Page 46 of Bear Naked Truth
She was in the kitchen, stacking the last of the clean tea mugs when he walked in. Her hair was pulled into a loose bun, little curls slipping free to frame her face, and she wore one of her usual oversized sweaters, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She didn’t see him at first, too caught up in lining mugs with neurotic precision.
“Autumn,” he said gently.
She turned, startled, then offered a faint smile. “Hey.”
He stepped closer, tucking his hands into his back pockets. “Can I ask you something that doesn’t involve ghosts, curses, or psychic trauma?”
Her brow arched, but amusement flickered at the corners of her mouth. “That’s a tall order.”
“I’ll risk it.”
She leaned her hip against the counter, mug still in hand. “Alright. Hit me.”
“Go out with me.”
She blinked.
He held her gaze. Steady. Unflinching. “Not fake. Not for show. I want to take you out. Just you. Just me.”
She hesitated, something unreadable crossing her face.
“You don’t have to say yes,” he added. “No pressure. But I’d really like to have a night that’s ours. Away from the inn. Away from the past.”
Her grip tightened on the mug, then slowly loosened. “Just a night?”
“I’ll take what you give me.”
She exhaled softly, physically letting herself give in. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s do it.”
Dorian didn’t do fancy, but he did thoughtful.
He set a table out back beneath the string lights he’d strung between the porch columns last fall. The old garden chairs werelayered with soft flannel throws, and the table was topped with a basket of fried chicken, spiced sweet potatoes, and her favorite lemon-rosemary biscuits. A small cooler sat beside it, filled with ginger beer and apple cider.
Autumn stepped out just after twilight, her shoes treading lightly on the gravel path. She wore a long wool coat, sweater dress underneath, and her hair down in soft waves catching the light.
He forgot how to breathe for a second.
“This is…” she looked around, lips parting. “Really lovely.”
He grinned. “Only the best for my ghost wrangler.”
She rolled her eyes, but the smile stayed. “If you try to serenade me with a banjo, I’m leaving.”
“Was gonna bring out a kazoo, but alright.”
They ate on the porch under the stars, laughter echoing across the hills between bites. They talked about everything except ghosts—childhood stories, favorite foods, books that made them cry. He told her about the time he accidentally turned into his bear form at a sixth-grade field trip. She told him how she once punched a boy in the nose for mocking a spirit in her old town.
He loved the sound of her laugh. Not the polite one she gave strangers, but the real one—the one that made her eyes crinkle and her hand smack the table like she couldn’t help it.
By the time they finished, the air had cooled, the sky ink-black and full of stars.
“Walk with me?” he asked.
She nodded, tucking her arm into his without hesitation this time.
They strolled through the back trail leading near the end of the inn’s property. The moon spilled silver light through the trees. Autumn stopped by an old bench nestled beside the creek that bordered the woods, her breath curling in the chill.
He wrapped his coat around her shoulders without a word, his fingers brushing her arms.
