Chapter 8
Gia
Okay.
So.
I’m going on a date.
A real one.
The first one I’ve had in ages.
With a giant, feral, mismatched-eyed Bear Shifter who literally carried me out of a wildfire like some mountain romance novel come to life.
And I absolutely did not pack for this.
When I’d agreed to take this trip to Montana, it was supposed to be spiritual reconnection time.
Re-grounding.
Re-rooting.
Maybe-slightly-flirting-with-Jeremy-Steeler-under-the-pretense-of-professional-development time with the promise of an agreement maybe when I returned.
Jeremy.
Huh.
It’s honestly wild that I’m not even thinking about him anymore.
Not in a “what if” way.
Not in a “possible sexy times” way.
Not even in a “should I feel guilty?” way.
Nope.
Just not thinking about him.
Like not at all.
Ever since Wreck crashed into my life—literally through smoke and fire—my brain has been stuck on exactly one thing.
Holy.
Hot.
Bear.
I shift in line at what was apparently the best burger joint in Ember Hollow, Montana, according to the sign on the wall.
The place was called The Joint, and judging from the photos that also decorated the area behind the bar, it seemed to be a one stop shop for everything. Booze included, with live bands on the weekends.
I was trying not to grin like an idiot while my phone pinged in my hand.
It was Valerie.
Finally.
My sister was the only other person I trusted with this level of chaos.
So, while I waited for my food, I stood there and read her texts gleefully.
Val
You went into a forest fire and came out with a mate????
Gia.
You can’t just drop that in a text and go silent for three hours.
I bit my lower lip, trying not to laugh.
Because yes. Apparently I can.
Valerie was great, and I missed her like mad. We were close as two sisters could be. Which was to be expected since we were barely eighteen months apart in age.
So, yes, I needed to chat.
But I also needed to eat.
My stomach rumbled in anticipation of the meaty goodness I was about to imbibe.
The burger place smelled like delicious grease, and salty fried sin, with a heaping side of testosterone.
It was small, loud, and packed with mountain men who look like they shoot elk and eat a dozen eggs every day for breakfast.
There were exactly two shops in town that sold clothing, and neither of them carried anything past a size ten unless I wanted to dress like a retired librarian or a camo-themed lumberjack.
So there I was.
Starving.
Wearing leggings and a sweater that were cute but not ‘date’ cute.
I glanced at the clock on the wall.
1:32 PM.
And when I returned to my forward facing position, the man in front of me had turned around to stare.
He looked to be middle-aged with a healthy paunch and a receding hairline.
And this shithead had the audacity to look me up and down, one eyebrow raised, in judgement.
Can you believe the nerve of some people?
Oh, I knew that look well.
It was the ‘do you really think you should be eating here’ look, and I was so shocked for a moment, I just stood there.
Then I got angry,
This guy could fuck right off.
I wasn’t a Witch so I couldn’t hex him, but I could glare with the best of them. And I did.
Jerk.
I did not need approval from him or anyone else.
I was a grown ass adult, and I enjoyed a cheeseburger once in a while.
Sue me.
I learned a long time ago that carrying some extra weight meant I would always be on the receiving end of unwanted stares and opinions.
See, the world thought being overweight meant I deserved criticism.
That I needed ‘help’ and ‘advice’ and any scorn was purely my fault.
The jerk finally turned around, and I went back to texting Val and waiting for my order because, in the greater scheme of things, he was unimportant.
I had a date tonight.
And I needed Val’s help to avert a fashion crisis.
My stomach growled again, and before he could look again, I spoke up, “Just keep your eyes straight ahead, pal.”
He squeaked.
And I rolled my eyes.
Okay. First, ignore bully. Then burger. Then panic about wardrobe.
The pickup line inched forward painfully slowly, and some red-faced man in front lost his shit and slammed his hand against the counter.
“Where’s my order? I’ve been standing here twenty minutes for a damn cheeseburger!”
The waitress—late-twenties, maybe early thirties, dark hair pulled into a messy ponytail, exhaustion written into the lines around her eyes—tried to stay calm.
“Sir, I’m sorry. I’m not the chef, but I can check, okay?”
Her gaze keeps flicking to the corner table where a small boy sat coloring quietly.
My heart squeezed immediately.
He was maybe five or six.
Dark curls.
Concentration-tongue sticking out slightly as he colored in what looked like a dinosaur.
The waitress’s aura—human but tinged with stress and maternal protectiveness—spiked every time she looked at him.
She was worried.
Probably about leaving him alone.
And judging by the vibe of the place right then?
Fair.
There were at least half a dozen rougher-looking customers hunched over their plates, boots muddy, voices loud, appetites louder. Nothing overtly threatening.
It was just… a lot.
Too much.
My Dryad powers came with a huge, heaping side of maternal instincts, and they were kicking in without asking permission.
Protect the small things.
Protect the vulnerable.
Always.
I stepped forward before I could overthink it.
I moved around the judgy jerk and the angry man, around the next one who smelled like cheap beer and irritation, and I slid closer to the counter.
The waitress turned to me, eyes already apologetic.
“I’m sorry, miss, it will only be a little while longer—”
“Hey, no worries,” I said quickly, keeping my tone warm and calm. “Look… I can sit with your boy if you want while you check on the kitchen. My name’s Gia. I promise I don’t bite.”
I gave her my best, reassuring smile.
The one that said, I’m not here to judge. I’m here to help.
Her shoulders dropped a fraction.
“I’m Gabby. Would you mind?” she murmured quietly. “Thanks. He isn’t supposed to be here, but school was canceled. Water main break.”
“Of course,” I say.
She led me over to the table.
“Matteo,” she said softly, brushing her fingers through his curls. “This is Gia. She’s gonna sit with you while I go check on the food, okay?”
“Okay, Mommy!”
The sweet little fella beamed at me like I was his new best friend.
Which, honestly, with those cheeks, wasn’t entirely inaccurate.
I mean he was adorable!
So, I slid into the seat across from him.
“Whatcha coloring?” I asked.
“Stegosaurus,” he said very seriously.
“Excellent choice. Spikes are so cool.”
He grinned.
The restaurant noise faded slightly as I focused on him.
Matteo smelled like sunshine, and crayons, and ketchup, and childhood.
His little sneakers tapped lightly against the booth seat.
“You live in Ember Hollow?” he asked bluntly.
“Um, no, I’m just visiting,” I admit. “I’m from New Jersey.”
“Where’s that?”
“Very far away. Lots of pizza and traffic.”
His eyes widen in awe.
Before I can say anything else, the air shifts.
My spine goes stiff.
My magic prickles.
Something powerful just walked into the building.
The scent hit me first.
Smoke.
Pine.
Male.
Bear.
My Bear.
My pulse spiked so hard I would swear Matteo heard it.
Holy shit.
I didn’t even have to look.
But I still did.
I turned my head, and there he was.
Grayson “Wreck” O’Connell filled the doorway like the structure wasn’t built with someone his size in mind.
He was wearing dark jeans and a black henley that stretched across shoulders wide enough to block out the damn sun.
His mismatched eyes found mine instantly.
The second they did?
Everything else in the room just faded.
The air tightened.
The restaurant quieted in a way that had nothing to do with acoustics and everything to do with instinct.
Because this man commanded space without trying.
And apparently, he commanded all the oxygen as well.
My mouth went dry.
Oh.
Oh no.
He smelled even better outside of smoke and panic.
Warmer.
Less ash.
More him.
And underneath it all—desire.
The scent wrapped around me like heat.
Mine.
The word didn’t come from him.
It came from something else. Something between us.
My Dryad magic reacted immediately.
The vines beneath my glamour stirred.
Roots stretched toward him like sunlight.
The boy across from me didn’t notice.
But the grown men at the counter noticed them immediately.
Not just Wreck.
The other two males with him, too.
The entire atmosphere inside the diner shifted the second the three of them walked through the door.
Conversations lowered.
Shoulders straightened.
One guy near the register actually stepped back a little like instinct warned him to move before his brain caught up.
I understood why.
The men looked dangerous.
Not in a polished-city-guy way.
In a wild-animal way.
Wreck stood in the center of them naturally, huge and broad and impossible not to notice, but the other two radiated danger too.
One had sharp blue eyes and dark blond hair that was shaved on both sides and long on top, while the other looked leaner somehow despite being just as muscular, golden-brown skin stretched over powerful arms covered in tattoos that looked almost scaled beneath the dim diner lights.
And all three of them smelled like smoke, forest, and something else.
Something undeniably male.
My stomach flipped hard.
Valerie was going to absolutely lose her mind when I told her about this.
Wreck’s gaze flicked first to Matteo.
Then to the waitress hurrying from the kitchen.
Then back to me.
He didn’t smile.
Didn’t wave.
He just walked toward me with that slow, deliberate stride that made it seem like he knew exactly where he belonged.
Which right then?
Appeared to be wherever I was.
The other two followed a few steps behind him, though it was obvious even to me that neither of them was the one pulling all the attention in the room.
That was Wreck.
Completely.