Page 14 of Holly's Grizzly

Like most shifters, my other form is me… and not me. He takes his post in the corner of my mind while I’m in this human form, but when I allow myself to shift, he’s at the forefront.

His wants, his needs, his instincts. They’re still mostly aligned with my own, and I’m not beyond the capability of reining them in when they rear up as strong as they are now.

But it’s not the time or place to indulge them, so I push them down and turn my attention back to shuffling things around on the counter and making sure everything’s ready when Holly is.

Only a couple of short minutes later, the bathroom door creaks open and Holly steps out.

Cheeks pink, hair hanging in damp waves around her face, her petite frame draped in my shirt and pants, the sight of her sends a strange lurching sensation through the center of my chest, bringing all those unreasonable instincts right back to the surface.

A small island separates the kitchen from the living space, and Holly settles onto a stool there, leaning over her crossed arms as she watches me work.

“Did you find everything you needed in there?” I ask, keeping my gaze focused on the sauce that doesn’t need any more damn stirring.

“I did. Thanks again for… well, for all of this.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her she doesn’t need to keep thanking me, but I’m still half-convinced anything I try to say to put those worries of hers at ease will only make them worse, so I just murmur my acceptance of her thanks.

Silence falls for a few moments, and when I chance a glance back over my shoulder, I find her looking curiously at the open cupboard next to the stove.

“Do you do a lot of canning?” she asks, gesturing toward the various jars of vegetables and preserves lining the shelf.

I nod. “I keep a garden on the south side of my property and grow enough during the summer to have me pretty well-stocked for the rest of the year.”

Holly perks up a little at that. “I’ve always wanted to get into gardening. Someday, I mean. Having a condo in the city doesn’t give me a whole lot of room for planting things.”

“Portland?” I guess.

“Seattle. I live pretty close to downtown and work for a biotech company.”

I raise an impressed eyebrow. “Scientist?”

“Software developer,” she says a little ruefully. “Not as sexy as coming up with new miracle drugs, but it pays the bills.”

“Sounds pretty impressive to me.” I dish up our pasta and salad and hand a plate across the counter to her.

She takes it with an abashed smile. “It’s… it’s alright.”

Circling the counter, I take the spot at the opposite end of the island and set my own plate down before returning to the kitchen and getting us both a glass of water.

“What about you?” Holly asks, changing the subject as she twirls a bit of pasta around her fork. “What do you do for work?”

“I own a woodworking business,” I tell her, settling into my seat. “Furniture, mostly, and I work out of a shop I built next to the house.”

Holly hums her response before she takes a bite, and I very determinedly don’t look at her, even as she hums again—lower, and more appreciative this time.

“This is incredible.”

“It’s a pretty simple dish,” I say with a shrug, trying not to let my ego inflate any more than it needs to.

But, as we lapse into silence and dig into our meal, I find it’s a losing battle.

I catch a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye, and the sight of her sitting there doesn’t do any favors for the instincts I’m doing my damndest to keep at bay.

She’s safe, warm, fed, cared for, and my grizzly reaffirms how much he likes that with a low, satisfied rumble.

Holly glances over, and for a few mortified seconds I almost think I let the sound escape, that she heard merumblingat her. But she doesn’t look upset, or like she’s ready to bolt, so maybe I’m in the clear.

“I get the feeling you’re probably sick of me thanking you,” she says with a small, chagrin smile, “but I’m going to have to at least one more time. Thank you, Irving, truly. For dinner, and the rest of it.”

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