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)
There she is, behind the counter, radiant as ever. I saunter over, willing my heart to beat a little calmer, despite the rabid cheerleading routine my bear’s performing inside.
“Morning, Sawyer,” she greets me, that familiar twinkle in her eyes as if she senses what my bear and I are up to. There’s a knowing energy there, a chemistry that’s been mounting, undeniable as gravity.
“Morning, hot stuff,” I reply, giving her my usual wink and grin combo that I’ve been practicing solely for her benefit.
As she prepares my double espresso, I run through potential dinner invites in my mind, rehearsing the best way to convincingly suggest a date. Meanwhile, I’m fully aware of her brothers, comfortably situated like sentinels at their customary table. Each one of them is sipping on their drinks, pretending they’re not hyper-focused on the potential romantic showdown about to unfold.
When she passes me my cup, I gather my courage, channeling both my social bearings and my bear’s persistent ‘Go get her!’ mentality. “So, Gianna, would you have dinner with me tonight? I have a new recipe I want to cook for you.”
Before I can finish, the three stooges spring into action, planting their elbows on the table for dramatic flair. Gabe pulls out his sign, an ostentatious ‘nine’ lifted high over his head without hesitation. Grant follows close behind, guaranteeing his own nine is prominently displayed. Finally, Dillon completes their synchronized antics, holding up his own nine with a proud nod and thumbs up.
Gianna watches this unfold, folding her arms but not hiding her amusement. “Looks like you found a way to get those scores up, Sawyer.”
I let out a laugh, attempting to ignore the way my bear is thundering in my head as if it’s performing the bear version of the worm. I nod toward the committee of three. “Yay me.” I roll my eyes dramatically.
Her smile broadens, an increment of brightness that could thaw the iciest Glacier Pass morning. “I’d love to have dinner with you.”
“Great,” I say, my grin faintly turning victorious. “Can I pick you up after the shop closes?”
“I actually get off at noon today.” She glances over my shoulder to give one of her brothers a glare. “And I have a bunch of errands to run. I’ll drive myself over to your house when I’m done.”
“Sounds great.” My inner bear urges me to argue but I resist his intrusion. Giving my mate a bright smile, I hold out my hand. “If you give me your phone, I’ll type in my address.”
Gianna nods and hands over her cellphone. “What time do you want me?”
Any fucking time. “Does six work for you?”
“I’ll be there.” I’m tempted to hop over the fucking counter and pull her into my arms, but I fight the urge and smile back at her.
“I’ll be waiting.” Impatiently.
I’m knee-deep in the trenches, cleaning my cabin. It should’ve been an easy chore, but tidying up a dwelling where a grizzly man lives alone can be tricky. So far, I’ve cleaned the crumbs from quick meals scarfed down amid late-night exhaustion, found all the mismatched socks strewn into forgotten corners, and vacuumed up the expansive dust bunny population.
Having slogged through dirt and disarray, ensconced by my playlist du jour—today, a jaunty mix of indie and folksy vibes—I find myself in the kitchen, apron-clad and facing the intimidating task of cooking for my mate.
I’m halfway through cutting up veggies for a salad when an unknown number lights up my phone.
For a moment, I consider ignoring it, but my inner grizzly’s curiosity wins out. I put down the wooden spoon and grab my phone, swiping up.
“Hello?” I say, my voice a growly mix of inquiry and impatience.
“Hey, Sawyer.” The voice on the other end belongs to none other than Dillon Bearly, Gianna’s brother. His tone has that mischievous twang I’ve recently become accustomed to during my daily stops at the coffee shop.
“Dillon,” I reply, caution lacing my greeting. “What’s up?”
“I’m trying to help your ass out since it took you a whole week to ask her out for a date. I figured you might need all the help you can get,” he says, his laughter crackling through the line like firewood. My inner grizzly bear nods his head in agreement with the other bear.
I grumble to myself. There are no secrets in Glacier Pass, a fact that’s becoming increasingly clear. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I retort, but I can’t help the amused twinge in my voice. “Let me guess, that includes unsolicited advice?”
“Consider it intel,” Dillon counters smoothly. “Gianna loves the molten chocolate cake our cousin’s wife sells at Honey Buns II. If you want to knock this date out of the park, one of those bad boys might just be the trick.”
I pause, processing this tidbit of information, realizing I’m going to owe him one. “I appreciate it, Dillon.”