Chapter Ten – Kirk
Home. Kirk’s bear sighed happily as his cabin came into view.
Home. Kirk smiled as he watched Percy show Isla one of the berries he’d picked before popping it in his mouth. With them here, it feels more like home than ever before.
They belong here, his bear insisted. Look how natural they seem, even after just one day.
It’s too soon for thinking like that, Kirk reminded his bear, though he couldn’t help the hope rising in him.
It’s never too soon when it’s right, his bear countered stubbornly.
As they reached the door, Percy held up his basket triumphantly. “Time for a feast!”
“I think you’ve already had one,” Kirk said, unable to keep from smiling at the boy’s berry-stained face. He stepped around Percy and opened the front door. “In you go.”
“Thank you,” Isla murmured as she passed him, close enough that he caught the clean scent of forest air in her hair.
Smell that? his bear sighed dreamily. That’s what happiness smells like.
You’re getting poetic in your old age, Kirk teased.
Old?! his bear huffed indignantly. We’re in our prime! Strong enough to protect our mate and her cub, wise enough to appreciate them.
Kirk couldn’t argue with that logic as he followed them into the kitchen. The room felt different with them in it—warmer somehow, less empty. Percy carefully set his basket on the kitchen table while Isla placed hers beside it and looked around.
She’s assessing your kitchen, his bear observed. Professional habit, probably.
Kirk moved toward the counter, sweeping it clear of his morning coffee mug and a few scattered papers. “Let’s see what treasures we’ve got,” he said, beginning to unload the baskets.
He spread their foraged bounty across the clean wooden surface: wild thyme still fragrant from the forest, sprigs of mint with their sharp, clean scent, handfuls of purple berries, golden chanterelles with their delicate gills, and the carefully harvested nettles.
“Wow,” Percy breathed, standing on tiptoe to see everything. “We found all that!”
“We sure did,” Kirk confirmed, feeling a surge of pride at the boy’s excitement. “Now we get to turn it into something delicious.”
“Can I help?” Percy asked with enthusiasm.
Kirk glanced at Isla, silently seeking her permission. When she nodded, he smiled at Percy. “Absolutely. Every chef needs a good assistant.”
Look at us, playing happy families, his bear said smugly. We’re naturals.
We haven’t cooked anything yet. This could all still go disastrously wrong, Kirk reminded him, though he couldn’t suppress a smile.
“How about you start by rinsing these herbs?” Kirk suggested setting a small step stool by the sink for Percy to stand on. “Just gentle swishes in the water.”
“Like this?” Percy asked seriously, climbing onto the stool and accepting the bundle of herbs Kirk handed him.
“Just like that,” Kirk replied.
Then he turned his attention to Isla, who was examining his knife block, her fingers hovering over the handles with professional consideration. Without a word, he reached past her and selected the chef’s knife he thought she might prefer. It was well-balanced, sharp, and had a comfortable grip.
“This one’s my favorite,” he said, offering it to her handle-first.
She took it, testing its weight in her palm, then nodded appreciatively. “Good choice.”
She knows her way around a kitchen, his bear observed.
Of course she does, Kirk replied. He was beginning to suspect his mate could do just about anything she chose.
Isla moved to the counter and sorted through the chanterelles. Kirk watched as she selected a mushroom, brushed away a bit of forest debris, and began to slice it with precise, confident strokes.
There was something almost meditative in her expression, as though the simple act of cooking had carried her somewhere familiar and long forgotten.
Don’t just stand there staring, his bear chided. Help her!
Kirk shook himself from his reverie and moved around the kitchen, pulling out pans and bowls, turning on the hob, and gathering the other ingredients they might need: olive oil, butter, salt, and pepper.
He placed everything within Isla’s reach without interrupting her rhythm, anticipating what she might need next.
“Mom’s fantastic at chopping,” Percy informed Kirk as he carefully rinsed the mint. “She always wanted to be a chef.”
Kirk nodded. “She sure has the knack for it.”
A faint blush colored her cheeks. “A lifetime ago,” she murmured, not looking up from her work. “But life had other plans.”
She’s being modest, his bear said. Look at her technique.
“Then you must have good muscle memory,” Kirk said, watching her perfectly uniform slices.
The corner of her mouth twitched upward, though she still didn’t look at him. “Okay, I was decent. But that was before Percy, before... everything changed.”
Kirk sensed there was more to that story, but now wasn’t the time to ask. Instead, he moved to help Percy, who had finished rinsing the herbs and was now looking for his next task.
“How about sorting these berries?” Kirk suggested setting a few small bowls on the table. “Big ones in this bowl, medium in this one, and the little tiny ones in here.”
Percy nodded seriously, accepting his important mission with solemn dedication.
The cub takes after his mother, his bear noted approvingly. Focused, careful.
He’s a good kid, Kirk agreed, watching Percy’s small fingers methodically sort the berries.
The kitchen gradually filled with delicious aromas as they worked—the earthy scent of mushrooms cooking in butter, the bright tang of fresh herbs, the sweet scent of berries warming in a small saucepan.
Kirk prepared the nettle, blanching it quickly to remove the sting before adding it to the pan where Isla was cooking the mushrooms.
She lifted a spoonful to her lips and blew on it before tasting. Her eyes closed for a moment, and a small, surprised sound escaped her.
“Good?” Kirk asked, though her expression told him everything.
“It’s...” She seemed to search for words. “The freshness makes such a difference. You can taste the forest.”
That’s it, his bear said excitedly. That’s what we wanted to see. Our mate tasting what we gathered together.
“Here, try it.” Isla grabbed a clean spoon from the nearby drawer and dipped it into the mixture. She held it out to him, her eyes meeting his. “Your turn to taste.”
Kirk’s heart skipped as he leaned forward. Their faces were so close he could see tiny flecks of gold in her blue-gray eyes. The intensity of the moment hit him all at once.
That’s the most romantic thing that’s ever happened in this kitchen, his bear declared.
It’s just a taste test, Kirk countered, though he couldn’t ignore the awareness humming between them.
He opened his mouth, and she carefully tipped the spoon forward. The flavors bloomed across his tongue.
“It’s good,” he said, savoring the complexity.
Isla’s eyebrow arched playfully. “Do I feel a ‘but’ coming on?”
She reads us too well already, his bear said with delight.
Kirk cracked a grin and said lightly, “Have you forgotten where you are?”
Percy snorted. “Of course she hasn’t.”
Isla chuckled. “I think what Kirk is trying to say is we are in the kitchen of a well-known chili farmer, and we have not added chilies to the dish.”
“I don’t like too spicy, remember,” Percy said, his expression growing cautious.
“How could we forget?” Kirk reached for a small jar on the counter. “Try a pinch of this.”
Isla glanced at the deep red flakes. “How spicy is it?”
“My milder blend,” he said. “Just enough heat to wake the other flavors up.”
She’s going to love it, his bear predicted confidently.
Let’s hope so. Kirk watched as she took the jar from him, their fingers brushing for a moment. By accident or design, he couldn’t tell, but the touch stayed with him.
Her eyes met his for a fleeting moment, then she turned back to the pan, sprinkled in a small amount, stirred, and lifted the spoon to her lips. Kirk found himself holding his breath as she tasted it.
“Perfect,” Isla whispered, her eyes widening slightly.
Kirk’s bear practically preened with satisfaction. She loves it. We’re winning her over one taste at a time.
Not everything is about winning, Kirk replied, though he couldn’t deny he wanted to win Isla’s heart.
His bear snorted. Says the man who spent three years perfecting that particular chili blend.
“Can I try?” Percy asked, apparently over his initial hesitation about spicy food.
“Of course,” Isla said. “We need your seal of approval. Grab a spoon and have a taste.”
Percy darted to the drawer Kirk had opened earlier and retrieved a small spoon. He handed it to his mom with a solemn expression that made Kirk bite back a smile.
Isla dipped the spoon into the fragrant mixture, then blew on it gently, her lips pursing in a way that momentarily distracted Kirk. Then she leaned down and offered the spoon to her son.
The boy studied the spoonful with the gravity of a food critic about to deliver a career-ending verdict.
He leaned forward, lips carefully parting as his mom guided the spoon into his mouth.
Kirk watched the boy’s face shift from surprise to concentration, his eyebrows furrowing as he considered the taste.
After what seemed like the world’s most dramatic taste test, Percy swallowed and nodded firmly.
“It passed,” he declared, straightening his shoulders. “But it’s right on the edge of too spicy.”
Kirk bit back a laugh. The kid had opinions and was not afraid to share them.
“Right on the edge, huh?” Isla asked, her eyes dancing with amusement.
“Yep.” Percy pointed to his tongue. “It’s warm, but not fire-breathing dragon warm.”
Isla bent down and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead. “Thank you for your expert opinion, Mr. Food Critic.”
“I’m just being honest,” Percy replied with such earnestness that Kirk couldn’t help but smile. “Honesty is important in the kitchen. You always say that.”
“That I do,” Isla agreed, ruffling his hair affectionately.
Kirk chuckled as he watched them. Their easy back-and-forth reminded him of the times he and his brothers had spent in the kitchen while their father cooked.
His bear rumbled contentedly but, for once, had nothing to add. Some moments didn’t need commentary.
Isla continued to taste and adjust, adding a pinch of salt here, a sprig of thyme there. She moved through his kitchen with increasing confidence, no longer hesitating before opening drawers or reaching for utensils.
“Mom, look!” Percy called from the table where he’d arranged his sorted berries into a smiley face pattern. “Berry art!”
Isla laughed, and the sound hit him somewhere deep. “Very creative! Maybe we should serve them just like that.”
“I think we should,” Kirk agreed solemnly. “Food should always make you smile.”
Smooth, his bear approved. Very smooth.
I wasn’t trying to be smooth, Kirk protested.
Sure, you weren’t, his bear teased. You’re just naturally charming.
Or our mate just gets me, Kirk replied.
Percy beamed with pride, carefully transferring his berry creation to a serving plate Kirk handed him. “Can I carry this to the table?”
“Absolutely,” Kirk said, clearing a path for the boy. “That’s the most important job of all.”
Isla gave Kirk a grateful look over Percy’s head, and he understood. She appreciated the way he made her son feel included. It was a small thing to him, natural and instinctive, but it clearly mattered to her.
She’s not used to men being kind to her cub, his bear growled softly. Someone hurt them both.
The thought made a protective fury rise in Kirk’s chest, but he pushed it down. Now wasn’t the time. This moment was about joy, nothing more.
Together, they finished preparing a simple meal of wild mushrooms with herbs and nettles, served over the rice Kirk had quickly cooked, with Percy’s berry creation as a colorful dessert. Kirk poured water for Percy and offered Isla wine, which she accepted with a smile.
“To forest treasures,” Kirk said, raising his glass.
“To forest treasures,” Isla echoed, clinking her glass against his.
“And to berry art!” Percy added, raising his water glass high.
They laughed together as they settled around the table, the afternoon sun slanting golden through the windows. Percy immediately launched into an enthusiastic recounting of everything they’d found in the forest, his hands gesturing expressively as he described each discovery.
“And remember when Kirk showed me how to pick the nettle without getting stung? That was so cool! And the mushrooms that looked like little umbrellas? And the stream with the tiny fish?”
Isla smiled at her son’s excitement, occasionally meeting Kirk’s eyes over the table with a look that seemed to say, See what you’ve done?
We did that, his bear said proudly. We made them both happy today.
It’s a good feeling, Kirk admitted.
The meal stretched longer than Kirk had expected, none of them seeming eager to end it.
The conversation flowed easily, from Percy’s dinosaurs to Kirk’s chilies to Isla’s early days in culinary school.
The shadows lengthened across the floor as afternoon gave way to early evening, and only when Percy’s enthusiastic chatter began to slow did Kirk realize how much time had passed.
“And then...” Percy’s sentence trailed off as he suppressed a yawn. “And then we found the strawberries...”
Isla gave Kirk an apologetic look. “Someone’s running out of steam.”
“No, I’m not,” Percy protested, though his eyelids were drooping. “I’m just... resting my eyes.”
“Why don’t you lie down on the sofa and rest? Just for a bit while we clean up,” Kirk suggested, recognizing the signs of a child fighting sleep.
Percy considered this compromise with all the seriousness of a judge weighing evidence. Finally, he nodded. “Okay, but just for a little bit.”
Kirk led him to the sofa in the adjacent living room, where Percy curled up without further protest. Within minutes, his breathing had deepened into the unmistakable rhythm of sleep.
Trusting us enough to fall asleep here, his bear noted. That matters.
Kirk returned to the kitchen, where Isla was already gathering plates. “He’s out,” he said quietly.
She smiled, a tender expression crossing her face. “Too much excitement. He’ll sleep well tonight.”
They worked together clearing the table, settling into a comfortable rhythm without needing to speak. Kirk washed while Isla dried, their movements synchronized as if they’d done this a hundred times before.
And we’ll do it a hundred, no, a thousand times more, his bear said.
Kirk glanced toward the living room, where Percy slept peacefully on the sofa.
Then he looked back at Isla, standing beside him at the sink.
For the rest of our lives, Kirk said. Now he just had to work out how to make that happen.