Page 28 of Wild Card

“Shera,” Bear growls. “Enough!” He strides toward me as I raise a hand, rubbing at the back of my head. “Are you afraid of dogs? Why didn’t you say something last night?”

“I’m not,” I fib. “Not if they’re friendly, and I know she is.”

He towers over me as he comes to a stop. His massive hand flies to cradle the back of my skull, and I tug my hand away to check for blood.

There’s not any.

“Do you always lie to appease others?” he asks, tenderly palpating the back of my head.

Sometimes. Especially if it feels like they won’t like me if I’m truthful.

“Little one.” Bear has the deepest, growliest voice I’ve ever heard. He sounds angry, but I think that just comes from the deep timbre of his tone.

It still makes me feel bad that he yelled at Shera. It’s not her fault I’m cautious around big dogs.

“I’m not afraid of her. She was heavy breathing on my neck when I woke up. We bonded.” My knees bend a bit until I can pet her giant head.

“Yeah, she’s spoiled as hell. She likes to lie with her head on a pillow, so I often wake up with her face in mine.” He pulls his fingers free of my hair and examines them the same way I did my own. “No blood, but you might have a goose egg. It’s hard to tell with all that hair.”

“I’m fine.” I give Shera a last pat and stand up. My face heats as I realize I just embarrassed myself in front of this gorgeous hunk of alpha for a second time. “I brought your coat back, but I wasn’t able to wash the socks, so?—”

“Come on, let’s get you some ice.” He doesn’t give me the chance to object. His massive hand wraps around my wrist, and he tugs me along.

I don’t know why I find it so endearing, but my instincts are obsessed with his caregiver vibes.

Bear grabs ice from a big machine in the back before tossing it into a plastic zipper bag and wrapping it in a dishrag.

I’m sure this area is for employees only. It seems like a storeroom, of sorts, for all the alcohol necessary to run the bar.

We pass back through the kitchen and walk down the hallway.

Bear tosses open his office door and guides us inside. He nods to the couch as Shera runs in and curls up on the dog bed in the corner.

I’m sure we were in here last night. It’s strange to have vague memories but not be able to hold on to any specifics.

He takes his coat from over my arm and tosses it onto a hook by the door before coming back and taking a seat on the dark brown leather sofa.

It’s full size, with two other seats. Although, he does take up most of the middle cushion with his expansive shoulders.

His long, blondish-brown waves fall around his face as he looks up at me.

Bear isn’t classically handsome like Rush or even Thorne. His jaw is too rugged for that. He has strong features that would overpower any other face, but it all works for him in a way that makes my brain melty.

It’s not just the outside, either. He took care of me last night. The trash can by the bed, the notes laid out, even the jacket and socks. It shows so much of who he is as a human being.

He even checked my head again in the kitchen, where the lights were brighter. The brick didn’t break the skin, so the ice might be overkill, but I’m not going to fight him taking care of me.

“Do you plan to stand there all day?” he asks, stretching back against the couch cushions.

The T-shirt he’s wearing pulls tight over his muscular chest as his knees spread even farther.

He’s definitely manspreading, but I could take the free cushion on the far end…

I just really don’t want to.

My stomach flutters, and I hype myself up to climb directly into his lap.

I’m still in the process of battling with my extremities to actually move when he stretches forward, grabs my hips, and pulls me to stand between his spread thighs.

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