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A lot.
“Oh no…” she whispered, eyes squeezing shut as a fresh wave of heat flooded her face. His strong arms stayed wrapped around her, protective and gentle, like he had no intention of letting the world intrude just yet.
“Good dream, huh?” he asked, sounding far too amused for a man who’d spent the whole night freezing on a porch.
“Shut up,” she muttered, trying – and failing – to bite back a smile. She kept her eyes closed another heartbeat, savoring the impossible contrast: the crisp bite of mountain air sharp with pine and fresh snow, the clean metallic tang of frost, and underneath it all Cal’s warm, masculine scent — woodsmoke, leather, and something darker that made her stomach do a slow, traitorous flip.
Now, heading back inside, Cal had casually dropped another comment about her drooling. Sage was having way too much fun arguing with him to stop.
“Drooling isn’t bad,” he said innocently. “Brutus drools too.”
She stopped abruptly on the threshold of her room, Cal nearly walking into her.
Sage, planting her hands on her hips, looked behind her.
“Did you just compare my drooling to a fuzzy-ass grizzly bear?”
Cal didn’t answer. His storm-gray eyes had gone slightly unfocused, locked somewhere south of her face. The big man looked almost… pained.
“Cal?” She tilted her head. “Ummm… you okay?”
His gaze didn’t move. Sage followed it downward.
Oh.
Oh my God. He’s staring at my ass.
A ridiculous spike of pure joy shot through her — the same bright, fizzy feeling she’d had weeks ago in the kitchen when he’d been caught staring at her soaked t-shirt. She couldn’t help herself. She arched her back just a little, letting her tight boy shorts hug the thick curves of her hips and backside even more deliciously.
“Cal?” she prompted again, voice sweet and teasing.
“Hmm… yeah?” he managed, still not blinking.
Sage’s heart did a ridiculous little cartwheel. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning like an idiot and finally turned toward her room, forcing her legs to move.
They both stepped into the doorway and stopped.
The wreckage was… impressive.
Her bedroom door lay in several jagged pieces across the floor like broken kindling. The solid oak frame had splintered clean at the latch, and there were fresh cracks spidering through the plaster where the whole thing had been wrenched away from the wall. Sunlight poured across the mess, catching on wood chips and glinting off the heavy industrial deadbolt that had — until last night — been a guarantee of locking.
Ha! Not for Cal…
Sage stared at the destruction, the playful smile on her face softening into something quieter.
He’d gone through it like it was tissue paper.
For her.
She looked over at him, this gentle giant who kept saving her and making her believe in things she thought she never would. Things she thought she would never have. So she had built walls around it. Walls that cracked and tumbled as his words whispered to her last night.
"...Don't leave me either," he had said.
Sage shook her head trying to keep her voice light as she surveyed the wreckage.
“Wow,” she said, the word slipping out playfully.
Cal said nothing, just stood there like a mountain beside her, arms crossed over that ridiculous bare chest. The morning light carved every hard line of him in gold and shadow. “You know—” she started, tilting her head.
