Page 1 of A Beary Merry Christmas

Chapter One

December 18th

Lora

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. It was a far cry from my standard uniform of scrubs. Not that they weren’t comfortable, but there was no feeling sexy in them; only motherly. Nursing was a profession that required a mother’s tenderness, though.

Letting my gaze roam my abundant curves, I sighed. I’d changed a good five times already. First dates were always difficult to dress for. You didn’t want to be overdressed or underdressed. There was a delicate balance to these things.

Twisting, I studied my side profile, fluffing my long sleeve, black, skater dress. Black tights covered my thick legs, grey booties were season appropriate, as was the grey scarf attempting to conceal my unable-to-be-concealed double chin. Mindlessly, I stroked the hand-knit garment. Christmas Day would be five years since she’d passed away, and not a day went by that I didn’t think of my grandmother still. I continued to have moments of disbelief, moments when I couldn’t believe she was gone.

Exhaling softly, I adjusted the long gold necklace peeking beneath the scarf, touching the top swell of my breasts, breasts that were little more than a handful for most men. The top half of the black number hugged my curves in an unforgiving yet flattering way. Something was missing, though. Grey and black weren’t exactly exciting, and certainly not enough to make a solid first impression.

Stalking back to my closet, I sifted through my options, for what felt like the millionth time. Spotting the cropped, faux leather jacket, I yanked it off of the hanger. Walking back to the mirror, I slid into the smooth material, giving it a tug over my shoulders, ensuring it was sitting properly. Studying how the pieces contrasted yet complimented each other, a smile split my face. “Perfect.”

My grin widened as I admired the way the jacket added bulk to my least bulky area: my chest, and ended at the tiniest part of my waist, emphasizing my pear shape. It was an unexpected combo that made the outfit more casual and edgy, yet classy and chic. I felt amazing in it, which meant I would hold my head higher when meeting him.

Blowing out a small breath, I fluffed my long, dark brown locks. Stone was my version of perfection. If I wasn’t his cup of tea in this outfit, then I never would be. I was hoping like hell that I was, though.

We’d met on a free dating site three months ago. Despite living two towns away, just across the state line, we hadn’t met before. We both worked a lot, but should have been able to meet before now, especially since he owned his own business and could technically make his own schedule. That piece definitely had me worried. He claimed to own the only gym in Black Fall, but I couldn’t find much in the way of an online presence for the business.

Or Stone, outside of his dating profile.

Every day that passed, I fell a little harder for him, and every day, my fear multiplied, certain I was being catfished.

Part of me hoped I was, because I’d never set foot in a gym. In one shift at work, I could easily take eight thousand steps. That was the unglamorous side of nursing; that, the long twelve hour shifts, and the doctors who thought they were God. Every job had its pitfalls, though.

The other part of me worried about the repercussions his lies could cause, if they were indeed lies, and therefore prayed harder than ever that he was who he claimed to be. I tried not to think about it too much. I could seriously regret that move later, but, for now, ignorance was bliss.

Strolling to the bed, I snatched up my smartphone. Swiping to unlock the device, I went to my photos, specifically the photos I’d saved of him.

In his pictures, he appeared rough around the edges. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that he’d broken his nose a few times; it had a sizeable bump atop it, yet it didn’t detract from his looks. It gave him a bigger bad boy flare, and his brown hair, always in disarray, gave him an I-don’t-give-an-eff quality that upped his sex appeal.

He was pure muscle on muscle, not something I typically found attractive, but, yet again, there was just something about him. His biceps were nearly as big as my thigh, no easy feat, but it gave me hope that maybe he could be the first man to heft my abundance and make me feel dainty, and well protected. He fed a lot of hope within me, more than I was comfortable admitting to myself.

And his smile; just looking at his smile put one on my face. It was the single element that softened all of his hardness, that made me think he was a bigger teddy bear than he appeared to be at first. Getting to know him, I knew he could be tough, but I knew he had a wonderful, soft heart.

Aside from the fact that I couldn’t seem to verify his identity, he was everything a girl could dream of. He texted me every morning, randomly to let me know he was thinking about me, and he called me every couple nights after seven, just in case I was working that day.

He did work a lot, though. We’d had very few conversations without interruptions on his end. At the least, if he didn’t own a business, he was definitely in management, but that wouldn’t be much in the way of consolations if this were all a lie.

My stomach knotted. Tears welled as I peered at his image. “God, I don’t want anything for Christmas, except him.” Even though we hadn’t met, I cared about him. More than I wanted to. Containing my optimism where he was concerned was next to impossible. And that made him scarier than the others. I’d opened up and had already given him pieces of me that no one else had ever had, and that scared me, because he effortlessly achieved it.

As a result, tonight could go one of two ways. It could be my biggest disappointment to date, or it could be the beginning of amazing.

There was only one way to find out.

Sucking in a deep breath, I clutched the phone to my chest, spinning to give myself a final, nervous, once-over in the mirror. This was it.

Shaking my head, I forced myself away. There was no such thing as perfection. There was only the closest thing to it. Stone was the closest thing to it that I’d found, or so he seemed to be.

Flipping off the light, I walked to the living room. Grabbing my purse off of the sofa, I was just about to stuff my phone in the structured bag when it chimed. Pausing, I glanced at the screen. My heart instantly sunk as I read his message.

‘I’m so sorry, babe, but I can’t make it tonight. I’ve been fighting a cold all week, and it finally caught up with me. I know this looks bad, waiting till the last minute and all. I was hoping the meds would kick it. I promise I’ll make it up to you.’

With a sigh, I dropped my phone on the sofa and trudged back to my room. Sadly, this wasn’t the first time a man had cancelled on me at the last minute, but, in all my thoughts over how tonight would go, this was the single scenario I naïvely hadn’t considered.

My chest tightened and my throat constricted as I walked to the closet, not bothering to turn on the light. I felt tears prick my eyes as I stripped off my date attire, tossing it on the top shelf to hang later, and plucked a pair of leggings, a tank top, and socks from my dresser, not caring if it matched or was a hot mess. I tried not to let it get to me, but in the minute since I’d read his text, every disparaging emotion under the sun washed through me.

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