Matthew (BBW Country Music Bear Shifter Romance) (Bearly Saints Book 1) (47 page)

“That’d work, right? I mean, they’re only after me because of the charges. I don’t have to help. The DA, he can’t make me testify, right?” Linnie elaborated.

Cain blinked slowly.

“Right?” Linnie said, hoping to get an answer from Cain.

Cain sighed heavily in response, and shrugged. “I got lost on my way to law school.”

Linnie nodded. “Exactly. Right?”

“I’m gonna go chop some wood. If you need anything, I’ll be listening. Just call.” Cain’s answer was short, entirely on point, and avoided everything Linnie was desperately trying to talk about.

Linnie sighed, and slumped in the chair. If that was as talkative as Cain got, this was shaping up to be a long few weeks.

The first few hours were challenging. There were no screens, no cell reception, not even a radio. At first, Linnie passed the time by staring out the window and watching the trees. Then, she wandered around the cabin again, checking the stock of ready-to-eat meals. She grimaced at the one labeled ‘Ham Slice in Natural Juices’. 

She examined the various hunting trophies, then studied the paintings, and finally resorted to the books. Faulkner, Shakespeare, and Vonnegut; they all seemed a bit like heavy reading. The last real book she’d read was something by Chuck Palahniuk. Something her friend had pushed into her hands, gushing over how amazing it was. 

Cain walked in from outside, closing the door behind him and unbundling a big satchel full of split logs. He laid them next to the fireplace and gingerly placed a few logs into the stone enclosure. Then he took a small tin from the shelf above the fireplace and put a small fuzzy ball beneath the logs. “Lint.”

“Like pocket lint?”

“Yep. It’s great for starting fires,” he said, striking a match and reaching into the fireplace. Nothing seemed to happen, then smoke was visible. It carried up the chimney as the fire caught. Cain’s actions were patient and methodical.

Linnie watched the process, and then stared into the resulting fire.

As night drew outside, Cain returned to the circle of furniture, and set a bowl filled with a thick stew in front of Linnie. He crossed the circle to sit on the couch opposite, eating his own stew slowly.

With the gathering night, and her stew half-gone, Linnie sighed deeply, causing Cain to glance up at her. “It’s scary out here,” she said.

Cain’s brow furrowed, and he glanced at his stew. 

Linnie continued, “I went to school for early childhood education. I’m not a cop. I never wanted this. I never signed up for this. I’m scared, now. Every day, I’m scared, and I’m so tired
.
Of running like this. I just want to get back to my life.”

Cain stared at Linnie with his glittering golden eyes. She felt almost trapped by his gaze, transfixed. She continued to talk; Cain’s stoic demeanor presented her with the chance to open up, and she meant to take it.

“Like, what happens to me after the trial, if I testify? A life looking over my shoulder, always worrying? I deserve to have a life!”

Cain looked back to his stew, and took another spoonful. Before putting it in his mouth, he muttered, “So does Brandon.”

Linnie’s breath caught in her throat. A silence hung for a moment between she and Cain. He was right; Brandon had every right to his life, just like she did. Just like her, Brandon hadn’t asked for any of this; he was the prisoner of circumstance, just like her. He was just a little boy.

“...so does Brandon.” Linnie murmured. After another pause, she asked, “Do you
think I should testify?”

Cain looked up from his soup, and met Linnie’s gaze again, and then blinked slowly. 

Linnie raised her eyebrows, trying to make it clear she expected an answer this time. “Well? Do you?” Linnie asked.

Cain cleared this throat and wiped his mouth with his napkin before setting it in his empty bowl. “I think…” He paused, inhaled, exhaled, and began again. “I think you’re right. I don’t think it’s fair. I think it’s terrible. I don’t think you did anything to deserve it. I think you spoke up because you were worried about one little boy, and I think you accidentally caught the tiger by the tail. I think you need to make the choice that you’re going to be able to live with five years from now. Ten years from now.” He set his plastic spoon in his bowl. “I don’t know what that decision will be. How could I? It’s your decision.”

Linnie sighed. 

Cain’s eyes stayed on her face, and he blinked slowly. He collected Linnie’s empty bowl, and headed to the kitchen. Linnie called after him, “So how did you end up stuck with me?”

For a long moment, Cain was silent as he pouring water from their potable water jug into a kettle. “Lost the draw,” he said with a chuckle. 

Linnie snorted and covered her face. 

Cain continued. “We go with what feels right.” He nodded, apparently agreeing with the kettle. “You felt right.”

“We hadn’t even met, though.” Linnie said, feeling herself smile a little. “You decided to take the job with nothing to go on.”

Cain shook his head. “I didn’t take the assignment until I was in the hotel room.” he murmured, walking back over to the sofa to sit back down opposite Linnie again.

She let the comfortable silence wrap around them again for a few minutes, pretending to read her book. After a moment, she set the book down again, and asked Cain, “How did you become a bodyguard?”

“Who we are affects what we are.” Cain said. “Bears are protectors. Defenders. My family has found a way to leverage that. Wolves are hunters, predators; they travel unseen among humans, preying on them.”

 Linnie nodded. “And…uhh, pigs?” she asked, tentatively.

“Boars,” Cain set his jaw. He obviously found the boars almost as unpleasant as Linnie did.  “They dig in the dirt, gnaw at roots. Live among the filth. I’m sure their lives make as much sense to them as mine does to me,” he said.

Linnie nodded again. “Could they not, though? Could a bear be, I dunno, a ballerina?”

Cain harrumphed. “Probably not. Husky, solid. Robust. Doesn’t exactly suit a ballerina, does it? If you mean, could I have chosen not to be a protector?” he shrugged. “I don’t know. I was born wanting to help people. To protect them. I didn’t have to become a bodyguard, but I probably wouldn’t have ever been a thief, or a hockey player.” He paused, and shrugged. “Maybe a hockey player. I don’t know.”

“So, it’s like a calling, almost. It’s not awkward because it’s something you enjoy. Something you wanted.” Linnie said, and it was Cain’s turn to nod.

A moment of silence fell between the two of them, and Linnie turned back to her book. 

After a moment, Cain asked, “What about you?”

“What about me?” Linnie replied. She felt her stomach do a little flip as this man’s attention was cast on her.

“Could you have been anything else?” he asked, sipping his tea.

“Oh yeah.” Linnie said, with a snort. “A princess, a ballerina. In my teens, I went through this terrible phase where I wanted to be a gothic poet; my sink was stained black, oh lord it was terrible.” She laughed. 

Cain joined in with a chuckle. 

“But you know, not really? Since I was old enough for my choice to matter, it’s always been something to do with kids. I was going to be the only goth poet who ran a daycare. Two year olds in mascara and black lipstick.”

Cain’s chuckle filled the room with a dull rumble, and Linnie laughed along with him. “I guess I know what you mean. You know which direction you’re heading, and you just sort of  slip in, where you fit.”

Cain nodded. 

Linnie smiled at him, and let the silence stand between them. Usually in a conversation she found those pauses uncomfortable and awkward; she broke them by checking her phone, discussing a television show, complaining about the parking. But here, in the cabin, and between she and Cain, the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, or the result of their being a lack of things to be said. The quiet was a communication of its own.

The few moments of silence stretched on for slightly over an hour. Linnie adjusted her position twice to chase the sunbeam she was using to read, but the third time her book fell into shadow, she turned to look out the window. To the east, the sky was black as pitch; roiling thunderclouds were making their way across the darkening sky towards the cottage.

“I know.” Cain said, keeping his voice calm and steady. “It’s just a storm. This cottage has seen a lot of them. A lot worse than this one’ll be.”

“Is there anything we can do to prepare?” Linnie asked. 

Cain shrugged. “Keep a flashlight next to you. Bring in some extra firewood.” He chuckled. “You can bring your blankets out here. If you sleep on the couch, there’ll be some light. Plus some company.”

Linnie continued to look out the window for a moment, and then sighed, heading into her room. She grabbed her pillow, blanket and sheet, and headed over to the couch, just in time to see Cain making his way out the door. While Cain chopped some extra wood to help make it through the cold night, Linnie made up both couches, and then boiled water to prepare dinner.

When Cain returned, he was bare-chested, his thick body hair glistening lightly from perspiration. Linnie noted that there was no longer a trace of a scar on his side. She caught herself letting her eyes linger on his powerful build and firm biceps for an extra moment, before she turned back to stirring the meal she was preparing.

“It’s something they claim is steak for dinner.” she said over her shoulder, as Cain set the extra wood beside the fireplace. “I’m supposed to boil the bag, apparently?”

Cain let out a grunting noise as he set up the fireplace. “The steak’s not bad.”

Linnie laughed. “I trust you, Cain, but I don’t think I believe you.” She removed the steak from the boiling water, and sliced both bags open, emptying their contents onto two separate plates. As she carried them over to the coffee table, Cain sat back from the blaze, staring into the glowing embers of the fire. He glanced up as the plates were set on the table, and nodded his appreciation.

“That’ll be nice tonight. Warm.” Linnie said with a smile, sitting down on the sofa. “I notice you’ve already healed up.” she said, harpooning one of the narrow bands of meat on her plate with her fork. 

Cain stretched his left arm. “Yeah. Healed up nicely. Thanks for the cleaning. It helped.” Cain gathered up a forkful of meat for himself, raising them to his mouth.

“Hm. You’re right, it’s not bad,” murmured Linnie, pointing at her plate with her fork. The warm silence settled in again around the pair of them.

The crash of thunder caused the cottage to shake again, but it was more distant now. Linnie had never been outside the city during a storm like this before, and wasn’t used to having a front-row seat to the full fury of nature. It had been unsettling, to see the trees bending over, and to hear the raindrops pound against the windows and the walls of the cottage. She’d never take concrete and steel girders for granted again.

The rage of the storm had kept her from sleeping, although she was exhausted. About an hour ago, she had moved to Cain’s side of the room, joining him on his couch, enjoying the sensation of warm leather through her tights, trying not to make it obvious that she was clinging to Cain to feel safe and protected.

Cain sat back from playing with the fire, and set his arm along the back of the couch. 

Linnie shifted a little closer, such that their shoulders rubbed against each other.

“Cold?” Cain asked, and Linnie shook her head to answer in the negative; the firelight had kept the cottage warm, despite the chill of the night.

After a pause, Linnie spoke. “Thanks. For the fire, I mean.” After a pause, she added, “And  everything. Like saving my life.”

Cain simply shrugged in response. 

Linnie sighed. “I wish I had your calm. Your confidence.” 

He shrugged again. “What does worrying get you? Does it help? Nah, I’d rather be focused.”

Cain brought his hand down from the back of the couch, onto Linnie’s shoulder. She felt her heart skip a beat, as his thumb rubbed at her upper arm. 

Cain stared into the firelight. “But it can make it more difficult, at times. You need to be this unmoving rock,” he said. “It’s tough to keep that up all the time.”

Linnie watched Cain’s face, and she gently raised her hand, setting it on his chest. She didn’t know what she was doing, but it felt right. It just felt right.

Linnie felt her eyes and her heart flutter as he leaned in. Linnie couldn’t help but pucker her lips as Cain paused, just a half-inch from her face. Linnie parted her mouth and Cain’s face surged forward. His kiss crushed her lips, seizing on her half-opened mouth. Cain’s kiss was hungry, and his tongue pressed insistently into Linnie’s mouth. 

She murmured, and let Cain push her back into the couch; he shifted his weight, and Linnie felt his body weigh hers down. Linnie’s tongue ran along Cain’s, curling and teasing to tempt Cain’s tongue into her mouth, nodding just a little to spur him on. She felt his hand slide down along her thigh. Her right hand rested on Cain’s left shoulder, as she traced her fingernails along his shoulder blade. Linnie felt wonderfully warm, between the heat from the fireplace and Cain’s hot lips. 

He pressed her back against the couch, bringing some of his weight onto her, and she was more than happy to obliged. His right hand travelled from her left shoulder to pull her hair out from under her, and then to stroke down; through her top, she felt Cain’s fingertips tracing along her skin. His left hand, towards the outside of the couch, squeezed at her right thigh.