Bear Naked For Christmas (Bear Oak Novella) by Edith Hawkes Page A

attacking my vision.
    The huge man—he must have been over six feet tall—turned to me as I stomped through the snow towards him. I must’ve been out of my mind, thinking I could just walk up to this hulk of a man without any repercussions; he could have been anyone, for all I knew. But I was more concerned for the man who was supposed to be in that cabin—Mr. Jenkins, whom I’d known practically all my life.
    The man stayed silent; his eyes flashed a warning glare at me. I stopped in my tracks. This was a bad idea, I thought. I should just go back to my car and carry on driving towards our cabin, tell my dad, and let him deal with the stranger. Forget this ever happened.
    But something in me made me stay. I gritted my teeth and swallowed the lump in my throat. “Yes, you. I’m talking to you! What do you think you’re doing? Where’s Mr. Jenkins?”
    “Leave. Get back into your car. It’s none of your business,” he replied with a growl. His voice was sending shivers down my spine, or was that the cold? I couldn’t tell.
    The man remained on the porch, and though he indicated that he wouldn’t make a move towards me, his size and overall tone demanded that I take a step back.
    I blinked away the snowflakes that had found a home on my eyelids and took a breath.
    “Look, I don’t know what you think you are doing, but if you don’t go away I’m going to call the police.” I dug my hand into my jeans pocket searching for my phone but then realized at the last second it was still in the car, hooked up to the sound system.
    The man didn’t seem to register anything I’d said. “Are you listening to me?” I said, controlling my impatience. There was no way I was going to stand there and be ignored. I needed to make sure Mr. Jenkins was OK. I crunched through the snow ready to step onto the porch, getting ever closer to this man, who could no doubt snap me in two if he ever got his large hands on me, and yet I kept walking. The man turned his back to me and fiddled with the front door as if he were trying to get it open.
    He snarled, obviously frustrated that his attempts to open the door were thwarted.
    “Hey! I’m talking to you!”
    “Yes, I heard you. But you’re not going to call the police.” He spun around to face me. His penetrating eyes were full of fury and… sadness. The struggling light from the moon above bounced upon his face, and I could’ve sworn I saw a tear glinting on his cheek. That, combined with his profound beauty, made my heart ache.
    “I live here; this is my home now. Please leave me alone.” He sighed.
    I got closer, and my hands trembled. Knowing I should pay heed to my instincts, I should’ve ignored him and got back into the car, but something made me stay.
    “Are you okay?” I asked cautiously. He was obviously upset, and when he turned to look at me a softness overcame those green eyes of his. It felt like he was staring into my soul, that we were the only two people alive in the world. My knees shook with weakness, and my mouth dried into sandpaper.
    All of a sudden, as quick as the heat in his glare had gone out, it was back again and in full force. He turned his body sideways, braced himself against the door, then slammed his shoulder into the solid wood barrier. The door creaked, but the lock didn’t spring open. He growled, and my eyes widened as he tried again, and this time, when his body made contact with the thick wooden door, it splintered open.
    He stepped through, over the threshold, the door now in his hands, and gave me a mean glare. I almost got lost in those deep, brooding eyes again, unable to move after seeing the demonstration of his strength he’d just given me. But then the moment was lost when he propped the remnants of the door against the empty frame and yelled, “Get off my porch!”

Two
    I did what he’d asked and left him in peace. I wondered where Mr. Jenkins had gone. Who was this mystery man, who’d replaced the sweet old person