Page 13 of The Thief

“Of course not.” Joy giggled, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “My weight is always fluctuating, so I have clothes that will fit your darling frame. Especially the leggings and cropped pants. I left a pile outside your bedroom door in case you want to try them on. Give away anything you don’t want.”

“That’s real sweet.”

“Absolutely. Honey, I’m so excited for you. I just wanted you to know how proud I am to be around such amazing women.”

“Well, you’re amazing too. What would I do without you looking out for me?”

She squeezed my hand before joining the group outside.

Poor Joy. She must feel like a fish out of water after all her adventures around the globe. From the sound of it, her professional career as an impersonator was her only job experience. Tak said it wasn’t necessary for everyone to work, but a job had always given me purpose. Maybe she was feeling a little lost, especially with such a talented mate.

I entered the mammoth living room and sat on Melody’s pink couch. The house was so bereft of furniture that I heard my thoughts reverberating off the walls. Whenever something triggered me, like that song Virgil was singing, I felt like a boat drifting in the ocean. The longer I sat there, the more obvious it became that I needed to quit sulking and bond with my pack. I wasn’t a rogue wolf anymore, and that meant acclimating to pack life.

Putting away my thoughts, I headed down the hall and spotted Bear in the kitchen. He looked so dang cute in that white apron. Why in the world does he cook around a hot stove in a long-sleeved shirt? On top of that, he often wore a hair and beard net, which seemed excessive for home cooking.

“Are you coming outside?” I asked, watching the expert way he chopped vegetables.

Bear slid the veggies into a bowl. “Not tonight. Is Lucian out there? He offered to help me earlier.”

“I didn’t see him. He might be checking the cameras again after that raccoon messed with one of them.”

Bear grunted. “If you see him, tell him I’ve got onions that need chopping.”

A lone butterfly flitted around in my stomach at the idea of cooking alongside him and watching him work his magic. “Do you want me to help?”

He adamantly shook his head. “You worked enough today. This is a promise I’m holding him to.”

I watched Bear for another second and worried my lip. He was so adept in the kitchen. Would he consider working at the Rabbit Lounge? Would Tak permit it? Now was too soon to ask. I needed to find the best approach and butter him up.

He met my eyes. “Was there something else?”

My face flushed from staring so intently at his broad chest and thick arms. “What’s for dessert?”

Bear gave a warm smile that made me smile back. “That’s a surprise.”

“I just love a surprise,” I said before heading down the hall.

* * *

The second Bear heard the back door shut, he quit chopping the carrots. The last thing he wanted to do was cut off his finger. Sometimes he couldn’t think straight in Mercy’s presence. When he took a deep breath, all he smelled was his chicken soup. Not what he’d hoped for. Usually when she walked by, he caught the sweet fragrance of cotton candy. The scent made him find excuses to get closer to her each time she was near.

The first time they met was at the campfire, and he’d blushed at a remark she’d made about him being a big ol’ scoop of ice cream. That night, he obsessed over her words, wondering if she was being sweet or poking fun at his size. Years as a bodyguard had taught Bear how to read people’s intentions, but not so much with women. Once he got to know Mercy Breedlove, he discovered she didn’t have a mean bone in her body, and that meant something. Bear was stout with a broad chest, wide shoulders, and thick arms. He’d been that way since puberty.

As he scrubbed the potatoes, he tried to focus on dinner but couldn’t stop thinking about Mercy’s eyes. They were the most beautiful color he’d ever seen—like grey skies over Antarctica. And whenever she fanned those pretty lashes at him, it sent a shiver down his spine.

He ran his fingers beneath his shirt collar, heat burning him from the inside out. Her fiery gaze made his wolf stir. None of the other men reacted the same that he’d noticed. They treated her like a sister, as he should.

But those lips…

Mercy was everything his body craved. The occasional jokes she received about her short stature didn’t seem to bother her, but they bothered him. She was exquisitely feminine, like a fairy—something more precious than what a man like him deserved. Her spirit and personality were as vivacious as they came, and he loved listening to her talk. Not because of her accent, which he was also attracted to, but because of her storytelling. She held her audience captive and made them laugh. Mercy connected with people—a quality he envied since it was one he struggled with. Bear forged relationships through food.

Since first meeting Mercy a couple of months ago, he had tried to smother his feelings, chalking it up as a temporary infatuation. But whenever their eyes met, electricity threaded through his entire body and settled in the pit of his stomach.

Occasionally in bed, Bear lay awake with fantasies of Mercy entering his room in the dark of night. Her slender fingers would pet his chest and arms, and she would find nothing about him beastly or oafish. The fantasy never turned sexual. It was about acceptance.

But why he felt like he needed that acceptance from her plagued his thoughts.

When he was thirteen years old, Bear matured much faster than his peers. He had always been a big boy, but as soon as he hit puberty, everything changed. The boys ridiculed him for his size and excessive chest hair. Years later, when he experienced his first change, his packmates met his massive wolf, and the jokes and taunting ceased. But by then he had developed a complex about his appearance that not even his fierce wolf could undo. He would cover up with long-sleeved shirts and never shifted in front of anyone. Bear’s body hair wasn’t black or curly—the soft brown hair circled his chest, ran down his abs, and brushed over his arms.

---