As the moon rose over the lake outside the back windows, I gratefully fell into bed, promising myself I’d tackle the decades worth of moss that was growing on the house the next day.
Though, I might have to go back down around the bend to ask the guys for a ladder to get the green stuff higher on the roof.
The thought of seeing them again so soon after I’d gotten my own temporary place didn’t upset me, I noted. Like, at all.
I’d have to watch that, I warned myself as I fell into another deep, black sleep.
I once again woke up fully rested—this time due to the morning sun pouring light into the little house, not muffled voices in the outer front room.
As bright as it was, the cabin was freezing. Ravik’s wood stove fire that I’d kept burning last night with sticks I’d found off the back deck had gone out.
I’d have to find a way to get it started again, though I had no idea how.
I’d grown up in Gemidgee, a small university town surrounded by farms and forest. But I’d never been a camper. I was not a fan of mosquitoes, or critters, or any animal larger than the dogs my niece, Merry, and Skye, the woman who’d turned out not to be her life partner, like we’d all assumed, had kept at their Paws & Claws Pet Adoption Cafe.
Which I guess made it even more ironic that I’d somehow ended up stuck in a middle-of-nowhere mountain town. With three men. Who could shift into bears in a blink of an eye.
Okay, you know what, I definitely needed coffee to face down this new day.
Instead of instant, I found some random coffee bag things that you had to pour hot water over, like it was tea.
It felt distinctly unAmerican. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and lucky for me, I’d found a clay mug, along with other dishware and cutlery, in the Barrington grocery totes Boone had brought over for me.
Again, I couldn’t get over Ravik’s thoughtfulness. Or stop feeling guilty that he kept on doing stuff for me.
With a sigh, I took the coffee out to sit on the back deck, which was just a small raised plank of wood with a single metal chair standing on top.
But it wasn’t rusty, and it was currently warmer out there with the sun shining down than it was in the A-frame cabin.
I didn’t expect to see a polar bear suddenly surface from the lake when I sat down.
He floated for a moment, then jerked upright, like something I couldn’t see had tapped him on the shoulder.
And that was when I got to feel the decidedly singular sensation of having a polar bear look straight at me. And grin.
He waved a paw side to side before wading to shore.
I’d only been aware of the existence of polar bear shifters for a day now, but when the creature started vibrating in a strange way, I sensed it was time to avert my eyes yet again.
“Hey, sugar, how’d you sleep?”
A few moments later, Boone came striding up the gravelly beach toward me. In nothing but a pair of black sweatpants. Droplets of water still rolling down his stone-cut chest and rock-hard abs.
“Good,” I choked out. I had to swallow because my throat was suddenly dry. “Great.”
Awkward silence.
Boone’s nose flared in that weird way it sometimes did. Then he asked, “Is the wood stove still going? Can I come in and restart it?”
“S-sure,” I squeaked out.
Then I stopped, reminded myself that I was a fifty-six year-old woman, and leveled my voice to answer, “That would be appreciated. Thank you. I was hoping to get a lesson on how to use it anyway.”
Boone followed me back into the house through the open sliding door, but to my surprise, he walked through the house to the front porch and came back with his arms full of logs.
“Don’t worry, there’s more waiting on the porch,” he said, as if I’d been expecting a log delivery this morning and could possibly be disappointed. “Figured I’d show you how to use the stove first before bringing another pile in.”
“Th-thank you.” I was back to stuttering.
