Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 17637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 88(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 88(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
In a matter of minutes, Gabe has me bundled up and ushered out the door, all while Esther reassures me with a wave. “Don’t worry about a thing, dear. You’re in good hands.”
With Gabe steering me to his truck, the cold air hits my cheeks, making the burn on my hand tingle more. “Honestly, you two are worse than a couple of mother hens,” I grumble, though deep down, it’s nice to be fussed over once in a while.
Gabe just laughs, starting the engine with a rumble. “And you’re as stubborn as a grizzly in spring. Let’s get you checked out before you try to wrestle that coffee machine again.”
Chapter 2
Sawyer
It's just past noon, and I’m finally sitting down for my first real break of the day in the Glacier Falls Medical Center break room. A rare moment of calm in this whirlwind of a place, and I’m savoring every bit of it. The porcelain mug I’m holding contains weak hospital coffee, a pathetic substitute for the double espresso I desperately need, but it’ll have to do.
Moving to this small shifter town was supposed to be about peace and quiet—a break from the chaos of the city, a chance to settle into a rhythm where my bear could relax. The irony, of course, is that since I hit the ground here, it’s been anything but tranquil. Most bear shifters are insanely healthy, but this small fucking town has more than its fair share of accidents which keeps the Emergency Department hopping. Fucking hell, would it kill the universe to give me thirty minutes to enjoy a sandwich?
Just then, Christina, an efficient nurse with a no-nonsense attitude that I suspect hides a wicked sense of humor, bursts through the door. “Dr. Silva,” she announces, “we’ve got a fresh burn patient in Room 2. Coffee machine explosion. You’re up.”
I blink, the lukewarm coffee momentarily forgotten. “Coffee machine explosion? That’s a first,” I say, pushing away the Tupperware containing what was supposed to be my lunch.
Christina shrugs, her eyes twinkling with a sort of amused sympathy. “Welcome to small-town drama. It’s just a minor burn, but you know the drill.”
I stand up, shrugging on my white coat, which never quite fits right over my broad shoulders. The grizzly bear part of me often grumbles about how human attire never takes into account the height and muscle mass of a shifter. But professionalism is key, and slightly snug white coats come with the territory.
“Right,” I say, grabbing my stethoscope and following her out into the labyrinthine hallways of the medical center. “Let’s see what this coffee kerfuffle is all about.”
We navigate through a smattering of patients and staff; the hospital smells like a mix of antiseptic and faint kitchen odors. Before heading to the room, I stop at my computer and quickly scan my new patient’s chart--Gianna Bearly, twenty-nine, grizzly shifter, completely healthy—sounds like this will be a pretty routine case.
Christina follows me to the room to assist. When I push the door open, I get the fucking shock of my life. My inner bear stretches and roars, “Mine,” while the human side of my brain tries to catch up.
She’s cradling her hand, looking equal parts annoyed and adorably flustered, with a mop of curly, ice-blonde hair that suggests she either just rolled out of bed or fought valiantly with the aforementioned coffee machine.
My inner bear is ready to fight the motherfucking asshole sitting across the room staring at us until I get a good whiff of his smell and realize he’s related to my mate. Since he’s too young to be her father and looks way too much like her to be a distant relative, I’m guessing he’s her brother.
“Hi there,” I say, putting on my best reassuring smile as I approach her, knowing any shot at peace and quiet for me just came to a halt. “I’m Dr. Sawyer Silva. Let’s take a look at that hand.”
She glances up, eyes a bright, mischievous mocha brown. Her sweet grizzly scent wraps around me, sending my usual clinical focus flying right out the window. “Hi, Dr. Silva.”
Even her low, smoky voice is fucking perfect. I rub the back of my neck and walk over to her. “How did this happen?” My inner bear roars with rage at the sight of her red, irritated skin.
“Bertha, my overenthusiastic espresso machine, decided to rebel at life.” Her stunned eyes meet mine, and I realize she’s sensing the same fucking thing my inner bear knows. Goddamn shifter noses. I’m betting Christina and my new mate’s older brother know exactly what’s going on, too.
Pulling my head from my ass, I force myself into work mode. “Bertha, huh? Maybe she’s rebelling from that name.”
I feel her sweet laughter all the way to my soul. “I’ve never thought of it that way. When I bought Rise and Grind, Bertha came with the business, already named.” I’ve driven by the small coffee shop plenty of times, but I’ve never had the chance to stop. Now, it looks like I’m going to be indulging in plenty of double espressos in the future.