Wild Love (Rose Hill, #1)(112)

My thumb rubs soft, slow circles over the crown of her head. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re just gonna be quiet together and then everything is going to be okay.”

I whisper the words to her, but I say them for myself. She blinks in recognition, and I blink back. Then I try to distract myself by counting the swirling colors of her irises. Brown, gold, green, and a delicate gray woven between them. Minimum four colors.

And even covered in a sheen of tears, they glow.

I’m not sure I’ve ever gotten this lost in a perfect stranger’s eyes.

“Tell me it’s going to be okay again.” The words are a breath, woven into the hush of her long exhale. Even this close, I barely hear them.

The tips of our noses brush as my face slants down over hers. My lips move silently against her skin as I mouth the words, “It’s going to be okay.

I’ve done a lot of wild shit in my day. Done a few things that I’m surprised to have survived, if I’m being honest. But in those moments, I’d always been alone. And there’s something about lying this damn close to another person, knowing she could be the last thing I ever look at, that makes everything around us stand still.

Shit, maybe I’m just getting old and sentimental.

Then I feel the hot, damp breath of the grizzly as it sniffs the back of my neck. I feel an eerie sense of calm even though I shouldn’t. Truthfully, I’m calmer than I have any right to be.

Because while I may have seen my fair share of bears growing up in Rose Hill, I have yet to feel one breathing down my neck. To be quite frank, it’s an experience I could have gone without.

But there’s no time for me to wallow in my anxiety. I need to keep my cool or Skylar. So I keep my eyes locked on hers, willing her to stay still and in the moment with me even though she’s clearly so far out of her element that she’s practically on another planet.

Her lips part and her breaths come fast and frantic. She clamps her eyes shut. I can smell the bear, so I’m sure she can too.

All sweat and musk and old gym shoes. It’s overpowering. It’s a combination I’m not sure I’ll ever forget.

The sun beats down on my back and the heat of the bear’s enormous body beside me makes the moment downright stifling. I rest my forehead against hers and try to regulate her breathing with my own.

Two seconds in.

Three seconds out.

Soon, the heat feels more bearable. The heart-pounding clatter of nails not quite as loud. The stench, less overpowering. The rustling from the ditch dissipates, and I assume the cubs have followed mom away too.

She squirms a little and then peeks up at me from beneath her thick lashes. “Did you see the babies? They’re so cute.”

I roll my forehead against hers as I stifle a laugh, absently wondering how I constantly end up in the orbit of women who are this atrocious at following simple instructions—even when their life depends on it. “Let’s stay quiet,” is all I respond with.

I’m not sure how long we lie on the ground breathing in and out together. Five minutes? Ten minutes? Long enough that her knuckles must be cramping from clutching at my shirt. Her entire body is still trembling uncontrollably, so I let my hand smooth over her hair in an attempt to ease her shaking.

Logically, I know the bear has moved on, but I still feel like I could glance up and come face-to-face with it.

So I stay in place, stroking this woman’s head and trying to get my bearings before I make a move to get up. In an attempt to lighten the moment, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“I saw the results of a survey recently that said six percent of Americans think they could beat a grizzly bear in hand-to-hand combat,” I murmur as I finally open my eyes.

She still has hers squeezed shut so tightly that her entire face is crinkled up as though she’s in pain. But as my words sink in, she peeks out of one eye. “What?”

The question is breathless and hushed. But the look on her face is pure disbelief.

“I know. Can you believe that?”

With both eyes open, she stares at me like she’s wondering if I’m for real right now.

“Hand-to-hand combat?”

I nod down at her before peeking up over the top of her head.

No bear.

I push up onto my knees and twist to look back over my shoulder.

No bear.

I flop back onto my haunches and run my palms over my close-cut hair as I take in a full three-sixty view of our spot on the back road.

No bear.

Just bluebird skies and warm yellow sunshine.

It’s with a ragged sigh that I finally look back down… to see I’m straddling Skylar Stone.

My eyes catch on the graceful line of her collarbone, the swell of her breasts pressed high over the neckline of her shirt. I close my eyes and shake my head–but no. She’s still there. Under me.

With one hand she wipes at her eyes but makes no move to escape me. She lies flopped on the road looking beautiful, and stunned, and completely exhausted. Her teeth strum at her bottom lip as though she’s thinking hard. And she doesn’t let go of my shirt. Her arm is straight and her knuckles still white as she grips the cotton.

Finally, a giddy laugh shakes her shoulders. “When they say 6 percent though… it’s probably more.”

I sigh, and then I laugh too. “Yeah, you gotta rule out children and the elderly.”