Why the hell had his grizzly decided on her of all people? It really needed a reality check because the last person who was ever going to let him between her thighs was Julie Simon. But did the grizzly listen to logic? Of course not. Even as it grumbled inside him for looking foolish, it still urged him to go back upstairs. To cook her food and feed her with his own fingers. And then, when she was fat and slow from eating, he could bend her over the table and impregnate her.
Moron grizzly.
He needed to get those journals and get her out of his home. The longer she stayed here, the longer it would take to get her scent out of his brain. And his bear would not be distracted as long as he could smell her.
With that in mind, he booted up his computer to make a digital copy of her father’s files. Normally, that would take about five seconds. But he spent ten minutes trying to find a spare USB flash drive to load it on. He found one in his desk. It was shaped like a teddy bear with a goofy grin on his face and a tiny pinhole through his heart. A holiday gift from Tonya, who specialized in graveyard humor. Everyone knew he was likely to die in the next year—probably with a shot to the heart—so why pretend otherwise? Mark had laughed for ten minutes when he’d received it. Carl, their alpha, had stormed out of the room in a dark fury.
That was three years ago. Now that his death was ticking ominously close, the thing just depressed him. So he loaded the flash drive with the files and headed upstairs to give it to his high school nemesis. He found her sitting as regal as any queen at his kitchen table, food untouched.
“Something wrong?” he asked, his stomach twisting painfully in his belly. Damn, he was hungry. But the cramp faded beneath the purr his grizzly let off the moment she came into view.
She jolted and frowned. “No. Should there be?”
He gestured to the untouched meal. It pissed him off that she wouldn’t deign to eat food he’d prepared. “Steak too rare?”
“No. I was waiting for you.”
It took a moment for him to process her words. She’d been waiting because normal people ate meals together. They didn’t swallow it down the moment food appeared like a starving bear. “Oh. Um. No need. Go ahead. It’s probably getting cold.”
“That’s what microwaves are for.”
He winced at the idea that she’d nuke his cooking, but didn’t comment. He joined her at the table, forcing himself to sit down like a human being. The animal in him wanted to nuzzle her until she was pinned against a tree.
“Eat,” he said. Suave…not.
She smiled uncertainly at him then picked up her fork and knife. “That’s a nice tee. Is that a band?”
He looked down at his shirt and tried not to sigh. Did she really think Nathan Fillion was in a band called Spectrum? “No. It’s a TV show.”
“Spectrum? I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s not a real TV show.”
“What?”
He looked at her and tried to find an easy way to explain a crowd-funded web series based on actors who played in a fake TV show called Spectrum but everyone knew was Firefly. “It’s a science fiction show big in fandom.”
“Oh. Maybe I can rent it.”
“Good luck with that.”
She looked up at him sharply. He didn’t blame her. It wasn’t a real TV show, but he didn’t have the wherewithal to explain just then. And she still wasn’t eating. “Don’t you like steak? I can fix you something else.”
“No. I…” Pink tinged her cheeks. “I was just waiting for you—the host—to eat first.”
“What? Oh.” He scrambled to hack off a hunk of his meat and shove it into his mouth. Had he lost his ability to function in polite society or had he never learned? Either way, he’d been watching to see her reaction to his cooking and not paying any attention to his food.
One bite, though, fixed that. Hunger gripped his belly, and it was all he could do to force himself to chew. Meanwhile, she cut off a dainty corner of her steak and popped it into her mouth. Her eyes widened with surprise, and then slipped partially closed in delight. Then, best of all, she released a low murmur of appreciation.
Now that was the reaction he’d been waiting for. He might be three-quarters feral, but he could still cook.
Grinning, he set to his meal with relish. Part of him wished he could slow down and appreciate his own cooking, but after three days, he was starving. If he were alone, he’d make another steak, but he didn’t want to leave her even to go across the room. So he ate everything in front of him, pausing long enough to grab the bowl of leftover salad and inhale that. And yet through all that, he kept his attention on her. He watched her take precise bites and chew them daintily. He studied her every facial expression, watching for those seconds when she savored the taste of something. And God forbid she grimaced. If that happened, he would snatch away her food and make her something better. Something that hadn’t sat cooling for fifteen minutes while he’d dressed.
But she never did. She liked what he’d given her, and that delighted his bear to no end. Especially when she ate every bite and sat back in her chair with a contented sigh.
“That was incredible.”
“Did you want something else? Dessert, maybe?”
