal I happened to save onto the tablet as well. There’s no WiFi and my cell phone doesn’t work, so I can’t check emails or get any business correspondence done.
When I’ve exhausted all the work I can do without my laptop, I turn off the tablet.
