Chapter 4
Elliott runs an errand.
On Saturday, Elliott woke and stretched with a double roar: his bear’s was frustrated, emanating from deep in his chest; his was the sleepy sort, the groan of a man who wanted to head back to dreaming where he’d been having the best time.
His creative mind was impressive, tossing him multiple alternative scenarios for how meeting Fern could have gone better. In one, he invited her in for dinner, made a delightful bolognaise, then fucked her on the dining room table.
Twitching, his cock made itself known, and he grabbed for it.
In another dream, he’d demanded she get out of the car and give him a hug for a proper first meeting.
Even sleep-him wanted to override Adam’s scent clinging to her suntanned ivory skin.
A hug with dream-Fern turned into a kiss, which turned into him clawing off her little shorts and tossing her on the roof of her car to devour her right there at the end of his driveway.
Groaning, Elliott tightened his grip, twisting and squeezing the head of his cock as he imagined his thoughts were reality.
In yet another dream, he let his bear take over after smelling her delicious aroma. Only, his bear bit her, kickstarting the bonding phase of the mating process. Then of course, she climbed his body like a tree and jumped his bones (after he’d shifted back).
With a soft moan and a shudder, he brought himself to completion, wishing a hookup with Fern was the most advisable option.
It definitely wasn’t.
Rolling from bed, Elliott shuffled into the bathroom, stared at himself in the mirror, and groaned.
He was a mess. Looking more bear than man, his snarled hair hung well past his shoulders, and his beard could do with a trim.
Not to mention his eyes, they had that glow that only started up when his animal was close to the surface.
With a snort, his grizzly reaffirmed that he was right there, just behind Elliott’s ribcage, scrabbling to get out, ready to find Fern.
“Yes, we’ll go to her today. We’ve got a plan, remember?” Mumbling to himself, but really to his bear, Elliott wandered off in search of his phone.
He had eighty-two missed messages. Most were in the enforcer chat, where they were only supposed to discuss pack security. Currently, Olivia and Noa were in a heated debate over what to name the new road when construction wrapped—a hot topic for a town that hadn’t changed in a century.
Clearing out the fight brought him down to seventeen texts. His mom had checked in to ask how his week was. When he hadn’t replied, she’d sent a photo of her with his dad, his sister, her husband, and their two cubs—a clear reminder that they existed.
He shot Mom a quick, “Good,” with a picture from his firing earlier in the week. He’d finished up a number of vases for the first wedding of the season; a pre-season wedding, actually. Olivia and Fern’s friend, Renata, was using the Lodge, and Fitz was handling a portion of the decor, as usual.
He’d also fired a mix of mugs, bowls (not the food kind), and bongs last week—restocking his best sellers.
Local sales were nice, but his online store was where his real money was made.
Elliott swore he was the only reason the Beckett Falls Post Office stayed in business.
Their town was so tiny, they didn’t even have a bank.
Blinking back to the task at hand, he checked the remaining fifteen texts in the friend group chat. Noa was in there, not arguing with Olivia, and instead teaming up with her to demand Elliott bring bread to something. He scrolled up to figure out what was going on.
Liv
Welcome party for Fern, our house, tonight.
Beck
6ish?
Able
I’ll be there. What can I bring?
Beck
Bring beer
Noa
Can I bring beer too?
I’m coming btw
Liv
No one needs to bring anything. I mean you can
But you don’t have to
Noa
Fitz should bring bread though
Liv
Yes. Elliott, bread please?
Noa
At least two loaves
Liv
Three
Beck
I don’t think he’s awake yet
Noa
It’s eleven
Able
And?
Elliott
I’m up
Noa
Bread?
Liv
Bread?
Beck
Are you even coming to the party?
Elliott
Yeah
I’ll bring bread
Excited for dinner at Northop House, he tossed his phone on the bed and swung into his closet to pick out an outfit for the day and another for the party.
Elliott froze in the doorway. What the fuck? He was never excited to go socialize. It had to be the weather. He’d had potential mates before. It wasn’t that; it definitely wasn’t Fern.
His bear snorted happily, wiggling his rump and pouncing playfully inside of Fitz. That fool.
Potential mates or not, Elliott had no interest in upheaving his sanctuary, especially not with an ultra-chatty human who didn’t know shit about shifters. He’d go to the party because it was the right thing to do. Not because he wanted to. Because he didn’t want to. He hated socializing.
In Saturday’s first outfit, an old Creedence Clearwater Revival T-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts that had seen better days, he headed into his kitchen to get started on the requested bread.
When four loaves were proofing—three for his friends and one for home—he cleaned his hands enough to check his phone.
Liv
Changed my mind. Bring housewarming gifts for Fern. Her mom’s got her down, and she needs our support
Noa and Able had already liked the message.
What did Fern’s mom do? He wished someone had asked Liv to elaborate on that. Maybe he could find out later. And of course he’d bring a housewarming gift. He wasn’t heartless. The pipe he planned to give her could work, but he’d probably think of something better.
Moving to a new town must have been difficult.
He couldn’t imagine taking that risk. His sister, Danielle, met a potential mate in a different town and left for Poplar Pond some seven years back.
His parents followed five years ago to be near their first grandbaby.
Elliott didn’t fault them for going, and they were only a three-hour drive away, but he had no intention of leaving Beckett Falls.
Like his great-grandmother who was the first potter on Potter’s Lane, and his grandfather after her, he intended to stay put. He’d expanded the enterprise enough by adding the online store. Maybe he’d enclose his home’s screened porch at some point. Other than that, Elliott had no big plans.
Fern, on the other hand, she was brave, bold, a risk-taker, so unlike him it hurt.
Glancing down, he smashed the heart on Liv’s message. Then he panicked and removed the reaction.
Noa sent the eyes emoji.
Able
I saw that too
Elliott
That was a fat finger moment.
Noa
Mhm
Liv
Casual vibes tonight btw. Fern loves a good party, but she’ll be beat from driving around this morning and unpacking all day
Able
Oh yeah, I saw her leave with her U-Haul when I was getting off shift this morning.
His bear growled, and Elliott almost asked Adam how his scent had gotten on Fern—in the group chat, then in a direct text. Both times, he got a fucking grip and deleted the message. She probably just said, “Hello,” and shook his hand or something. Hopefully.
Annoyed by the pendulum of emotions he was picking up on, and the fact it was only twelve-thirty, Elliott’s bear let out a mighty roar that sounded like indigestion to his human ears. God, his beast was antsy.
“Not willing to wait until tonight, dude?”
His bear huffed.
“All right. Fine. We can see if she’s home.”
A ceramic pipe wasn’t a great gift to give her in front of others. What if she was private about smoking? He could definitely come up with something better to give her at the party. And if she really did have to unpack all day... maybe she could use a pick-me-up now.
With his bear encouraging his behavior, Elliott lumbered out to his studio and considered his collection.
He wasn’t sure what Fern’s style was, but he couldn’t go wrong with one of his favorite designs and a best seller, a pipe shaped like a fly agaric with a red-and white-glazed mouthpiece like a mushroom cap.
He almost brought her a bong shaped like a vintage vase, but second-guessed himself. She might not like it.
He had a good plan. He’d toss the pipe and some bud in a bag and swing up to her apartment to drop it off.
His bear growled.
“Lunch. I can bring her lunch, too.” No. Lunch was too much, it was weird. It was overboard.
His bear snorted, headbutting the inside of his ribs.
The weed did need to be hidden somewhere—it was legal but stinky—so lunch plus a pipe was actually a pretty good plan. Not overboard, just right.
Sneaking around Beckett Falls was an impossibility.
Everyone had each other on speed dial. All of the adults were in one big group chat, for fuck’s sake.
If he showed up in the village in the middle of the day without a damn good reason, someone would start asking questions.
Everyone knew Fitz stuck to the valley unless a friend forced him up to town.
Showing up solely to bring Fern a present would start rumors, even amongst the most laid-back members of the pack.
Bruschetta.
He’d go to the grocery store for supplies to make a fresh bruschetta for the party at Northrop. It was the perfect complement to his bread and a valid excuse to head into the village twice in one day.
On the silent drive, Elliott ran through his plan.
First stop: Reads when did she order? Yesterday, when she arrived.
What did she get? It was none of their business; he followed HIPAA.
Did he need to? No. But as someone who valued privacy, Elliott attempted to offer it to others.
He’d appreciate the same in return, thank you very much.
None of that happened.
Before he even turned down Main Street, her music reached him, drifting in through his open car windows.
He knew it was hers because the sound of Jerry Garcia—he was pretty sure—was accompanied by the soft scent of berries and jasmine.
As he passed the bookstore end of Reads she was everything delightful.
A little sweaty from unpacking, a few flyaway strands of her brown hair stuck to her neck and trailed between her breasts.
The rest of her tresses were up in a bun, highlighting her slender neck and the slope of her shoulders.
In a cropped T-shirt that clung to her braless nipples and wide-legged flowy pants, she looked comfortable, perfect, relaxed.
She smelled like Fern and not one ounce of Adam Ableman. Thank fuck. Maybe they’d only shaken hands. They could’ve hugged. What if they’d kissed? He could ask her, maybe he’d ask her.
“Hello?” she asked like she was answering the phone.
Blinking back to reality, Elliott dropped his gaze from the top of her head too far to her breasts, then swung it back up to her face. Her blue eyes sparkled with mirth.
“Hi.”
“What can I do for you, Elliott?”
“I uh—”