I flinch but refuse to back down. “I wasn’t exactly planning on encountering a bear, Flint.”
“Yeah, well, bears don’t schedule appointments,” he bites out, his hands settling on his hips. “And this?” He gestures to the dense forest around us. “This is how people die out here. You get lost, it gets dark, and then you’re bear food. Did you even bring bear spray?”
“I wasn’t lost!” The lie slips out before I can stop it, and Flint’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Really?” He steps closer, his presence looming, but it’s not just his size that throws me. It’s the intensity in his eyes, the way he looks like he’s barely holding himself together. “So you were just... wandering around for fun?”
I fold my arms, refusing to wilt under his gaze. “I had a plan.”
His laugh is sharp and humorless. “Your plan sucks, sugar.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks, but it’s not just anger. Flint has this way of making me feel... exposed. Like he can see through every façade I throw up, right to the raw, unpolished mess beneath.
“Well, thank you for the unsolicited critique,” I huff. “Next time, I’ll be sure to consult with the wilderness expert first.”
“If you know what’s best for you, you will.” His voice drops, rough and commanding, and I swear the air between us shifts.
I hate how my body responds to him, how the intensity in his eyes ignites something low in my stomach.
“Are you done lecturing me?” I ask, my voice sharper than I intend.
His eyes narrow, and for a second, I think he’s going to snap again. But instead, he steps closer, the heat of his presence wrapping around me.
“No, Juniper,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “I’m not done.”
I swallow hard, the pulse in my throat pounding as he closes the distance between us.
“You think you can just waltz out here, waving your camera around, and everything will magically work out?” His voice is softer now, but no less intense. “This isn’t some Hollywood set. Out here, there’s no script. No second chances.”
“I know that,” I say, my voice quieter now.
“Do you?” He tilts his head, studying me like he’s trying to figure me out. “Because you don’t act like it.”
I want to argue, to throw something back at him, but the weight of his gaze stops me.
“I... I didn’t mean to get lost,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
His expression softens just a fraction, and for a moment, I think I see something other than frustration in his eyes. Concern, maybe.
“You stick with me from now on,” he says, his tone firm. “You want to document the forest? Fine. But you do it my way. No more solo scouting trips.”
I bristle at his tone, even as part of me knows he’s right. “And if I don’t?”
His lips curve into a smirk, but there’s no humor in it. “Then I guess I’ll just have to follow you around like a damn babysitter.”
The image makes me want to laugh, but I bite it back. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”
“Not particularly,” he says, his smirk fading. “But I’d rather deal with your attitude than find your body in a ditch.”
The bluntness of his words steals my breath, and for a moment, we just stand there, the forest around us eerily silent.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” I finally say, my voice quieter now.
“No,” he says, his eyes holding mine. “But you need someone watching your back.”
The words hit harder than I expect, and I look away, unable to hold his gaze any longer.
“Come on,” he says after a moment, his tone softer now. “Let’s get you back.”
