Page 53 of Mated to the Mountain Bear
“He’s actually been very hospitable, made sure I had breakfast every morning, fixed the hot water so I could have a proper bath, taught me how to shoot, and even did my laundry.”
It’s easy to see the exact moment my brothers register what she’s said.
Mason’s grin freezes as if someone hit pause on his face. Even Beau pauses mid-sip of his coffee, eyes widening slightly above the rim of his mug.
The silence stretches, just a beat too long. The sizzle of eggs in the pan is suddenly deafeningly loud.
“That’s...” Beau clears his throat, setting down his mug with exaggerated care. “Nice.”
I remain focused on the eggs, whisking them violently. The pan sizzles when I pour them in, giving me an excuse to keep my back turned. Behind me, I can practically feel the weight of their stares, unasked questions hanging in the air.
“Verynice.” Mason agrees, his tone odd. I can practically hear the gears turning in his head as he adds sarcastically, “That’s just like our Ben. Being nice. Fixing things for guests.”
“The water heater’s always been temperamental,” I mutter sulkily. “It needed fixing anyway.”
“For two years,” Mason adds helpfully. “It’s good that you found the motivation to do it now.” I don’t even need to turn around; I can hear the smirk in his voice.
Zara continues, oblivious to the undercurrents in the room. “He even gave up his bed. I tried to argue, but...” She shrugs, the movement visible in my peripheral vision. “You know how generous and accommodating he is.”
The eggs are cooking too fast, so I lower the heat and scrape at them with the spatula while my brothers digest this information. I don’t thinkgenerousis something anyone’s ever called me before.
Grumpy. Grouchy. Stubborn? Yes. All of those. Accommodating? Never.
“Well,” Mason says finally, and I can hear him trying not to laugh. “Miracles happen.”
I plate the eggs with excessive care, adding toast and bacon in neat arrangements, dragging it on to buy myself time. I know what’s coming. When I turn to serve them, all three are watching me with varying degrees of both amusement and curiosity.
“What?” Zara looks confused by their reactions, glancing between us like she’s missing the punchline to a joke. It’s easy to see that teasing each other relentlessly isn’t part of her sibling dynamic.
“Nothing.” Mason accepts his plate with exaggerated politeness, pinky raised like he’s at a tea party. “Just thrilled he’s being a gentleman.”
I set Zara’s plate in front of her more gently than the others, making sure the toast isn’t too close to the eggs, exactly the way she does it for herself.
“I can be a fucking gentleman.”
Licking the lingering traces of her juices off my lips, I admit I may not be everyone else’s idea of a gentleman, but I haven’t fucking touched her, which is what these fuckers are implying.
“There’s been some grumbling and growling,” Zara confirms, cutting into her eggs with delicate precision, clearly raised in a house with table manners, unlike the animals she’s dining withwho shovel their food in so fast, you’d think someone was trying to steal it. “But he’s not as intimidating as he thinks.”
I lean against the counter, arms crossed, and close my eyes, letting the dread of seeing my brothers’ delighted expressions wash over me. The familiar defensive posture feels necessary with my brothers giggling like schoolboys at Zara’s inadvertent brick-by-brick dismantling of my tough-guy image. “I’m very intimidating.”
“Yes, very scary,” she agrees solemnly, but her eyes are dancing with suppressed laughter. “Like a teddy bear.”
The word ‘bear’ applied to me makes my brothers exchange looks again. Now they’re worried I’ve told her. I shake my head when Beau tilts his head, giving me a meaningful look.
“Yes, he’s a bear, alright. Bear-ly tolerable.” Mason swoops in with an awful joke to dispel the tension that’s crept in.
Beau’s expression is thoughtful as he looks around, at the two books sitting on the coffee table, side by side. The two sets of boots sitting inside the door.
“Interesting.” He holds my gaze as I glare right back, daring him to challenge me. To his credit, he’s smart enough to know that now is not the time.
The conversation shifts after that, my brothers filling the silence with stories. Safe ones mostly, trying to boost Zara’s spirit after such a heavy conversation. Mason launches into the tale of when I got stuck on the roof during a storm, his hands gesturing wildly as he describes the scene. He’s always been a storyteller, embellishing details untileven Ialmost believe his tall tales.
“The stubborn idiot refused to call for help,” Mason continues, enjoying my misery, only pausing his character assassination to shovel more eggs into his mouth. “Three hours in the freezing rain because he didn’t want to admit he needed help.”
“I was fine,” I mutter, remembering the bone-deep cold, and the way my fingers had gone numb on the slick shingles.
“You were practically hypothermic,” Beau corrects mildly. “Brody had to carry you down.”
