Free Bearilicious - Collection by Ashley Hunter Page B

talking about you turning into a bear as though I’m just a visitor here when I’m a captive.”
    He leaned on his arm, “Admittedly, this is not the most desirable situation. I would’ve hoped we’d have gotten to know each other, and you would be here on your own free will.”
    “Like a little romantic vacation,” I chuckled.
    “Yes, I suppose so. I usually come to my cabin for fun rather than imprisonment.”
    I didn’t know what to say. Mr. Mathan… Oliver struck me as a no-nonsense personality - almost to a fault. He never laughed at my jokes (but that may be the joker rather than the joke, if that made sense), and he had an uncompromising eye for detail. Though he was probably the handsomest man I’d ever seen, I hadn’t considered him as a romantic being.
    He laughed, “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost! I didn’t mean to scare you, Lorelai.”
    “I just never… um… considered….”
    “I’m sorry to make things uncomfortable for you,” he laughed again. “You’re a very intelligent, funny, and strong woman. Those traits alone make you attractive. Beyond that, you’re beautiful. Disarmingly so.”
    Those eyes of his showed the same intensity, but also a vulnerability. They mesmerized me, leaving me speechless.
    Part of me wanted to just stand up and have my way with him, but that was both too forward and a terrible decision.
    He’d kidnapped me, after all. That does not make a man an attractive partner.
    “Thank you for your compliments,” I responded, after some time. “You know that you’re incredibly handsome…”
    “I don’t know that.”
    “You own a mirror, don’t even, Mr. Mathan.”
    “Oliver.”
    “Your critical contrarian personality just… it makes you undesirable, Oliver,” I said, looking him straight in the eye.
    “You’re right. It’s a…” he paused, “defense mechanism. This curse makes me unable to pursue true relationships, so I just push people away. There’s a reason why only Vance and my personal secretary work in the same office as I do. I am difficult.”
    “Well, at least you know that, I guess.”
    He smiled, “There is that.”
    He picked up the report again and continued reading in silence. Although I felt cruel for confronting him, it cleared the air between us. Though the situation was not the best, his honesty and self awareness made the part of me that liked him grow.

 
     
    VI.
     
    Oliver often worked during the day - holding his meetings and having paperwork faxed in or emailed - since he was out of the office. He had time to make me breakfast each morning, though he didn’t have his tea.
    I felt, as the kidnap victim, that I shouldn’t have to make him his tea; furthermore, he was no longer my boss.
    Yet, as the days went on, I enjoyed his company more and more. He softened up, actually starting to laugh at my jokes and not take everything so seriously.
    For example, he had some women’s clothes in one of the rooms for me to change into. They surprisingly fit very well.
    “Do you actually just enjoy kidnapping girls my size, and then you collect their things as strange souvenirs?” I asked.
    “You caught me,” he answered. “My sister-in-law also keeps clothes here for when they visit. She appreciates the collection, anyway.”
    Not only did he play along, but he made his own off-color joke. In the few days we’d spent together, we’d become closer. He spoke of his parents’ farm in Ireland, and how he missed his mother’s “admittedly bland” cooking.
    I told him more about the deaths of my parents and brother, and how I nearly dropped out of college from the depression.
    My story was quite a bit sadder than his, but he sat and listened without even a shred of condescension in his beautiful eyes.
    On the next Friday, he asked if I wanted to go on a walk with him in the woods. My mind raced, thinking he may actually just murder me and bury me out in the wilderness, but I figured I’d give him a chance. We walked