Chapter 7
OLLIE
I didn't know how to tell Blake he was my mate, but telling him nothing felt even worse. My bear confirmed it when I shifted. He couldn't stop saying, "Mate, mate, mate," even when we wandered into the woods, following the scent of other bear shifters.
Finding the other bears had been fun. A grizzly named Maddie lived in a cabin not far from the lodge. She introduced me to two black bears, Ian and Kleah. They were locals, but Maddie said she would introduce me to the bears staying at the lodge, if I wanted.
"You never know where you'll find your mate," she teased.
"I think I already have."
She couldn't believe my wild story of sitting next to the grumpy asshole on the plane, discovering we shared a cabin, and then having my bear declare him my mate.
"Speaking of which, I need to get back," I told her. "I need a shower, and then we're going grocery shopping."
I'd shifted to speak to her. When I shifted back, my bear was furious we'd left Blake alone so long.
I'd found him sitting on the loveseat, listless after his shower. At first, I wondered if he'd found alcohol hidden in one of the cabinets, or if I'd given him enough time to run to the lodge and buy a bottle.
One sniff gave me more information. He smelled scared, not drunk. When he hesitated before accepting my offer to pay for a ride share into town for breakfast, I knew he was afraid of me.
Our conversation at the diner went well enough. He was right to be afraid of bears, but I was a bear shifter, and he was my mate. I'd never knowingly hurt him.
I stopped short of telling him he was my mate, though. On the day he discovered that not all people who looked like him were human, that would probably freak him out completely.
Blake immediately blamed himself for my silence, but it wasn't his fault.
I hated the way he wrote himself off, like he wasn't worthy of love.
He'd already berated himself three times about his behavior on the plane.
When animals made a mistake, they shouldered the blame only once.
When humans erred, they blamed themselves repeatedly.
I was grateful for my bear for so many reasons.
He kept me sane when my human brain got too overwhelmed with society's false expectations.
All bears wanted to do was eat, sleep, and fuck.
Since I wouldn't be fucking anyone until my mate understood what he meant to me, I had plenty of eating and sleeping to do while on vacation.
The waffles had just the right amount of crunch. Even with all the syrup I poured on them, they weren't soggy. It helped that I ate them so fast, before Blake had cleared half of his plate.
He split the second half of his waffle into quarters and pointed to the one with the square of butter on it. "Do you want more?"
"Only if you don't."
He slid it from his plate to mine with the side of his knife.
I nodded out the window to a store sign that had just lit up. "The general store should have notebooks."
"All I really need is tape to stick the first page to the cover," he said. "But thank you. I appreciate your offer to buy me a new notebook."
"Who said I would buy only one?"
He frowned at me.
"If they have a notebook you like, we're getting it, even if you buy out their entire stock."
"I doubt that," he said. "I'm picky about notebooks."
He seemed to be picky about everything. Instead of syrup, he spread jam packets into his waffle craters. Then, he carefully cut around the squares and speared them with his fork, hoisting them into his mouth. How did he make eating waffles look so sexy?
Nope. Not thinking about Blake and sex, not even when he bent over our table to leave a cash tip after breaking a hundred-dollar bill at the register, or when he smiled and laughed with a hunched woman in an orange overcoat and flowery headscarf while helping her cross the street at the crosswalk.
She also wanted to shop at the general store, so he held the door open for her.
So far, I'd seen no resurgence of his behavior from the plane. With every kind deed, it was easy to believe yesterday had been a bad day. Blake could have been playing me, but my bear didn't think so.
Inside, the general store looked like every quaint tourist shop I'd ever browsed.
By the door, a rack of postcards for Pinevale tilted precariously toward the aisle.
Shelves of knickknacks lined the walls, and rustic sign boards hung from the ceiling by chains, announcing the different areas.
I pointed Blake toward "Cards and Stationery" to start.
Along the way, we passed the Christmas section. I'd never seen so many handmade decorations in one place before. Some were hideous, while others had a sort of small-town charm. In the next aisle, they had the typical artificial trees and string lights found in any big box store.
The stationery aisle looked picked over by comparison. The shelves for Christmas cards held only two sets, one with a cartoon reindeer on the front and the other with a white star on a black background. By the time I perused the shelves, Blake had already picked out three notebooks.
"This one deserves to burn," he said. "I figured we could use it as a fire starter." It was a simple list format with fuzzy monsters in the corners and one that looked like it was eating the middle of the page.
"Too much ink on the paper," I said. "Good idea, though. I'll ask if they have any unbleached paper towels. Those are what we use back home."
"You have a fireplace?"
"My parents do. Don't get me started on cleaning their fucking chimney during a blizzard.
" They hadn't started a fire all autumn that year, but the moment it snowed on Christmas Eve, Mom wanted a cheery blaze in the fireplace.
I'd tried to stay on the ladder to avoid their sickeningly steep roof, but I'd had to brace my foot on the overhang to get the wire brush out without clogging the chimney with snow.
Almost lost my balance. I shivered at the memory.
"If we clog this chimney, we're calling maintenance." I laughed when I remembered the person most likely to show up. "Probably Branson." He was the only staff I'd seen so far, though I doubted he'd delivered our room service.
"On second thought, I'll just cuddle up next to you, since you're a living furnace." Blake grinned, and my bear preened. He loved that idea.
"Almost forgot," he said. "I need pajamas, but first, I'll grab some tape." He pointed to the next aisle over.
"You still haven't shown me your notebooks."
A ruddy tinge colored his cheeks. "You don't need to buy me a notebook. If you won't let me burn this one, I don't need any of them."
He still had two tucked to his chest. I held my hand out and wiggled my fingers. After a heartbeat, he passed them to me. "The small gray one is for daily to-do lists. The larger one is for journaling. I can buy one."
The larger one had a sparkling purple cover. It reminded me of his shiny blue suit.
"Merry Christmas." I tucked them to my chest.
His eyebrows scrunched together. "I didn't get you anything."
Instead of reminding him we'd just met, I said, "There's still time."
His frown deepened to a scowl. "You find the paper towels. I'll look for pajamas and meet you outside."
I liked his take-charge attitude, even when he glared like he wanted to murder me. "See you then."
Paper towels could be anywhere. Instead of wasting time looking for them, I asked the young woman behind the counter where I could find some. She pulled a roll off the shelf behind her and handed it to me. "Are you ready to check out?"
I nodded and handed her the two notebooks. With everything paid for and in a plain paper bag I also could use to start a fire, I made my way outside.
Through the store's large front window, I watched as Blake made his way to the counter. He handed the clerk some gray sweats, a roll of tape with a separate dispenser, and a tiny figurine made of glass. It was so small, I couldn't tell what it was.
With his items in another paper bag, he met me outside. "Sorry I was so harsh in there."
"Not harsh. Bossy. I liked it." I hoped that wasn't too much information. I enjoyed being told what to do in the bedroom sometimes, and Blake was my mate. So far, all his bossy outbursts had done was convince me we would be compatible in bed.
"The grocery store is a few blocks this way. Do you mind walking?"
"Not at all." I enjoyed having Blake by my side, though I wished he had a warmer coat than the little windbreaker he wore over his sweater. "Where's your coat?"
"I left it at the office." He sighed. "Like I said, bad day."
"Do you mind if I …" I held out my arm, and he side-stepped closer until he huddled against my side. Even through my thick winter coat, I vibrated with his shivers.
"Thank you," he said. "I'm not usually this needy and incapable, I swear."
"You're not," I said. "There's nothing wrong with forgetting a few essentials before a big vacation. It's annoying, sure, but it's not a deal breaker on whether we can be mate—friends."
"I suppose not," he said, either missing or ignoring my accidental slip. "You might change your mind when I pick out groceries."
"I don't mind vegan cuisine." My youngest brother's spouse was vegan. Whenever we ate together, I tried the dishes my mom made for him, and they were delicious.
"Being vegan is only part of it," he said. "I'm allergic to maple syrup and honey." The last word was mumbled into my armpit.
I leaned toward him, with my mouth close to his ear. "This might surprise you, but I don't really like honey."
His cheeks darkened a shade. "Are you saying my favorite children's books lied to me?"
I laughed. "My family loves honey and claims I'm making a huge mistake when I pass on the stuff. It's too sticky for me. I like sweet that doesn't stick to the roof of my mouth."
The swish of an automatic door said we'd arrived at our destination.
I followed Blake inside and grabbed a cart.
Together, we filled it with healthier food than I normally ate.
I reached for a bag of potato chips, but Blake insisted his kale chips would make me forget all about them.
He also promised his chocolate chip cookies would taste even better with applesauce than they did with eggs.
I could eat a whole half-gallon container of applesauce in one sitting, but I was still skeptical.
Only Blake could talk me into trying such strange food.
My bear was already smitten with my human mate. I had a feeling I wouldn't be far behind.