Page 3

Chapter 3

Mabel

I almost melt into a puddle of goo as Mr. Tall, Dark, and Growly stares down at me. I crane my neck way the heck back to look into his dark brown eyes. Oh my. He’s freaking huge and gorgeous. Like seriously make-you-forget-your-own-name hot.

I’m unable to stop staring into his dark chocolate eyes. His deep woodsy scent tickles my nose, soothing something deep inside me. Swallowing, I force myself to step back. Holy cow, that’s when I get a really good look at him. This bear shifter is freaking huge. The adorable white bear eating honey logo on the left side of his emerald-green t-shirt looks out of place on the material stretching across his massive chest. I’m betting his arms are bigger around than my thigh, which is impressive since I’m a fairly curvy woman. As my eyes continue moving down his muscular body, I ignore the curious bulge behind his zipper and stare at his tree-trunk-sized legs encased in tight denim.

He growls softly, bringing my eyes back up to meet his. While his dark brown eyes hold mine captive, I notice the honey-colored ring surrounding his irises. Under my stare, the ring turns to molten gold. Holy moly. This bear looks like he’s ready to make a meal out of me.

I barely resist the urge to fan myself as I realize I’m in so much trouble.

Bethany comes strolling through the swinging door that leads to the bakery and comes to a dead stop. “Oh.” Her eyes move back and forth between us repeatedly as a smile spreads across her face. “Is this the contractor who’s going to help us?”

“That’s me.” Thorne walks over and shakes her hand. “Thorne Bearly.”

“Bethany Sweet,” my sister returns, ignoring the obvious undercurrent swirling around the room. “We really appreciate the help.”

“I’m glad I can be of service.” He steps away from my sister and turns back to me. “I’m going to look around and see what is needed, then we can discuss my quote.”

“Holy cow. He is hot,” Bethany squeaks after Thorne leaves the room. “And he was eating you up with his eyes. I need a cigarette after all that.”

“You don’t even smoke,” I hiss, hoping the bear shifter doesn’t hear her. “And I don’t have the time or energy to take on a relationship right now.”

“I don’t think that matters to Mr. Hot and Heavy.” She signals with her head toward the kitchen.

“You’re imagining things.” I know the words are lies as they leave my lips.

A little while later, he comes back and gives me an estimate that is way the heck too low for the amount of work we have to do. “Are you sure this is accurate?” I stare down at the sheet of paper in awe.

“I’ve included the new resident discount.” He winks at me and turns my insides to goo. “I’m going to do it all myself since my crews are on other jobs.”

My shameful, hussy, virgin body wakes up at the thought of him doing it to me. Oh, man. I need a cold shower and a good swift kick in the rear. There’s no way I’m correctly reading the signals that the smoking hot bear shifter is sending out, right?

Thorne starts working the next day, and we start to see immediate progress in the building while my feelings for the bear shifter steadily develop. The longer I’m near him, the more I feel a connection growing between us which I know is nuts, but I can’t resist it.

Of course, both Cora and Bethany take every possible opportunity to throw Thorne and me together.

I glance up from the wall I’m painting to find Thorne staring at me again. “Mr. Hot and Heavy is looking mighty hungry.” Cora walks up and smirks. “You should give him something to snack on.”When my youngest sister wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, I roll my eyes.

This is the third day in a row that Thorne has shown up early in the morning to work all day long at the bakery, and we’re starting to see significant changes. He’s fixed or replaced all the light fixtures and stripped and refinished the black and white tile floor. Today, we’re painting the walls while he puts up new trim.

“Mom and Dad would have strokes if they heard their youngest little angel speaking that way,” I grumble.

“Changing the subject won’t help,” Cora calls over her shoulder as she heads to the kitchen to continue painting.

I’m in so much trouble here, and everyone already knows it. Once my heart overruled my cautious nature, all bets were off.

Every night, I head upstairs to our apartment above the bakery and expect to drop instantly to sleep, but my mind has other ideas. Even a cold shower and warm milk are failing to help me sleep more than a few hours each night. Instead, I lie awake staring at the ceiling while steamy fantasies run through my mind.

Between the busy days and sleepless nights, I’m becoming a little grouchy. I keep telling myself this will all improve once the bakery opens, but I’m not so sure. I’m scared that not seeing my hot bear shifter every day might hurt worse than the hard work we’ve been doing.

“I’m freaking done.” I drop my paintbrush into the sink and look over at Thorne. “My back is aching.”

Hunger fills his dark brown eyes briefly before he blinks it away and walks over to me. “Are you okay?” Lines of worry crease the space between his eyes.

“I’m fine.” I attempt to smile but it’s a lost cause. “Just exhausted.” I really need to get away from him before my inner hussy escapes and jumps his bones. My body might be inexperienced in reality, but I’ve jumped him hundreds of times in my overactive imagination. If the real Thorne is anything like his dream version, my girly parts would get quite a workout. Not that I plan to find out anytime soon. My pessimistic side pipes up and ruins my fantasy thoughts.

“I’ll walk you up to your door, then I’ll come back and finish this wall. I can clean up your brush when I do mine.” He insists on walking me upstairs every night after we finish, and I’m starting to read a lot into the gesture.

“Thank you.” I can’t turn down the opportunity for some alone time with Thorne, even if it’s only a one-minute walk upstairs. My sisters gave up two hours ago once they finished painting the kitchen walls. “Hopefully, Bethany and Cora showered shortly after returning to the apartment,” I blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind as we slowly walk up the tall metal stairs. “Our ancient hot water heater needs a long time to refill, and I’m tired of cold showers. If I have to take one more frigid shower, I’m going to scream.”

“My house has a great hot water heater.” Thorne rubs in his good fortune. “You can come by and take a long hot shower or bath any time you want.” Oh, man. I almost feel bad for my crabby thoughts. Almost. Confusion cuts through me as I wonder if I should take Thorne up on his sweet offer.

“I might do that,” I answer noncommittally. Before I make any decisions, I need time to see if this strong pull between us lasts past the Honey Buns’ grand opening.