Page 24 of Holly's Grizzly

And I do, I really do. Even if I forget sometimes. Even if I’ve been lost in the fog this past year and haven’t always seen it clearly, it’s time to get my head back on straight and remember they both love me, broken bits and all.

After a couple more minutes, and with promises to keep them updated about when I make it home, we hang up. I settle back into the soft cushions on Irving’s couch, and it’s just a few more minutes after that before he reappears from outside.

He claimed he needed to get a couple of things done in his shop, but I’m almost certain that was a fib to give me some privacy to talk to my friends.

As he shrugs off his jacket and comes to join me on the couch, that little bit of consideration is just one more thing to admire about him. It’s one more sappy, gooey ache in my chest, and one more reason I’m determined to find out if I’m the only one feeling this way.

8

Irving

By the end of Holly’s second day with me, one thing is very clear.

I’ve got it bad for my temporary house guest.

I can’t remember the last time I met someone I felt so instantly comfortable with. In the steady stream of conversation we keep up throughout the day and the times we lapse into easy silence, there’s never a moment of discomfort. Even when she casually drops in a question about whether or not I’m dating anyone and sends my heart leaping into my throat, a sensation that’s only amplified by her small, unreadable smile when I tell her I’m not. It gives me hope I shouldn’t feel that I might not be losing my mind here.

It doesn’t hurt that Holly’s absolutely stunning. I have to keep giving myself reminders not to stare when all I want is to admire the gleam of her golden hair, the adorable little dimples in her cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes when they catch the firelight.

The logical part of me knows I should question it more. I shouldn’t feel so much so fast. I should keep some perspective and some distance and I shouldn’t forget this will all be over when she leaves in a couple of days.

The less logical part of me, though…

The less logical part of me marvels over how any of this is possible. It makes me wonder just how often in life I’ll meet someone I connect with so easily. Effortless, the time we spend together, like we’ve known each other all our lives.

Grizzly shifters aren’t so fortunate—or unfortunate, I suppose, depending on who you ask—to have fated mates like some other kinds of paranormals do. If we did, though, I imagine it would feel like this.

Easy. Natural. Like the answer to a question I never knew to ask or the first deep, gasping breath taken after being underwater.

But I can’t let myself go there.

As soon as the roads are passable, I’ll get her down the mountain.

The old truck I drive hasn’t been starting reliably for the past couple of weeks, but I’ll figure something out. I can call Vic to give her a ride, or get my buddy Emery from the other side of the mountain to come out and take a look at what I suspect is a faulty alternator. I’d meant to get on that before the blizzard, but it hadn’t seemed all that urgent.

It doesn’t seem urgent now, either. Not when it means that as soon as the truck is back up and running, Holly will leave, but that’s a problem for tomorrow.

Today, we’ve got a little more time to spend together. The snow is still falling and the fire’s still warm, and the unexpected woman who came crashing into my life makes it all so much brighter.

With that in mind, I resolve to keep my head on straight.

I resolve to quit gawking at her, to stop all those unreasonable thoughts right in their tracks.

It’s resolve that only lasts as long as it takes Holly to step out of the bathroom, where she’d been changing from her hiking clothes into something more comfortable.

She’s wearing nothing more than the plaid flannel button-down I gave her a few minutes ago. It hits her at mid-thigh and leaves her shapely legs on full display. All that soft golden skin of hers gleams in the low light from the flames dancing in the hearth.

My mouth goes dry. “Didn’t need the pants?”

Holly shrugs, tugging gently at the shirt. “Well, this is basically a dress on me, and it’s plenty warm with the fire, so I figured they weren’t necessary.”

She walks over and holds the discarded sweats in question out to me, with some expression on her face I can’t quite read. Her lips are turned up at the corners and there’s a sparkle of… something in her eye. Some small teasing challenge, like she’s just waiting for me to say something else, do something else, pull her into my arms and—

Nope. Not going there.

If she’s more comfortable this way, that’s fine. I don’t need to be a godsdamned creep about it.

We settle onto the couch and sit in silence for a couple of minutes, watching the snow fall outside the window. The fire crackles and pops, and I’m far too aware of how easily I could reach for her, tug her to me, have her sprawled across my lap in seconds.

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