The stubborn woman was going to get herself killed if she kept barreling through life as she did.
And when it happened, it was going to hurt him.
Maybe more than anything else ever had.
He wished he could tell her to stop looking for Alice. To accept that what was lost might never be found. But he understood why she couldn’t.
Some things, you just couldn’t let go of.
five
Son of a bitch.
Greta glared at the truck blocking her driveway. Bear stood beside the open passenger side door, two travel cups from Nessie’s Place in his massive hands. King sat in the seat, tongue lolling out, panting with that goofy smile that made him look like the world’s biggest, dumbest puppy.
No!
She checked her watch again. By her calculations, he should be waiting in the parent drop-off line at Solace High right about now.
Instead, he was standing in her driveway like he’d known exactly when she’d try to leave.
She cut the engine and climbed out of her Jeep, slamming the door harder than necessary. “You’re supposed to be at the high school.”
Bear didn’t look the least bit apologetic. “Took Logan in early to meet his teachers.”
“I thought he already did that?” She narrowed her eyes. “You took him in early because you realized I was planning to leave without you.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Coffee?” He held out one of the cups.
She should refuse. Should tell him she didn’t need his help or his coffee or his big, muscled body taking up space in her Jeep. But the smell hit her—Nessie’s special cinnamon-ginger-cardamom blend that she couldn’t get enough of—and her resolve weakened.
“Sneaky Sasquatch.” She snatched the cup from his hand. “Fine, but move your truck. I’m driving.”
“My truck is?—”
“No.”
Bear scowled. “Bigger,” he finished.
She took a drink of her coffee—Dear God, it was so good; Nessie had to be part witch to make coffee taste like this—and stared at him. Waited. tapped her foot just because she knew it would annoy him, and annoying him had become one of her favorite pastimes recently.
He growled his displeasure, but turned without a word and stalked back to his truck. He parked in his driveway across the street, then crossed back to her with long, ground-eating strides. King trotted at his heels, ears perked with interest.
“I’ll drive,” he said, reaching for her keys.
She pulled them away and held them up until she realized he could very easily still get to them.
Crap. She was practically dangling them at his eye level.
She tucked them into her pocket instead. “Not on your life, Pooh Bear. You drive like a near-sighted grandmother. Now get in or get left behind.”
He muttered something that sounded like “stubborn as hell,” but walked around to the passenger side. The Jeep listed slightly as his weight settled into the seat. He wedged his knees against the dash and ducked his head to avoid the roll bar, but his dark hair still scraped the headliner.
Atlas jumped into the back, whining with excitement at the prospect of another adventure. King leaped in after him, both dogs immediately taking up every available inch of space. King’s massive head thrust between the front seats, his chin landing heavily on Bear’s shoulder within seconds.
“Jesus,” Bear grumbled, trying to shove away the drooling mountain of dog. “Get back, you doofus, or you’ll stay home.”
King gave Bear’s face a slobbery lick before reluctantly retreating to the backseat. Greta couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. The giant man was completely at the mercy of his dog—a dog who thought he was still the size of a house cat.
