I scrunched my forehead.Hold on, should I feel complimented or insulted here?
Either way: “That’s not the only reason,” I let her know. “Especially in Bear Mountain?—”
An alarm went off on her watch before I could explain that my intentions toward her weren’t shortsighted.
“Oh, that’s my reminder to check if a room is available at the lodge. I can’t believe two hours passed so quickly.”
She dropped her napkin on the bar and hopped off the stool.
It was like watching the Rest of My Life try to walk out of my life.
“Wait!” I called after her.
She turned back around. “Oh, I almost forgot. Thank you for offering me a place to stay. Time passed faster with you because I enjoyed your company. Your mom was right. I now consider you a friend I can most likely trust… at least for one night.”
A sweet little smile lifted the lips I couldn’t wait to kiss. “So, if there’s no room available, I’ll come back here and take you up on your offer. Okay, bye!”
She gave me a wave, and that promise made, turned to walk away.
Well, she was wrong. Not just about my feelings on settling down, but in her assessment of me.
I wasn’t her friend. I was her goddamn maul mate.
And she could absolutely not trust me. Not yet, at least.
The moment she walked out the bar’s doors, I dug my phone out of my back pocket. With my heart pounding in my throat, I texted my brother, who was manning the lodge’s front desk until we shut down reception at midnight:
MATE INCOMING: The woman we’re meant to be with is headed to the lodge to ask about a room. No matter what—DO NOT GIVE IT TO HER. She has to stay with us.
lark. lark bird.
. . .
gideon
Ispent the first two hours of my front desk shift at the lodge checking people in with my laziest impression of Callum and fixing the broken lock system in the one out-of-service room. My oldest sister had left a request to do whatever it took to find a room for some tourist without a reservation who’d helped Wabby with his homework.
Her name was Lark. Lark Bird, of all things. Probably some Vancouver hipster kid. But I’d been meaning to fix the door anyway.
My phone buzzed with Cal’s special tone just as I finished up. Probably yet another message about me needing to crash in the mayor’s room because he was bringing some tourist back to ours.
Swear, more out-of-towners had seen the inside of the Ayaska Village’s sacred cave dens thanks to Cal than any other Bear Mountain resident. I didn’t want to say he was giving outsiders a bad (and horny) reputation, but he definitely wasn’thelping the chances of anyone else from Bear Mountain Proper hoping to be invited into a maul.
Also, sleeping in the mayor’s room wasn’t ideal. He was due back from Victoria early tomorrow morning after all the secret meetings he was required to take on top of doing his human-facing MLA job. I’d have to get up even earlier to launder his sheets and erase all traces of me having slept there.
Sleeping in another bear’s den—especially when he wasn’t there—was considered a no-no, bordering on unethical, by our kind. Like the bear version of Goldilocks. And I didn’t feel like dealing with it after a long day of helping Sarah’s husbands string Christmas lights, even though it took until around nine p.m. for the sun to go down on late-summer nights.
Knowing I’d be texting back “No,”I put off answering until I’d cleaned up my new-lock mess.
But just as I pulled out my phone after stepping back behind the front desk, the exterior door chime sounded.
And the smell of honey hit my nose.
Later, I wouldn’t be able to tell you what came first—my dick getting hard for the first time in forever or my first sight of her when I looked up from the phone.
Either way…
Either way…
