I typed back, this time the words flowing more freely. Me too. Maybe we can grab a steak or maybe a drink tomorrow? Have you been to The Fang and Claw?
Again, I watched the stupid phone as if it held magical powers. Maybe Soren was right. Maybe this guy was the one from the airport. It was getting so hard to make it through a day with my bear at bay. Could this guy be the answer? Please let him be the answer.
I’ve been. It’s not far from where I was staying. My bear deflated. If he had been there, I’d have scented him. I just moved here so I have only been there the one time. Dinner sounds fun.
My bear perked up. He just moved here. Maybe I just hadn’t been to the bar since he’d visited. I’d been avoiding anything close to social since my last date there, my bear almost breaking through more than once during my short time at the bar. It was very possible I just missed him.
The new steak place on 10th avenue? Seven?
Seven sounds great.
We chatted back and forth, Soren coming in and tossing the bag of gummy bears at my head.
“Hey!” I picked them up off the floor. “Thanks.”
“For which? The cavities or the date?” He sat on the edge of his desk, peeling open a banana. Healthy jerk.
“Both. He’s a bear.” The relief I felt from that alone was immense.
“Good. When is your date?”
“Who said I had a date?”
“I asked if it was my awesome generosity carrying you a package of candy from three rooms over or your date that had you thanking me and you said both so quit trying to be coy.” He bit off a chunk of his banana. “When is your date?”
“Don’t chew with your mouth full. You’ll end up eighty and single like that.” He gave me side-eye. “Fine. I’m meeting him tomorrow. He’s new in town and a bear. There you go. Everything I know about him.”
“I expect every detail.” He hopped off the desk. “Let’s run. I’m sick of work and I could use some fish.”
“Fine, but if the fishing is bad you owe me steak.” Seemed fair to me.
“Or we order a pizza.”
That worked too.
Five
Gabe
My hands trembled as I attempted to slide buttons through the appropriate button hole.
“Let me do that.” Corey brushed my hands away and deftly buttoned my shirt. We were at my apartment that I finally moved in to, though boxes lined the walls and I was living out of suitcases as none of the clothes had made the journey from case to closet.
He pressed the shirt at the shoulders and stood back to admire his handiwork before twirling his finger. I did a slow 360 turn as he inspected every inch of me and picked off lint from my pants. He nodded approvingly. “Not bad. Thank goodness you listened to me.”
He’d insisted I get new clothes after pulling out crumpled pants and shirts from a pile on the floor, none of which were suitable for a date or my day job. My two work outfits were washed and tumble dried every night at a local laundry, for which I paid far too much.
“Go and have fun.”
I made a face and glanced at my phone, hoping the guy had cancelled. No such luck! He seemed pleasant enough when we’d texted back and forth, but having to meet him in person, my thoughts returned to my safe place. My dream and the scent I was constantly searching for. Though one was more present at night and the other during my waking hours, they shadowed me whether I was in bed, at the office, or at home.
“Hey,” Corey turned my face toward him. “What’s going on?”
I shrugged. “Nervous.”
“I get that. Blind dates are weird. But if you don’t get along with the guy, eat, say your goodbyes, and leave. It’s not as though you’re destined for an arranged marriage with someone you’ve never met.”
“Great. Now I feel so much better.”
“My pleasure,” he warbled.
He’d obviously missed that my voice was laced with sarcasm.
“Shoo, or you’ll be late.” He didn’t move.
“Aren’t you leaving? You do have a home of your own.”
His mouth twitched. It was a nervous habit, and I followed his gaze as he eyed my bare apartment. “Oh, no.”
“I didn’t say a word.”
“You’re planning on making sense of this mess,” I stated.
“And what if I am?” he protested. “It’s not a crime.” He scratched his chest, another sign I recognized. Corey’s Type-A personality got itchy and jittery at my messy self, and on more than one occasion when I’d bought an alpha home during our college years, we’d walked in on Corey dusting my room. Once, he’d hidden under the bed and only emerged after the guy left! So embarrassing!
“You won’t recognize the place by the time you get home.” His eyes lit up and his mouth formed the perfect ‘O’. “I’ll make sure the bed’s made.”
“Stop! There’ll be no bringing anyone here after our first blind date,” I assured him.
When he pushed me out the door and shut it, the lock clicked. Damn, he really wants me to go on this date. I hesitated and asked myself if this was how I wanted to spend my evening. Meeting a stranger through a dating app was Corey’s idea, though I had gone along with it.
Instead, I could sneak off and have a quiet dinner by myself. Or better yet, pop into The Fang and Claw and hope the guy who’d left his scent lingering in the bar would be there.
I hadn’t been back, fearful my experience wouldn’t match that first visit, and I’d be forced to admit my one and only—to borrow a line from Corey—was fiction and the aroma was actually a stale air freshener diffuser shoved in a corner.
My phone beeped. I can see you. Corey was staring at me from the living room window. He was so enthusiastic, perhaps he should go on the date.
As I stood outside the restaurant and studied the neon sign that advertised steak and more steak, the nerves which had caused my hands to shake earlier, threatened to expel the contents of my stomach onto the street. A group heading inside brushed past and one guy bumped my shoulder. A hasty, “Sorry,” and they were gone, swallowed by the large double doors.
I rubbed my neck, wondering if I’d caught Corey’s nervous itching. I can do this. And I strode inside, my eyes scanning the room for my potential date. He’d joked the reservation would be under Mr. B and when I stammered, “B… B… B…”, the maître d’ took pity on me and said, “It’s okay.”
But my nerves vanished and a sense of calm took hold. My heart rate slowed and instead of a ragged gasping for air, my breathing reverted to slow and steady. Is this for real? Tendrils of my dream coiled around me and mingled with the comforting feeling of being wrapped up in a fluffy blanket in front of a fire. It was the sensation of home, family. And love. I’m going crazy, but if I am, I’m talking insane over normality.
The maître d’ led me toward the back of the restaurant, but the tables were obscured by customers and waiters and I couldn’t see my date. But the scent pulled me forward and I fought back tears. Where had they come from and why? I had to restrain myself from shoving the host out of the way and charging forward, my arms outstretched.
There was a line of potted trees in the middle of the room, bookended by a stand with ferns draping gracefully over each shelf, and I craned my neck for a better view. But as we rounded the greenery and I caught site of Mr. B, I sucked in a startled breath, and for a moment, I was paralyzed, unable to move forward or back. He’s gorgeous!
His hands were clasped around a glass of what appeared to be whiskey. His top three buttons were undone—he obviously didn’t have a Corey to assist him—and a tattoo peeked out of the elongated V shape on his chest. I couldn’t make it out, an animal of some kind. Bear!
And just as in my imagination, he was a beast of a man. Tall and muscular with a mop of unkempt hair. Sadly, there was no animal skin over one shoulder and I suspected he was wearing pants.
“You don’t have to do this, you know?” the maître d’ murmured.
But I ignored hi
m and gazed at the man I’d arranged to meet. Destined, not arranged.
He glanced up and our eyes locked on one another. I gulped as his gaze anchored me to the spot, and I croaked the word that had been in my thoughts since I caught sight of him, “Bear!” while he grunted, also with one word, “Human.”
The maître d’ flapped his hands and scurried off.
“What did you just say?” That was both of us, asking the same question.
“Nothing.” Him and me. Together. Again.
He eyed me warily as he sniffed the air and then lifted the glass and downed the whiskey.
I said the first thing that popped into my head. “You don’t own a club do you? The whacking kind.”
“Huh?”
“Ignore me. My overactive imagination.” And a recurring dream.
Six
Brad
“Gabe,” he finally said.
Human. The stumbling, adorable, sexy man was a human.
When he introduced himself as Gabe, I almost corrected him. Not Gabe—mate.
But he was human and saying that would not go over well.
“Brad,” I replied, biting back the word yours, still trying to figure out how he was the one fate sent for me while at the same time wondering how I ever thought it could’ve been anyone else.
Mate.
I couldn’t muck this up. He was human and they didn’t court the way bears did with teeth and knots. They wooed and dated and I wasn’t even sure what. I couldn’t exactly say, “Hey mate...want to get out of here and mark each other and then go for a run?”
He’d think I was crazy. “Been here before?” I asked lamely. Wasn’t that what they always asked in the movies? Yeah. It was a good starter question.
“Nope.” He picked up his menu and started reading it.
Maybe not a good starter question.
“I like it here. They make a good meal.” I pretended to look at the menu also. I needed to up my game. It had taken far too long for me to cross his path again, and while my bear was not happy I was sitting here across from him instead of making him ours, he was far more manageable than he’d been since that day at the airport. I couldn’t fuck this up by being a bad date. I wasn’t sure I’d survive, and not in the melodramatic way either. My bear would do something stupid, something that would get me put down.
“You date a lot?” His eyes snapped back up off of his menu.
“No. Not at all.” That was a good sign. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he didn’t ask because it made him jealous to think I’d been here with another. Maybe he was just feeling out my playa vibes. “I just come here with Soren sometimes is all.”
“And he’s your what?” He looked at me pointedly. If not a date, a what? A friend with benefits?”
“No. He’s my boss.” I set down the menu. I needed another drink or ten.
“Oh. What was it you do again?”
And so I told him about being a lawyer and the contract work I tended to focus on which was hardly exciting, but it paid the bills.
“What do you do?” I finally managed to ask a question that had him chatty. He had such passion for his work, something I never had. It was expected that the future leadership would join the firm. It wasn’t a choice as much as a birthright and I didn’t hate it, but the way Gabe lit up? I didn’t have that. Not even close.
“You don’t want to hear about English Lit.” He leaned back in his chair. “It’s not that exciting to most people.”
“It is to you, though, and that passion has me wanting to hear more and more.” It wasn’t even the tiniest bit of an exaggeration. I did want to hear more. I hated Dickens in high school—loathed it to the point I bought the cheat notes and yet—to hear him talk about it, I wanted to read everything the man had written.
“Really?” he asked, and before I could reassure him, the waiter came over and took our order.
“The waiter thinks you’re hot,” Gabe teased as the man walked away with our order.
“I’m not worried about what he thought.” I was fishing for compliments but fuck it. I had to know how he was feeling. This whole human thing was new to me, and had I not had the conversation with Soren the other day, I probably would’ve been freaked out about it.
Now I was more worried about him liking me than if we could make it work. How human of me.
“Really?” His cheeks pinkened slightly, it was a good look on him.
“Yeah.” I grabbed my water. “Do you like books?” Damn I was lame. Of course he did. He was a freaking English professor. “I mean, not just literature but like—I like mysteries.” There. I salvaged it. Kind of.
“I mean, I guess so.” The waiter saved us, bringing a basket of bread and offering us drinks.
“What do you like to do for fun?” I asked the second the waiter left.
“You really are a lawyer.” He chuckled, grabbing a pat of butter for his roll.
“I’m...yeah. The thing is...I haven’t been on a date I wanted a second of in a long time and I’m trying to be charming.” Or at least semi-interesting and not a complete ass like I had been on the past two stupid app dates.
“I wouldn’t say you were charming, but I want a second date already. You don’t need to try so hard.”
The relief that flooded through me made the rest of the evening so much more enjoyable. Not comfortable due to my stupid hard-on, but enjoyable.
He was nice and funny and sexy as fuck. Fate did right by me, that was for sure.
There was still so much to tell him. It wasn’t like I could exactly hide my bear, and even if I did the whole human thing with rings and grand gestures, it wasn’t as if my bear would settle for that. No, he would want to claim him, and unless my mate was into some real kinky things, he’d be put off by me marring his skin the way I longed to.
But for tonight all was good. He wanted to see me again, the food was delicious, and the conversation so much better after my whole trying to sound like a human fiasco. It was good. Beyond good. It was amazerific.
Until the food was gone and the waiter began his pacing, a not-so-subtle cue for us to leave. And I couldn’t even be mad at him. We were the last people there, the front lights were off, and even with the enormous tip I was about to leave, that was a pain in the ass. I just didn’t want to go.
Humans had some kind of weird three-date rule I didn’t quite understand the purpose of. I didn’t want to wait three dates for a kiss or to knot him. Shit, I didn’t want to wait three dates to mate him.
“I guess we should go.” He hitched his head towards our waiter. At least he sounded sad about it.
Mine
My bear was done sitting back for the evening.
“I guess so. I’ll walk you out.” That’s what humans did right? Made sure they got their dates home safe? Though I wasn’t sure if he had a car.
I stood up and walked to his seat, intending to help pull it out like they did in the movies. To my surprise, he grabbed my hand before I could get around his chair and stood beside me.
We walked out like that, hand in hand, his warmth spreading through me, his scent enveloping me completely, my erection growing more painful by the second.
I meant to be that perfect gentleman, the one that walked him to the car or rideshare or whatever got him there, told him I enjoyed the evening, and then went home to whack off because let’s face it, that was in my future. But as the cool night air hit us and he looked up at me, his tongue darting out and licking his lips, I just had to kiss him. And so I did.
I leaned in slowly, giving him a chance to back away and pissing off my bear something fierce. Only Gabe didn’t back away, instead met me halfway, his lips brushing mine as he closed the distance. What started out as a sweet kiss deepened with each movement of our lips, my arms wrapping around him, loving the feel of his body pressed against mine.
“My place or yours?” he asked as our kiss broke, my bear close—so close.
We ended up at my place. All I cared about was Gabe
and the possibilities that lay before us.
Our lips collided the second the door opened.
I needed to taste him, to feel him pressed against me, to knot him.
We stumbled back onto the couch, the door clicking closed behind us, my entire focus on Gabe. I wanted to make him come undone until all he could think about was me, to have him call out my name as his cum hit the back of my throat, to fall asleep beside his naked body. I wanted it all.
So of fucking course, that was when I Need a Hero started to blare on my phone—the one ringtone I couldn’t ignore.
Worst. Timing. Ever.
“I’m sorry,” I grumbled as our kiss ended and I fished out my phone. “It’s the only ring I have to answer.” The one Soren created as an emergency line.
Gabe crawled onto my lap, his breath labored, his eyes heavy, and it was all I could do not to throw the phone into the wall and get back to the call at hand.
“It’s okay.” His voice faltered. It wasn’t okay, and the phone didn’t stop ringing.
“Someone better be dead,” I barked into the phone.
Seven
Gabe
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Fuck! Except there wouldn’t be any fucking to tonight. My blind date, Brad, the rugged lawyer whose scent had obliterated everything else and in whose lap I was sitting, had one hand curled around me as his other tucked the phone between his shoulder and ear.
His voice, the way he held himself, the words he used were lawyer Brad. Shrewd. Professional. Responsive. I hadn’t seen that Brad before.
His fingers had gone rogue as they crawled under my shirt and pinched my nipples, making me gasp. They brushed over my crotch as my dick, which was already hard, stiffened.
He tossed the phone on the floor and his hand had cupped my chin, forcing me to stare into his huge brown eyes and puzzling over what lay beneath their depths. Would I have the courage to find out?
Matched To His Bear: An M/M Mpreg Shifter Dating App Romance (The Dates of Our Lives Book 2) Page 3