Page 14 of Snowed in with the Bear Shifter
ELOISE
She kept sneaking glances at him as they brought the boxes into the house and set them in the living room.Roarke’s mate,she thought, tasting the words, swirling them around in her mind as she took a seat on the rug.
It was strange, hearing Roarke call her his mate. But it didn’t feel wrong. Honestly, she’d never considered the possibility of being someone’s mate, not even after her bestie found herself mated to that demon lawyer of hers last year.
In fact, the idea of being Roarke’s mate slotted into a space in her soul like it was made to fit there. The question was, did she want to be his mate, to accept that bond to him? Because of what she knew about shifter mate bonds, once they acknowledged and accepted that bond, that was it. They were bound together for the rest of their lives. She wasn’t certain if it worked that way with shifter-witch pairings, but if it did, would being his mate be such a disaster?
The more she got to know Roarke, the more time she spent with him, the more she liked him. Being around him was fun and easy. She felt more herself in his presence. Knowing he’d support her when she needed that extra boost, lend a muscularshoulder for her to cry on, and go along with her shenanigans even if he was there just to make sure she stayed safe gave her strength and peace of mind she didn’t realize she needed.
It wasn’t only that, though. If it were, she’d be able to write him off as a friend with relative ease and be done with the whole thing.
It was the spark between them bright enough to light a midwinter night. She’d never experienced anything like it.
The sexual attraction was electric, shocking her with its strength every time they touched. And they hadn’t done anything more than kiss. Still, her entire body heated at the memory of his hands on her and the salty taste of his lips. She had to resist fanning herself to ease the flash of heat that coursed through her. She couldn’t help but sneak another peek his way.
Only to notice the damned bear was running around barefoot again. She didn’t have a foot fetish — not that there was anything wrong with that — but this was a man who knew how to properly groom his feet. Not a scraggly nail or crusty heel to be found. And that light dusting of dark hair on his toes was doing her in.If I do have a foot fetish,she thought,it’s only for Roarke and his nicely maintained feet.
She shook her head and turned back to her boxes, tapping a finger against her knee. Despite the strength of their connection, there was always the option to deny the mate bond. She could just say no thanks and walk away. It would devastate Roarke, but she’d feel no long-term repercussions except a sense of lingering regret.
But she couldn’t bear to do that, not to him. For one, she couldn’t force herself to cut him off like that. Her heart ached at the idea. For two, the vision she’d had of the two of them, the one that teased her with a future where they loved each other and shared a happy life together kept replaying in her brain.
Was she denying herself something beautiful by clinging to her singlehood and independence? It wasn’t like Rourke was the type to stifle her in any way. If anything, he was exactly the kind of man she claimed to be looking for — someone supportive and loving, someone who would be the delicious cherry on the top of her sundae rather than the whole banana.
She let out a small sigh at the complexities of love and life and pulled a box closer, unceremoniously ripping off the tape sealing it shut. A wide grin split her face when she saw the tangled wires of a big-bulbed strand of colorful lights. This was promising. Hopefully, those lights still worked despite their age. They just needed to be untangled. She set the box aside and moved to the next.
Beneath a tissue paper layer of the second box lay a treasure trove of vintage Shiny Brite ornaments in a variety of shapes and bright colors. Practically drooling at the unexpected haul, she pulled out a hot pink icicle ornament with mica stripes, admiring it.
Roarke’s frustrated growl momentarily distracted her from her discovery. He’d wrangled the tree into the old stand she’d found on top of the neatly labeled Christmas boxes and was currently prone on the floor, head and shoulders hidden beneath the low branches.
“So, how’s it going over there, Roar?” she asked, carefully setting the ornament back in the box.
“Motherfu…” he bit off a curse. “There has got to be an easier way to do this,” he growled as he twisted the long screws around the edge of the base while trying to keep the tree upright.
“Need some help?” She popped to her feet and grabbed the trunk about halfway up, the tree’s needles catching on her shirt and filling the air with the scent of pine.
“Thanks. Is it straight?” he asked.
Without letting go, she leaned back and eyed the tree. “Straight enough.”
He grunted. “Good. Hold it there a minute while I secure this thing.” It took some more growling, but Roarke got the last screw tightened, the tree standing straight and proud, its tip nearly brushing the ceiling. “There,” he said, scrubbing his palms against his jeans to rid them of the sap. “Done.”
“Um…” she picked up the box with the tangled wires and dropped it at his feet. “Not quite.”
Hands on his hips, he looked from the box to her. “Seriously?”
“You’re so good with your hands,” she said, with an encouraging pat on his arm. “This won’t take you any time at all.”
His brows drew together as he nudged the box with a toe. “You just don’t want to spend all afternoon unpicking this mess.”
A grin crossed her face as she tapped the side of her nose.
“Do they even work?”
“Maybe?” She shrugged. “Unless you have alternate lights we can use, this is what we’ve got to work with.”
“And a tree needs lights, right?”
She nodded.
