“Good processing or bad?” She propped herself up on one elbow, her copper hair tumbling around her shoulders.
He traced a finger along her collarbone, savoring the shiver that ran through her at his touch. “Definitely good.”
His bear nudged at his consciousness.Tell her. Tell her everything. Now.
You mean we tell her now, in bed?Christopher asked.
No, weshowher,his bear replied, excitement surging through their shared consciousness.That way, she can’t help but believe.
“Hey,” Sorcha said, poking him gently in the ribs. “You looked miles away. And I am right here.”
Before Christopher could answer, his stomach let out a loud, embarrassing rumble. The tension broke as Sorcha burst into laughter, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Come on,” she said, dropping a quick kiss on his lips. “Let’s eat. That pasta’s probably cold by now, but I’m starving too.”
She slipped from the bed in one fluid movement, leaving him suddenly cold where her body had been pressed against his. Christopher reached out and caught her hand, tugging her back for another kiss. Her lips parted beneath his, and he lost himself in the taste of her, his hands sliding down to cup her bottom.
Sorcha melted against him for a long moment before pulling away with obvious reluctance. “Come on,” she said, giving his chest a gentle push. “You need to eat before your shift starts.”
Reality crashed back. His shift. Christopher groaned and closed his eyes. “I should have taken Gretel up on her offer of a night off.”
He glanced at the clock on the nightstand and felt his stomach sink. Too late now. His shift started in less than an hour. Witha sigh, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and began collecting his scattered clothes from the floor.
Looks like we’ll have to take a rain check on any showing and telling,he told his bear.
In answer, his bear roared mournfully, afraid they had let the perfect time to tell her slip away.
We can’t rush this,Christopher said.If we show her and then have to leave her to start our shift, we risk losing her.
Sorcha grabbed her robe and tied it around her waist, the thin fabric clinging to her curves in a way that made it nearly impossible to focus on getting dressed. Christopher fumbled with his buttons, distracted by the sway of her hips as she moved around the kitchen, retrieving their abandoned meal.
When he joined her, they worked together to dish up the food and refill their wine glasses. The pasta had congealed slightly, but Christopher hardly noticed, too busy stealing glances at Sorcha across the table.
“So tell me more about your work at the cabins,” she said, twirling pasta around her fork. “What does your typical night shift involve?”
Christopher took a sip of wine, grateful for the easy conversation. “It varies. I do security rounds every couple of hours. Checking the perimeter, making sure all the outdoor lights are working, that sort of thing. I handle any late-night maintenance emergencies. Guests lock themselves out surprisingly often.”
“I bet they do,” she said with a smile.
“But mostly, I’m there to help people enjoy their stay,” he continued, warming to the subject. “Some families arrive late after long drives. Others need extra firewood at midnight.Sometimes people just want recommendations for the next day’s activities.”
As he spoke about his work, about helping guests appreciate the mountains, the town, the special magic of Bear Creek, he felt a deep sense of satisfaction. This was more than just a job.It was a life he’d chosen on purpose, one he was proud of.
“That’s what I love about my job too,” Sorcha said, nodding. “Helping people find the best places to enjoy. Showing them hidden gems they might have missed otherwise.”
The similarities in their work struck Christopher. They both enjoyed helping people to find the good things in life, places to enjoy, and experiences to remember. The difference was that she kept moving, always chasing new horizons, while he had found his place to stand and stay.
All too soon, their plates were empty, and the clock was ticking toward the start of his shift. Christopher pushed back from the table with regret.
“I should get going,” he said, collecting their plates.
“If you wait a couple of minutes, I’ll go get dressed,” Sorcha said, rising from her chair.
Christopher caught her by the waist before she could move away, his hands sliding inside her robe to stroke the warm skin beneath. “Stay like this until I’ve gone,” he murmured, pressing his lips to the sensitive spot below her ear. “So I can picture you like this while I work.”
She made a soft sound in her throat, then her hand found him through his jeans, cupping his hardness with just enough pressure to make his breath catch. “I’m coming with you,” she said simply.
“What?” Christopher pulled back, sure he’d misheard.
