Page 13 of A Beary Merry Christmas

Sitting patiently, I listened to him order a massive quantity of food. Based on his size, though, he probably ate a solid three to five thousand calories a day, as he worked out an average of two hours a day, focusing on weights and strength training. Being a business owner kept him busy as well.

Part of me secretly wished I could gorge myself regularly, but that would be the opposite of what my body needed, especially at five feet two inches. I definitely indulged, but typically it was only with Sharon on the days we were both off together, which were few and far between.

It’d been a few months since we’d done a full girls’ day, complete with pedicures, Starbucks, good food and juicy gossip. I missed those. I could seriously use one soon, too.

I jumped as a blanket came down across my lap. My hand flew to my chest, a nervous chuckle escaping me.

“Sorry to scare you, beautiful.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. Strolling over to the fireplace, he flipped a switch and blue flames appeared in the hearth. Pushing a stone, he revealed a drawer from which he retrieved a remote control. Moving to the center of the fireplace, he pressed another set of stones and they folded down, revealing a slim compartment with all of the boxes.

Walking back to the sofa, he lifted the blanket’s excess beside me, sat down, propping his feet on the coffee table, and laid the blanket across his upper thighs. “What do you want to watch, babe? I have access to almost any movie or channel.” Clicking the remote, the TV turned on.

“Hm.” I worked my bottom lip. What did you choose when you could choose anything? Better yet, what did you choose when you were pretty sure your tastes were the opposite? I knew from our conversations that Stone liked action movies, especially when they involved boxing, as he wanted to go pro at one point, and a few comedy movies, but not stupid-funny ones. I, on the other hand, liked what most women did, aside from Sharon: romantic comedies and period dramas. The only commonality was comedy, but most of the current titles leaned towards over-exaggerated humor, which meant classics were the way to go.

A wistful smile curled my lips and I thought of Gran. Every year we watched the same holiday movie, because she was a big Chevy Chase fan. She thought he was an “adorable hoot.”

Looking at Stone, I was caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze as he took me in. Heat turned his usually brown eyes into molten honey pools that seemed to pierce me. There was something striking about him, almost otherworldly. He was beautiful and mesmerizing. I wanted to get lost in his depths. I wanted to get lost in him.

But that wasn’t a good idea while he was sick. It was the surest way to ruin my holiday plans.

Grabbing hold of that logical part of myself, I broke the trance, turning my focus to the television. “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.”

A little laugh escaped him. “That was unexpected, but, then again, you’re full of wonderful surprises.”

I heard the approval in his tone. I liked that he thought I was different. You always wanted to be different than the women in his past, because things didn’t work with them for a reason. “It’s a tradition in my house.” I shrugged my shoulders, aiming for the admission to be nonchalant, but the catch in my voice betrayed me.

He didn’t comment. He didn’t say anything to sway the moment. He simply wrapped an arm around me and pulled me close, pressing his lips tenderly to my head. The act was sweet, romantic even, and utterly perfect.

Before I could stop it, hope swelled in my chest. For so long I’d wanted this, someone like him. Half of me wanted to scream in celebration, the other half of me wanted to run in fear. Because, chances were, if he seemed too good to be true, he likely was too good to be true.

But darn was I praying hard for him to be the exception. Every woman only needed one man who was the exception, one to come along and change their luck, end their losing streak, one to make her forget every reject and rejection before him.

I only needed one.

And I wanted that one to be Stone.

But you couldn’t alter fate. I knew, if we were meant to be, we would be. If not, someone even better was waiting for me down the road, as hard as that was to fathom.

Chapter Ten

December 19th

Stone

The hours passed like minutes. We watched a marathon of classic holiday comedies and ate two rounds of Chinese food. All the while, I couldn’t help but think that I was the luckiest man alive. I had never been so content to sit around on my ass all day.

Looking down at her sleeping form, curled into me, my heart was full. I didn’t know how or when, but she’d captured my heart and filled it to the brim with joy. I was the happiest I’d ever been, even while sick, and it was because of her. I never wanted to lose her. Hell, I didn’t even want to let her go now, and she’d been asleep for half an hour already.

The tickle in my throat worked into a cough. I cringed inside, holding as steady as possible, trying not to jostle her. My throat screamed with irritation. I couldn’t wait for this cold to be gone. I had so much more to look forward to with her when it was.

Gently scooping her into my arms, I stood and carried her to my room. I’d always liked bigger women, probably because they were nearly non-existent in the were community. Our metabolism didn’t allow for it. It took an average of a thousand calories merely to shift into our other form and another thousand to turn back.

From a psychology perspective, it was more likely because I wanted someone who was the opposite of my mother. She was nice, but far from nurturing.

I could tell, just in how she was with me today, that Lora wouldn’t be like that. She accepted every hug, didn’t shy away when I coughed or my snot ran, and, on several occasions, she reminded me to drink more fluids, to ensure I stayed hydrated. I’m pretty sure she would have done more than that if I let her, but it was bad enough that being sick prevented me from taking her on a proper date. I definitely owed her one when this crud ran its course.

Shifting her weight, I pulled back the covers and laid her down. She looked like my dream version of Sleeping Beauty: plush, curvy, soft and utterly breathtaking.

Dammit. Covering her full figure, I rushed to the kitchen. Snatching a napkin from the drawer on the island, I blew my nose. Why couldn’t weres be immune like the books made us out to be?

---