“Earl doesn’t run.”
“Do you call all of the bears around here Earl, or is there something about him that you recognize? Does he have some special marking that I should pay attention to?”
“Only bear around here. What happened?”
“But how do youknowhe’s the only bear around here?”
“Because I do. And so does the local wildlife expert. Earl’s a fluke. Runt as a baby. Shouldn’t have made it. Did, and wandered over our way. Don’t usually have many bears around here. Better habitats for them a little west.What. Happened?”
“Are you going to spray me again if I don’t answer?”
He growls.
And then, yes, he turns the hose back on me. But this time, he grabs me by the shoulder, aims down my back, and crimps the hose enough to minimize the blast of pressure.
I stifle a squeal.
It’s cold, but it’s honestly not the coldest I’ve faced today.
“The bear, Maisey. What happened to him, and is he hurt?”
I pretend the water coming out of the hose and getting swished down my back is a warm natural spring, ignore the heat coming off Flint’s hand as he brushes mud clumps off my arm, and concentrate on Earl. “We were having a showdown. I was being big, you know, like this—”
I lift my arms wide and go up on my tiptoes, and I get a shot of water in the armpit.“Hey!”
“If you’dquit moving—”
I spin to glare at him. Yes, he’s helping me. Yes, my mother would tell me I should be nice to the handsome man who brought my daughter home.
But he’s pushing my buttons. And then every time I look at him, a primal part of me swoons like I don’t freaking know better, and then I get cranky all over again.
But Flint Jackson is all wet.
His Hell’s Bells Soccer Demons jersey is plastered to his broad chest and puckered nipples, highlighting his wide collarbone and the muscles straining his arms too.
Those tattoos on each of his biceps are peeking out from beneath his sleeves, and I’m positive one’s a wolf and the other’s some kind of geometric design.
And his jeans?
Also soaking wet.
Plastered to his trim hips.
His solid thighs.
The bulge behind his fly.
No.
Nope nope nope.
I didn’t see that. It doesn’t mean he’s hard or semihard or just packed under there. He’s probably wearing a cup.
Yep.
A cup.
To protect himself from errant soccer balls to the groin while he’s standing there on the sidelines doing his coaching thing.
