Page 11 of Bearing North
He really was, too.
Alex hadn’t gotten to where she was by picking battles she couldn’t—or shouldn’t—win. He was going to play the chivalrous gender card and stick to his guns. They could argue about it, and she might even win because she was stubborn and terrifying, but it would be the opposite of what she was trying to do. She wastryingto be accommodating and non-threatening.
“Tee hee,” Alex said. “I guess I’ll let you. But if Sandra screwed up our next reservation, maybe we can take turns sleeping in the truck! Tee hee!”
Orson frowned harder and didn’t agree to her proposal. “Alexandra…”
Alex held her breath. Was he going to suggest they share the bed? She was kind of dying for him to do so and dreading that he might.
Was she strong enough to turn him down?
This wasn’t the same kind of silence where she saw him tamping down impulsive responses and smothering laughs. He looked like he wanted to say something and wasn’t sure how to. It was a dangerous silence, both of them feeling each other out.
Alex spoke first. “This is like a silly cliche, isn’t it?” If there was no getting around the elephant-sized bed in the room, they might as well acknowledge it. “I’m going to murder Sandra.” She couldn’t make herself giggle at the end and licked her lips because her mouth was completely dry, thirsty for Orson’s kiss.
She was not supposed to be thinking about kissing him.
Orson cleared his throat. Was his suitcase in front of his crotch on purpose? “Good night,” he said gruffly.
“Good night!” Alex said as brightly as she could manage.Sparkle.
Then, before she could beg him to stay, she shut the door and locked it.
9
ORSON
Orson was an idiot.
That’s all there was to it.
Here was an opportunity on a platter to claim Alexandra for his own, and for some dumb reason, he wanted to be agentleman.
His bear was puzzled, and Orson was wracked with regrets.
If he’d stepped forward and kissed her in the doorway of the cabin, would they be in there right now, discovering exactly how deep their defenses went? He’d caught her gaze lingering over him a few times, and knew that she was attracted to him by her intoxicating smell and the way her breath sometimes caught.
But Orson was afraid she would regret an affair. She clearly had a problem with him as her boss, however she tried to smother it in cute little attempts to giggle and gaslight him. He didn’t want her surrender to be a matter of power or convenience.
And Orsonlongedfor that surrender. His hard-on was physical proof of how desperate he was to claim her. But what if she was responding to the person he was pretending to be…and what would she do with the goofy screw-up he really was?
If she likedNew Orson, the way he was starting to think she might, maybe she wouldn’t likeReal Orson.
Orson wasn’t convinced he was doing a great job beingNew Orson, but he hadn’t been himself, either, and he was conflicted about continuing to pretend to be anything he wasn’t with his mate. He didn’t want secrets from her, but he definitely wantedher.
Alexandra’s warning about the light outside was well-founded.
Orson didn’t quite fit lengthwise in the back seat of the truck, but even when he found a decently comfortable position, sleep was completely impossible with full daylight streaming in. Maybe he should get one of those sleep masks that women wore to avoid getting bags under their eyes. Did they come without lace and lavender scent?
Old Orsonwould have worn the girliest one he could find, just for the laughs.
But would Alexandra laugh, or would she give that awful false giggle that was clearly for his benefit?
After a few hours of trying to sleep in the truck, attempting to cover his face without suffocating or sweating to death, Orson gave up. His phone said it was one in the morning, and it was utterly quiet. The little cluster of cabins was right up against the boreal forest, and this was an opportunity Orson almost never got. No one was around, and he had looked around earlier for cameras because he was trying to wrap his head around the security business and had seen nothing obvious.
It was hot in the truck, and Orson had taken his shirt off to try to find a comfortable temperature for sleeping, so he was shirtless as he finally gave up and got out. His skin was bared to the outdoors for only a moment, and in those few seconds, an entire swarm of mosquitoes found his uncovered flesh. Orson was happy to surprise them with a thick coat of fur as he dropped to all fours and shook his shoulders in delicious freedom.
They still hummed in his ears, trying to find access to his sweet blood, but he didn’t give them a second thought as he rambled for the shelter of the trees.
