Boarlander Bash Bear 2(32)

“I’ll meet you out there,” Mason said as he strode for the middle trailer across the road. “I’m gonna clean up first.”

“I’ll get you a vat of beer,” Bash called darkly.

He strode for his trailer, but Emerson jogged and caught his hand. “Bash, Clinton is wrong. You’ll be plenty gentle with a baby.”

When he turned around, Bash’s eyes were the dark color of pine needles, and he looked sick, as though he’d been socked in the stomach. “How do you know?”

“Because of how gentle you are with me.” She shook her head and searched his sad eyes, then whispered, “He’s wrong about everything, Bash. I’m not going anywhere.”





Chapter Twelve




Bash blocked out the entire sun with his wide back as he carried a giant blue cooler over one shoulder like it weighed nothing at all. Moments like these shocked Emerson. Bash was sweet and gentle with her, but she couldn’t deny the raw power he wielded.

He hid his strength well in Saratoga, but up here in the wilderness, he let his animal side slip out more and more. She loved it.

He pushed a giant limb out of the way and waited for her to pass through before he let it go behind him. “I like this view better,” he rumbled, and just for him, Emerson wiggled her butt.

When she turned to give him a cheeky grin, Bash was adjusting an obvious erection. “Boner,” he said, completely unabashed.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to carry any of those,” she asked Audrey, who was walking along the thin trail in front of her now. Her back was packed down with bag chairs, and she held her heavy tote as well.

“Nah, I’m good. Shifter muscles,” she said over her shoulder with a wink.

Right. Emerson kept forgetting Audrey was probably one-hundred-forty-seven times stronger than her because of the freaking white tiger that dwelled in her middle.

Emerson could hear Bear Trap Falls long before she first laid eyes on it. The rush rush of the waterfall hitting the river below got louder with every minute of hiking, and eventually, she could smell the mist, too. Evening sunlight sprinkled the forest floor with gold, and branch shadows stretched across the trail, creating beautiful webs everywhere she stepped. The air was crisper up in these mountains, cleaner smelling than down in Saratoga, with a hint of pine sap and rich earth. But it was her first glimpse of Bear Trap Falls that had her slowing to a stop in awe. The banks on both sides of the river were sandy, like beaches, and beyond each were moss-covered rocks and giant fern-like plants that painted the landscape a jungle green. The waterfall itself wasn’t too tall, and there was a trail up the rocky cliff that said someone didn’t mind jumping from midway.

Bash’s hand slid around her from behind, cupping her stomach. He leaned down and murmured against her ear, “This side is Boarlander territory, and across the river, that’s Gray Back land.”

“Bash, this place is beautiful.”

“You like it?”

“Very much.”

“Okay, turn around and look up.”

She did as he said and looked up into the creaking evergreen branches of the trees that lined the bank. Across several large trees was tied a hand-painted sign that read Happy Baby Making Day. The grin that stretched her face felt good. “It’s perfect.”

Bash hooked a finger under her chin and lifted her lips to meet his. His mouth went soft against hers, and he sucked her bottom lip gently, dumping desire between her legs. With a little moan, she ended the kiss and closed her eyes in an attempt to slow her pulse. In a barely audible whisper, she asked, “Maybe tonight, can you stay in ten-ten with me?”

Bash’s smile dipped from his face, then came back slow as he stared at her like he’d never seen anything more beautiful. “I want that.” He clapped a hand on his leg and pointed his index finger at her. “First I need to feed you and give you the best night. I brought wine for you. Three boxes. Red, white, and pink. But then I remembered”—his eyes darted to the other Boarlanders who were firing up the grill and setting up the bag chairs on the beach—“we’re trying for a cub so I brought you some fruity strawberry-mango juice Audrey likes. It don’t have a single drop of alcohol.” He shot the others a look again and pressed his hand lightly to her stomach. “Even if it takes us a hundred years to get pregnant, I’ll take care of you.” He lifted her hand to his lips and smiled through the kiss he laid on her knuckles. Then he made his way toward the grill and settled the giant cooler in the sand.

And her heartbeat raced on.

Five minutes later, Emerson was sitting in a chair, red plastic cup of juice in her hand and tank top stripped off. The sun was hitting her skin just right to get a little tan before it set. Audrey sat beside her and admitted, “I may or may not have cut up cucumbers for us to put on our eyes. I have no idea what that’s supposed to do, but I saw it in a magazine, and the boys just laughed at me when I tried it with them. Well, all but Bash, but he ate all the cucumbers.”