Page 10 of Grin and Bear It

After ending the call, Artair stood at the window, his reflection superimposed over the town below. The perfect posture, the tailored suit, the carefully neutral expression—all elements of the facade Rust had so accurately called out. Beneath it all, his bear paced restlessly, craving something beyond corporate success and clan approval.

Freedom, perhaps. Or connection. Or both.

His phone chirped with a calendar reminder for the afternoon session. With practiced efficiency, Artair tucked away these introspective thoughts, straightened his tie, and prepared to rejoin the board meeting. Personal revelations could wait. Business could not.

The remainder of the afternoon passed in a blur of presentations, negotiations, and strategic discussions. By the time he signed the final approvals and dictated the last round of emails, the sun had begun its descent toward the distant mountains.

As he prepared to leave for his grandmother’s dinner, a fresh text from Bryn arrived:

Emergency strategy meeting required! Meet me at Honeycrisp Bakery in 15 min before heading to Grandma’s. Bringing reinforcements!

Curious despite his exhaustion, Artair diverted his course toward the town center. Honeycrisp Bakery, owned by the half-fae Matilda Honeysage, served as a popular gathering spot for Enchanted Falls residents. Its honey-infused pastries particularly appealed to bear shifters, making it a frequent haunt for members of his clan.

The bakery’s warm lights glowed invitingly as he parked his Aston Martin along the curb. Through the window, he spotted Bryn’s honey-blonde hair amid a group huddled around a corner table. As he approached, he recognized her “reinforcements”—Jash and, surprisingly, Kalyna Foxworthy, Rust’s mate.

“Finally!” Bryn exclaimed as he entered, waving him over with characteristic enthusiasm. Unlike Artair, who had inherited their father’s dark coloring and imposing build, Bryn took after their mother—petite, fair, with a sunny disposition that belied her bear shifter nature. “We’ve been strategizing.”

“I can see that,” Artair noted dryly, nodding to Jash and Kalyna as he took the empty seat. “Though I’m not sure what strategy requires pastry crumbs and—” he sniffed delicately, “—is that mead in your coffee?”

“Liquid courage,” Bryn confirmed without a hint of shame. “Grandma’s in rare form today. She’s converted the entire sunroom into a ‘Future Den Planning Space’ complete with fabric swatches and nursery design boards.”

Jash snickered into his own coffee while Kalyna offered a sympathetic smile. The fox shifter’s elegant posture and timeless grace contrasted with the casual setting, though her eyes held a mischievous gleam that explained her successful mating to someone as formidable as Rust.

“I’ve been through this myself,” Kalyna said, her voice carrying the subtle refinement of her one hundred fifty years. “Though in my case, it was my father trying to pair me with an eligible fox shifter from an ancient bloodline. He filled our home with historical texts we were meant to discuss, testing our ‘intellectual compatibility.’“

“How did you escape?” Artair asked, genuinely curious.

“I didn’t, initially. I sat through seven excruciating dinners with seven different suitors, each more pompous than the last.” Her lips curved into a reminiscent smile. “Then I met Rust and life transformed into something else entirely.”

“That’s not helping my current situation,” Artair pointed out.

“Actually, it is,” Bryn interjected, leaning forward with the intense focus she typically reserved for her community project planning. “The point is Grandma’s setting you up with exactly the wrong type of mate. You need someone who challenges you, not another perfectly agreeable bear shifter who’ll defer to your every opinion.”

Jash nodded emphatically. “Remember Elise? You ended that relationship because—and I quote—’She agrees with everything I say without ever considering alternatives.’“

“And Victoria,” Bryn added. “Who basically transformed herself into whatever you seemed to want that day.”

“I appreciate the psychological analysis,” Artair said, his tone cooling. “But I still have to survive tonight’s dinner.”

“That’s where our plan comes in,” Bryn declared, sliding a napkin covered in her looping handwriting toward him. “Operation Bear Escape.”

Artair scanned the improvised document, his eyebrows rising incrementally. “This is your plan? Food poisoning? A fake security breach? Something called ‘The Honey Catastrophe’?”

“I’m partial to that last one,” Jash admitted. “It involves strategic placement of honey pots throughout the dining room, positioned to create a chain reaction when?—”

“No,” Artair cut him off firmly. “I’m not sabotaging Grandma’s dinner with elaborate pranks like we’re still teenagers.”

“Fine,” Bryn huffed. “But at least let me run interference. Emily’s not right for you—she collects porcelain dolls and thinks hiking is ‘unnecessarily sweaty.’ How would she ever handle your bear side?”

TWELVE

Areluctant smile tugged at Artair’s mouth. His sister’s protective instincts, while occasionally overwhelming, came from a place of genuine care. “What did you have in mind? Something less destructive than ‘The Honey Catastrophe,’ I hope.”

“Much less destructive,” Bryn assured him. “I’ve prepared a set of talking points guaranteed to highlight your incompatibility. Did you know Emily is deathly afraid of thunderstorms? And believes bears should only shift during designated nature retreats, never spontaneously?”

“You’ve been researching her weaknesses?”

“I prefer to think of it as compatibility assessment,” Bryn replied primly. “Someone has to save you from yourself.”

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