Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Later that night
Kymberlie stared at her phone. Still no notifications. She’d made lasagna today to thank Gabriel for his generosity because he’d mentioned it was his favorite comfort food, and opened a bottle of the red wine he liked.
But he hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted. Hadn’t shown up for the first time in two weeks. The pan of lasagna and bowl of salad sat untouched on her dining table. The fancy candles she’d lit had burned down halfway.
“I’m such an idiot,” she muttered.
Call him. Her wolf stirred restlessly inside her. You hurt his feelings.
I need to give him some space, Kymberlie argued, knowing she was being cowardly. If he wanted to come over, he’d be here.
What if he hates me now? What if I ruined everything by yelling at him today?
He paid for that new hood, her wolf pointed out. It was a courtship gift. He doesn’t hate you. He just needs time after you almost drove him away.
With a sigh, Kymberlie blew out the candles and packed away the food.
Fine, I’ll be seeing him tomorrow. We can talk then.
Later, she ached at his absence from her bed. It was funny how quickly she’d gotten used to having him here every night. Outside, snow was falling. She shivered and burrowed deeper under her comforter, missing his warmth.
It took a long time for her to fall asleep.
∞∞∞
Wednesday, December 17
The next afternoon, Kymberlie stood in the snow-dusted parking lot of The Hair of the Dog, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Ten feet away, Gabriel leaned against his pickup, his gaze fixed on the road as they waited for Tyler to arrive with the new hood for the kitchen.
The silence between them stretched taut as a wire.
When Gabriel had arrived fifteen minutes ago, he’d greeted her with a polite nod.
As if they hadn’t been skin-to-skin just two days before.
As if he hadn’t spent the last two weeks with his face between her legs, driving her crazy with his insanely talented tongue.
“Tyler’s running late,” she said finally, unable to bear another minute of his stony silence.
Gabriel checked his watch. “Only by five minutes. It’s fine.”
Fine. Everything was just fine with him, wasn’t it? His cool detachment made Kymberlie want to snarl.
“Why didn’t you come over for dinner last night?” The question burst from her before she could stop it.
His eyes snapped to hers, a flicker of something—surprise? guilt?—crossing his face before his expression smoothed out again. “I didn’t think you’d want me there after I failed you. Plus, I was busy with, uh, paperwork. The county has new compliance requirements for—”
“Forget it.” Kymberlie turned away, her chest tight. “And I didn’t mean what I said yesterday about you wanting me to fail.”
“Kymber.” His voice softened. “I’m sorry about last night. I should have called.”
She didn’t turn around. “I made lasagna.”
More silence fell between them. Kymberlie watched the snowflakes drift down, settling on the parking lot she’d just spent a couple of hours shoveling. Is it over? I made a complete ass of myself yesterday.
Gabriel cleared his throat. “I wasn’t sure if coming over would be appropriate, given our… professional relationship.”
“Our professional relationship,” she echoed incredulously, finally turning to face him. “Is that what you’re calling it now?”
His jaw tightened. “You know it’s complicated.”
“No, Gabriel. It’s actually pretty simple.” Snow continued to drift down around them, briefly dusting his tousled golden hair before melting.
The sight triggered something reckless in Kymberlie.
She bent down, scooped up a handful of snow, and packed it into a tight ball. Her arm snapped forward with wolf-enhanced speed.
The snowball hit Gabriel squarely in the chest with a satisfying explosion of white powder. His expression of absolute shock was worth whatever dignity she’d sacrificed.
“Did you just—” he began, brushing snow from his jacket.
Kymberlie’s grin was feral. “What are you going to do about it, Mr. Fire Marshal? Write me up for assaulting a county official?”
For a second, she thought she’d miscalculated. Then a slow, predatory smile spread across Gabriel’s face. His eyes turned sabertooth-amber, betraying how close his beast lurked to the surface.
“That would require way too much paperwork,” he said, already bending to gather his own ammunition. “I prefer immediate corrective action.”
His snowball whistled past her ear as she ducked, giggling. The sound startled her. How long had it been since she’d felt like laughing?
Kymberlie ran to the nearest pile of shoveled snow and snatched up more handfuls, pelting him as she backed toward the drifts surrounding the parking lot. Her wolf’s need to run and chase and play rose inside her.
“Catch me if you can,” she challenged.
The familiar pins-and-needles sensation of shifting flowed over her skin as she quickly stripped down and flowed into her other form.
Behind her, she heard Gabriel’s intake of breath, sensed his hesitation. She heard his muttered curse, then the rustle of clothing being hastily removed.
Fur prickled as it sprouted to cover her bare skin. Bones and muscles reshaped themselves as the world transformed around her. Colors became muted, but scents and sounds exploded into vivid life.
When her shift completed, she shook out her pale gray coat and bolted into the deeper snow, feeling gloriously alive.
There she waited for him.
Where Kymberlie’s shift was fluid and quick, Gabriel’s was a slow, painful affair. Bones cracked and reformed, muscles bulged and reshaped, his human form surrendering reluctantly to the predator within. Shapeshifting was never easy for ancient lineages like the sabertooth cats.
When he finally rose to his feet in his cat form, he was just as massive and magnificent as she remembered. His sabertooth form was twice her wolf’s size, a prehistoric apex predator that made her feel tiny and delicate.
Kymberlie yipped a challenge and darted deeper into the snow. Gabriel’s answering roar shook the air as he bounded after her, his powerful limbs carrying him forward in great lunging strides that ate up the distance between them.
She was faster, more agile, dancing through the drifts while he plowed through them with brute strength. Snow flew up around them in glittering clouds as they chased and circled. When he nearly caught her, she twisted away with a wolfish grin, her jaws wide and tongue lolling.
When he finally caught her, they tumbled through a deep drift. His enormous paw hooked her hind leg, sending them both rolling in a tangle of fur and snow. Kymberlie nipped playfully at his ear, and he batted at her gently, careful of his claws and strength.
In their beast forms, the complications of their human relationship fell away.
Here and now, they weren’t the fire marshal and club owner. Just two kindred souls playing in the snow, their beasts recognizing something in each other that their human halves kept trying to deny.
Gabriel nudged his massive head against her side and made a soft rumbling sound. Kymberlie responded by licking his chin and nuzzling his thick, shaggy golden mane. She leaned against him, and he rested his huge head on top of hers.
The tension that had wrapped around them earlier had dissolved, replaced by something warmer, something truer.
Then she heard the distant sound of an approaching truck. Was that Tyler? With her precious stove hood?
Reluctantly, they pulled apart and padded back to the parking lot.
But as Kymberlie picked up the pile of her discarded clothes in her jaws and nosed open the club’s front door, she felt lighter than she had in days. Whatever walls she and Gabriel had tried to build between them, their beasts had just gleefully torn them down again.
∞∞∞
Back inside the club, Kymberlie shifted back to human form, conscious of Gabriel doing the same a few feet away. Her transformation left her breathless, exhilarated, her skin tingling with lingering wild energy as she got dressed.
“Feeling better?” Gabriel asked, his voice rough-edged from the shift. He stood with his back to her, pulling on his jeans with quick, efficient movements.
He really had the nicest ass, round and firm.
“Yeah,” she said, tugging her knitted sweater over her head. “How about you?”
He gave her a long look, his eyes still showing a hint of amber. “That was… unexpected.”
“A good unexpected, I hope.” Kymberlie worked to keep her tone light even as she admired the heavy muscles of his back, and the way his broad shoulders moved as he pulled on his flannel shirt.
“Yeah. I think we both needed that.” The simple admission sent a flush of warmth through her that had nothing to do with the club’s new HVAC system.
For a moment, neither spoke. The only sound in the dining room was the soft hum of the appliances from the kitchen.
Gabriel turned to face her, now mostly dressed except for his unbuttoned shirt. Water glistened in his tawny hair, and a drop traced a slow path down his neck. Kymberlie tracked its journey with her eyes.
“Kymber.” Her name in his mouth was a caress. “About yesterday—”
“I was wrong to say the things I did. I’m sorry,” she said, not wanting to ruin the fragile connection they’d reestablished. “Last night—I made lasagna because I wanted to thank you for saving me with that new ventilation hood. When you didn’t show up, I thought you were mad at me.”
“No. Not mad. Just really sorry that I had to deliver bad news to you. Again.” He took a step toward her. She mirrored his movement, drawn to him as if by gravity.
They stood close enough now that she could feel the heat radiating from his body, and smell the lingering wild musk of his cat form.
Gabriel’s hand rose to brush a strand of damp hair from her cheek, his touch feather-light. “I was afraid you hated me for ruining your business. It killed me to see you crying like that.”
“None of this was your fault,” Kymberlie said, her voice huskier than she intended. “And I don’t think I could ever hate you. You care so much about making my place safe, even if it is, um, inconvenient. And really expensive.”
His eyes darkened, pupils expanding until only a thin ring of golden-green iris remained. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and Kymberlie’s lips parted instinctively. The air between them seemed to thicken, time slowing to a crawl as they leaned toward each other.
Just before their lips met, the front door of the club banged open, bringing with it a gust of cold air and Tyler Swanson’s cheerful voice.
“Sorry I’m late! This beast weighs a ton, but—” Tyler stopped mid-sentence as he took in the scene before him: Kymberlie and Gabriel standing inches apart, both with damp hair and clothes hastily thrown on, twin expressions of frustration on their faces.
“Huh. Am I interrupting a date or a safety inspection?”
Kymberlie jerked back from Gabriel. The heat flooding her cheeks had nothing to do with desire now.
“Why can’t it be both?” she retorted, trying to hide how flustered she was.
To her surprise, Gabriel didn’t retreat into cool professionalism. Instead, his face reddened slightly, but he grinned—a real, genuine smile that transformed his serious features.
“I’ve always been good at multi-tasking,” he said, hastily fastening the last few buttons on his shirt.
Tyler laughed and adjusted his grip on the massive stainless-steel hood he was balancing effortlessly on one shoulder. Kymberlie had always known bear shifters were strong, but the sight still impressed her.
“I bet you are,” Tyler said. “You guys want to help me get this monster installed so that Mr. Fire Marshal here can wrap up his inspection?”
Gabriel immediately moved to help, taking one end of the hood while Kymberlie hurried ahead, moving tables and chairs to clear the path to the kitchen. As they maneuvered through the club, she couldn’t help stealing glances at Gabriel.
Once in the kitchen, Tyler directed their movements with the practiced efficiency of someone who’d installed dozens of such hoods.
“This is a top-of-the-line model,” Tyler commented as they secured the last bolt. “Fire suppression system, proper ventilation—you won’t have any more smoke backing up into the dining area.”
“That was a problem,” Kymberlie admitted. “Especially on busy nights when the grill was crowded with steaks and hamburger patties.”
Gabriel nodded, running his hand along the hood’s edge with an appreciative look. “And this hood is properly sized for your cooking equipment, unlike your old one.”
“So what’s next?” she asked, trying not to sound as anxious as she felt.
“We need to test the hood’s fire suppression system,” Gabriel said. “Make sure it activates properly.”
Kymberlie held her breath as the hiss of pressurized lines filled the kitchen, a sharp, metallic sound that made her pulse pound in alarm. Gabriel and Tyler crouched beneath the new stainless-steel hood, their voices steady and professional as they called out readings and made adjustments.
She waited impatiently, hands clenched and fingernails digging into her palms, trying not to breathe too loudly.
This was it. The final test. If the suppression system didn’t work right, there’d be no second chance, no wedding reception, no Christmas miracle to save The Hair of the Dog.
“Ready?” Gabriel asked Tyler after what seemed like a long time of fiddling around with the hood.
Tyler nodded, and Gabriel pulled the red handle mounted by the kitchen door. The system came alive with a sharp snap and a deep mechanical sigh. Fans cycled, the gas shut off with a clean clunk, and a light above the hood blinked green.
For a breathless second, nobody moved. Then Tyler grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.
Kymberlie didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until Gabriel looked up at her, eyes softening. “Pass. Your club is completely up to code now.”
Relief surged through her, bright and dizzying. She let out a half-sob, half-laugh, and threw her arms around Tyler, thanking him incoherently.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, patting her back. “Family looks out for family, right?”
Then she turned to Gabriel. His arms wrapped around her, strong and sure. For a moment she let herself sink into the solid warmth of his chest as she fought back happy tears.
When she tilted her face up, he was already bending his neck, close enough for their breaths to mingle.
Their kiss was fierce and filled with gratitude and the hope she hadn’t dared to allow herself to feel.
The world narrowed to the space between them and the urgent caress of his lips against hers.
Then her phone rang.