Page 14 of Curvy Girl and the Boss Bear
Outside, the moon is waxing, nearly full. Its pull tugs at my blood, at the beast within. I dry my hands and step onto the porch, letting the cool night air wash over me. The forest calls, dark and inviting, offering space to run, to roam, to be what I truly am.
But I can't leave her. Not tonight. Not with her questions and suspicions already aroused.
I settle for pacing the porch, keeping watch over the cabin, over her. Sentinel and prisoner both, caught between man and beast, between truth and secrecy, between longing and fear.
Ruby's typing eventually stops, and I hear her soft footsteps moving from the office to the guest room. Water running in the bathroom. The quiet sounds of her preparing for bed.
When silence finally falls, I return inside, locking the doors, checking the windows. Not that anything in these woods threatens me, but old habits die hard. Protecting territory, protecting what's mine. What could be mine, if fate were kinder.
I stretch out on the couch again, staring at the ceiling, listening to Ruby's breathing as it deepens into sleep. My bear settles slightly, comforted by her presence, by knowing she's safe under our roof.
Tomorrow will bring its own challenges. The audit looms, but more pressing is the moon's pull, the thinning of my control, the growing need to shift.
And Ruby's questions. Her perceptive eyes that see too much.
Sleep eludes me for hours, my mind churning with possibilities, with fears, with hopes I barely dare acknowledge. When I finally drift off, it's to dreams of running through moonlit forests, a smaller form keeping pace beside me, unafraid of the beast I become.
Chapter 6 - Ruby
I close the door behind me, my mind still cycling through spreadsheets and tax codes and the curious enigma that is Cole Blackwood. After hours of intensive accounting work, my eyes burn and my shoulders ache, but we've made remarkable progress.
The audit no longer looms like a death sentence, more like an unpleasant doctor's appointment we're adequately prepared for.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I pull the elastic from my hair, massaging my scalp as my brown waves fall loose around my shoulders. Through the wall, I can hear Cole moving around the living room.
I reach for my phone, scrolling through missed texts and emails. A check-in from Jim asking about our progress. A message from my mother with photos of her new rescue cat. Nothing from Marcus—not that I expected anything from my ex after six months of silence, but old habits die hard.
The truth is, I don't miss him anymore. What I miss is the certainty I once felt. The planned future, the predictable rhythm of our relationship. Even when it grew stale, it was familiar. Safe.
Nothing about being here feels safe. Not in a threatening way, but in the way that uncharted territories never are. Cole Blackwood is uncharted territory: complex, mysterious, and stirring feelings in me I don’t want to think about.
I set my phone aside and move to the window, pulling back the curtain to look at the night sky. The moon hangs heavy and bright, nearly full, casting silver light across the clearing. In the distance, the forest stands dark and dense, full of secrets.
Like the bear. Those unusual green eyes haunt me—intelligent, almost familiar. And Cole's reaction when I mentioned it... not surprise, but something closer to alarm. As if I'd stumbled upon something I wasn't supposed to see.
None of it makes sense, yet I can't shake the feeling that all these strange pieces connect somehow. The puzzle is there, if only I could see the pattern.
I change into sleep shorts and a tank top, wash my face, brush my teeth. Normal bedtime rituals that feel anything but normal in this cabin, with this man just walls away. A man who looks at me like he knows me, who cooks for me, who alternates between intense focus and careful distance.
As I slide under the covers, I try to rationalize the strange pull I feel toward him. It's natural, isn't it? He's objectively attractive. All rugged masculinity and quiet strength. He's been kind, hospitable. And there's something about being isolated together, working toward a common goal, that accelerates connection.
That's all this is. A temporary connection born of circumstance. In two days, the audit will be over, and I'll return to Atlanta, to my ordered life of emergency bookkeeping and quiet evenings alone. Cole will remain here in his beautiful cabin in the woods, and whatever this strange energy is between us will fade into a curious memory.
The thought should comfort me. Instead, it leaves a hollow feeling.
Outside, I hear the front door open and close softly. Through my window, I catch a glimpse of Cole's tall figure moving onto the porch, pacing like a caged animal. Something about his posture speaks of inner conflict, of restraint.
What demons haunt you, Cole Blackwood?
I turn away from the window, determined to get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day of finalizing documentation and preparing for Monday's audit. I need to be sharp, focused. Not distracted by enigmatic men with forest-green eyes and too many secrets.
As I drift toward sleep, my thoughts blur and tangle. The bear at the forest's edge. Cole's watchful gaze. Numbers that add up and those that don't. My dreams, when they come, are filled with running through moonlit woods, chased or chasing, I can't tell which. And always, those green eyes watching from the darkness, calling me deeper into the forest.
Next Morning
Morning light filters through the curtains when I wake, momentarily disoriented by unfamiliar surroundings. The guest room. Cole's cabin. The audit tomorrow. Reality rushes back, along with awareness of how much work still awaits us.
I check my phone—6:42 AM. A decent night's sleep, considering. No sound comes from the rest of the cabin, but I smell coffee brewing. Cole must be up already.
