Page 35 of Bearly Yours
I laughed and pushed her away a little so I could stroke her forehead like Roarke was doing with Dimitri. Dimitri’s eyes were closed, and he looked like he was blissed out.
“You’re not taking me away. I’m going voluntarily, and I’m really pretty much demanding to go.”
“But what about your animals? Who will feed them and care for them while you’re gone?”
He shrugged. “I have a few people I can call to take care of them for me, or, if Riggs is feeling particularly generous, maybe I can talk him into letting me take them with me.”
I blinked. “We don’t have pens and a barn for them,” I protested.
“You guys have a few outbuildings that I think we could convert, and putting up a few pens would be the work of a few days if all of us pitched in.”
I nodded, continuing to stroke Tabitha’s forehead and mane. I made a mental note to ask my alpha if he would grant Roarke this favor, and hoped like crazy the animals wouldn’t be afraid of Riggs. They’d gotten used to Roarke, so I was hopeful.
He put the horses in the barn with some grain and a topped up water trough, and made sure the rest of the animals were also in for the day before we made our way back to the house and his huge sunken living room and massive TV. I swear, the thing nearly took up an entire wall. I mean, I was exaggerating, but not much. It washuge.
Not for the first time, it occurred to me that Roarke was insanely wealthy. It just didn’t occur to me often because hedidn’t flaunt it. He lived comfortably but not extravagantly. But, yeah, apparently my mate was insanely rich. His wealth didn’t bother me. Roarke was a very grounded person. His money just made his life easier; it didn’t make his life.
After making sure I was comfy on the couch, Roarke went into the kitchen and brought out a tray of doughy pretzels, warm bowls of jalapeno cheddar cheese, cooled-down chocolate chip cookies—I was weird and didn’t like them warm—and bottles of ice cold water. He set it all on the coffee table in front of us, then he pulled up his streaming account.
“What are we watching?”
I grabbed a few more pillows and used them to pad the couch behind me until I felt like I was resting back against a cloud. “I’m in the mood for a comedy, and I have a movie idea, but you’re going to hate it.”
He turned to me with an eyebrow raised, his finger poised over the remote, just waiting for me to tell him which title to go to. And I paused a moment to appreciate him. We went back and forth picking movies. This week happened to be my pick. But Roarke, even though he didn’t often like my picks, was unfailingly patient with me. He hardly ever complained, and if he did, it was super mild and always in a lightly teasing way.
“I appreciate you,” I told him randomly.
He blinked, and then slowly smiled a very small and crooked smile. “I appreciate you too,mo chroì.”
“I think I need to learn Irish Gaelic.”
He laughed. “Not unless you want to know all of my curse words.”
“Not really, no. What doesmo chroìmean?”
His eyes turned warm and there was so much emotion in them that I had to catch my breath. “It means my heart.”
“Oh,” was my pithy response. Seriously, I was killing it with the romance over here. Everyone else should take romance lessons from me.
“Still feel like it’s not real?” he asked, somehow sussing out my hesitancy.
“Yeah.”
He nodded. “Don’t worry. It’ll settle.” He didn’t look stressed or worried about my lack of response at all, which made me feel like I could take a breather. I did not know how this man always knew how to handle me and my mental and emotional strangeness but he always seemed to. I’d always felt really blessed to have him as a best friend. But to potentially have him as a mate? For the rest of my life? Utter bliss. I felt myself daring to hope for the first time since the mate reveal.
I cleared my throat gently. “Umm, I was thinking we could watchRocketman, the old Disney movie. It’s a comedy, and I used to love it, but it’s goofy funny and I know that’s not your favorite.”
He didn’t respond to my long ramblyness; he just pulled up the movie on his streaming device, paid for it, and settled in next to me to watch.
My attention was on the movie, but it was also on Roarke. After the opening credits, he’d moved to sit closer to me, handing me a plate with a small bowl of cheese sauce and a doughy, warm pretzel.
“You’re not going to eat right now?”
He shook his head. “I made it for you. I’m not a fan of pretzels.”
I gaped at him. “I don’t think we can be friends anymore.”
“You would ditch me over pretzels?”
