The Polar Bear's Baby (Honeypot Babies Book 1)

by Sophie Stern

  I turn sharply and head down the bumpy dirt road, silently chastising myself for driving too fast at first. Morris Creek is a small town, but Honeypot is even smaller. It’s going to take some getting used to.

  There are trees on either side of the road and I can’t see a damn thing but the road. Finally, it curves to the right, and there’s a cute little building. I stop in front of it and get out.

  It’s a little blue cottage with white shutters and a big white door. The sign on the front says Bear’s Bakery and there’s a little wooden cut-out of a white polar bear on the door. I’m guessing the owner is a bear shifter, but despite the obvious nature of the building, I can’t help but think it’s adorable. What a charming little place.

  About 30 yards behind the cottage is a bigger house that perfectly matches the cottage. I’m guessing that’s where the owner lives. I’m picturing a cute little retired polar bear man with his polar bear wife and their polar bear babies.

  This is the perfect place to retire and bake. It’s the perfect place to relax after being in the city.

  It would be the perfect place to raise a baby.

  I can’t get ahead of myself, though. I don’t even know if Aidan is going to want to be involved in our baby’s life. I can’t be that presumptuous. There’s always the chance that he’ll tell me to get lost, that he won’t want to be bothered with something as mundane as raising a child.

  Still, a little part of me hopes he’ll be willing to be part of our child’s life. There’s so much I won’t be able to understand when it comes to raising a shifter baby. Having Aidan around to explain things, at least some of the time, would be perfect.

  But it was just one night.

  It was never meant to be serious.

  Before I burst into tears again, I realize I’m just standing in front of the building, so I head up to the door and push it open. The smell of freshly baked goods overwhelms me, and my stomach growls.

  “Just a minute,” a voice from the back calls out, but my heart goes cold. It’s not the voice of an old, retired bear.

  It’s the voice of Aidan.

  Aidan is the polar bear.

  Chapter 3

  Aidan

  “Mia?” I ask, not quite believing what I’m seeing. Mia Kaiser, the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met, is standing in the center of the bakery, and from the looks of things, she’s been crying. Her dark, wavy hair is frizzy and wild. It looks like it was pulled back, but fell out of a ponytail or bun. Has she been upset for awhile? Has she been brokenhearted? Has she been dealing with something horrible on her own? Why is she all alone?

  “Mia?” I say again, but she doesn’t respond. Her eyes are puffy and swollen and her mascara is dark around her eyes. Mia is always beautiful to me, even like this, but the idea of her being upset breaks my heart. What could possibly have happened to make her so sad?

  Mia has always been a go-getter. She’s always been brave and wild. Even before I met her, I knew all about her personality. Richard always bragged about her when we were in school. Once he realized all of his guy friends thought she sounded super amazing, he stopped talking about her as much. He wanted to brag about his sister: not marry her off.

  Still, I always thought she sounded really amazing. I’d never met a girl who could be rough and tumble one moment, but a princess the next. I’d never met a girl who could go to the shooting range in a tulle skirt. I’d never met a girl who could get caught making out by the police, but laugh about it later and call it a “learning experience.” I’d never met a girl who could laugh and joke and hold her own in debates. I’d never met a girl who seemed quite as damn cool as Mia Kaiser.

  And then I met her, and I had her, and it wasn’t enough. I wanted more after we slept together and I want more now. I want all of her. If Mia asked me to marry her today, I absolutely would. There’s no doubt in my mind the two of us would be great together. She didn’t call, but there could be a lot of reasons for that.

  Maybe Richard talked her out of it.

  Maybe she lost my number.

  Maybe she didn’t feel ready for a relationship, but she does now.

  Maybe Mia got scared, just like me.

  The depth of my feelings for her after just one day completely overwhelm me. A weaker man might feel scared or afraid of that, but I don’t. I embrace them, knowing that our story isn’t over yet. No, whatever’s going to happen between me and Mia is just beginning.

  It all starts with why she’s crying.

  She fidgets, wringing her hands, looking at the floor, then the displays, then back to the floor. I’m a little obsessive about keeping my bakery clean and just finished mopping and wiping down everything. I can see her reflection even when she’s looking away. It shows up in the glass display case, in the windows, and in the random mirrors hanging on the walls. Mia’s lips are pursed tightly together and she just looks devastated.

  She won’t meet my gaze.

  She looks anywhere but at me.

  Why won’t she look at me?

  And what’s wrong with her?

  Why did she come to my bakery?

  I’m overcome with the urge to comfort her and despite the fact that she wouldn’t call me after our little rendezvous, I need to fix whatever is bothering her. Setting my tray of buns down, I come out from behind the displays and wrap my arms around her. My whole body instantly relaxes, but she remains tense and nervous as I hold her.

  “Mia, what’s wrong?” I whisper, but apparently that was the wrong thing to ask. She bursts into tears, holds onto me, and starts loudly sobbing. I can’t understand what she’s saying, but she obviously feels very passionately about whatever she’s going on about.

  What in the actual hell?

  Mia is a strong woman. Things must be really bad for her to come all the way out to Honeypot to talk with me. They must be awful. What could possibly be so bad in Morris Creek that Mia would drive out here? What could have her so distraught that she’s crying on my shoulder?

  Then it suddenly hits me.

  Richard.

  Has something happened to him?

  I just saw him the other day, but what else could bring her to town? I’m not ready to let myself think maybe she wanted to see me. I’m not ready to let myself believe Mia wanted to hang out or talk or start things up after all this time. No, something must be wrong with her brother. He must have been in an accident or hurt or fallen or be in some sort of legal trouble. None of these things sound like something that might actually happen to Richard, but I’m grasping at straws.

  “Is it your brother?” I ask quickly. “Is he okay? Mia, is he hurt?” I’m rubbing her back and touching her hair as she cries against me, and despite the overwhelming sense of dread that’s filling me, I can’t help but focus on all the things I like about Mia.

  Even though she doesn’t want to date me, I don’t regret our night together. I’m not really a love-them-and-leave-them kind of guy, but the ball was in her court. She didn’t want to call, and I have to accept that. Only, she’s here now, and my thoughts are already jumping ahead to ways I can convince her to stay in Honeypot and give “us” a try. She ran to me when she was in trouble. That has to count for something, right?

  “He’s fine,” she shakes her head. If Richard is okay, that means the problem is something else. Maybe it’s something I can fix. Maybe it’s something I can help her with. I don’t know what kind of trouble Mia could possibly be in, but she doesn’t have to face it alone. I feel desperation coursing through my veins and I try to stop panicking. I don’t want anything like me being ridiculous to ruin our time together.

  I hold her closer, breathing in her sweet scent. Mia. It should be wrong that we spent the night together at Richard’s party, but it’s not. I should feel ashamed for being with my friend’s little sister, but I don’t. I can’t. Nothing about that night was wrong. It was all so perfect. There’s no doubt in my mind that Mia is the woman I’m meant to be with.

  Some shifters belie
ve in this idea of a one, true mate. They believe there’s one perfect human or shifter out there that you’re supposed to be with, that you’re supposed to spend eternity with.

  I never did.

  I always thought it was fake, just something people said to make themselves feel better about being alone. Like, you can’t find someone to be with? Oh, it must be because you haven’t “met your mate” yet.

  Then I met Mia, and everything changed.

  I met Mia and I knew – I knew – she was the woman for me.

  Some shifters might try to convince her to love them. Some might think it’s strange I left her my number and didn’t call. It’s because I’ve seen enough people be forced and pressured into a relationship and I didn’t want to be that guy. Even if Mia is my mate – and I believe she is – I would rather be alone than be with her when she’s not ready.

  It hasn’t been easy for me, though, being patient.

  It hasn’t been a simple thing.

  Since I returned home to Honeypot, I haven’t been sleeping well. I’ve been restless and anxious. I’ve constantly felt like something was missing. When I met her, we had an instant connection I’ve never felt before. I didn’t realize she was Richard’s sister at first: not until she told me. I just knew she was amazing, was delightful. I just knew she was hot as hell and had an attitude to match.

  I just knew I wanted to be with her, no matter how that might be.

  Now that she’s here, I never want to be away from her again. I don’t know how I survived the last two months without her and as I touch her softly, I wonder if she feels the same way I do. Has she been missing me? Has she been thinking of me? Has Mia felt lonely knowing I was far away? Has she wanted to call, but convinced herself not to?

  “What’s wrong, baby?” I murmur softly, kissing her hair. I shouldn’t. It’s not what she wants, I know. If she wanted to be with me, she would have called. She would have reached out. She would have done anything but what she did, which was nothing.

  Still, touching her feels natural. It feels right.

  Mia stiffens, then pulls away and looks at me, searching my eyes. She looks worried, almost frightened. What is she looking for? Patience? Acceptance? Love? I can give her all of those things if she’ll only let me.

  I still don’t know why she’s here, what she has to tell me. I’m trying so hard not to get my hopes up, but it’s no good. I’m already smitten.

  “I didn’t know this was your place,” she whispers. “I…I just need pie.”

  “You just need pie?” I ask, confused. My heart drops a little as I realize what she’s saying. I don’t want to believe what she’s saying. I don’t want this to be my reality. I came so close to having everything, to winning my girl, and now it’s slipping out of my grasp.

  She wasn’t looking for me.

  She didn’t come to Honeypot to start things up with me again.

  I’m an idiot.

  I never told her I’m a baker. We weren’t together that long: just one night. Our careers never really came up in conversation. We were too busy with other things. We were too busy making crazy love to each other. We were too busy feeling, experiencing, enjoying.

  Now it’s clear I completely misread the situation. This isn’t a moment where two lovers meet after months apart because fate brought them together. No, this is a moment where someone she had never expected to see again happens to work at the place where she wants to shop.

  For pie.

  “Aidan,” she says, but it’s no use. I’m already fighting the hopes that rose the second she stepped in the door. My heart swelled, but now it’s falling again. It’s going to crash, and hard. I need to get her the pie she wants and get her out of my damn shop before I can’t handle it, before I beg her to stay, before I’m asking her to just please, just please give me one more chance.

  I could be so good for her.

  “What can I get for you?” I ask with a fake plastic smile. It hurts my face to make.

  “Aidan, please, will you listen for a second?”

  “We have apple, pumpkin, or cherry today.”

  She bites her lip and looks around the shop nervously. I cross my arms in front of my chest and look down at her, waiting for her to decide. I don’t glare. My expression remains neutral. She’s not here for me, after all. She came here for pie: nothing more.

  “I, um…”

  “What will it be, Mia?”

  She walks to the display case and presses her hand to the glass. It’s spotless. People touch the glass all the time. Little cubs and old shifters alike love to press their palms to the glass for a better look at whatever happens to be in the display case, but I don’t mind. I clean the glass at least half a dozen times a day, making sure it’s clean and ready for whoever happens to come in the shop next. Now I know her handprint will be there when she moves and I consider not cleaning it.

  I consider keeping this one remnant of her in my shop.

  She turns to me and opens her mouth to speak, then shuts it again. She shakes her head, then walks across the room to the front door.

  “This was a mistake. I’m sorry for bothering you,” she whispers, then Mia pushes open the door and walks through. She closes it behind her with a sound of finality, followed by the sound of my heart cracking.

  The little bell above the door rings when she leaves, and I walk to the window. Peering out through the blue curtains, I see her quickly tear open the door to her car and collapse on the seat. She starts the car, then stares at the steering wheel and collapses in tears against it for one quick moment.

  Then Mia pulls back, says something to herself I can’t make out, and pulls out of my parking lot and back onto the road.

  Fuck.

  I really messed this up.

  When she walked through the door to my shop, I thought she had come back to say it was a mistake not to call. I thought she was ready to give us, to give me, a chance. I thought she was ready for us to have a go at what could be a really incredible relationship.

  Then, instead of giving her a demonstration of why she should want a relationship with me, I sent her packing.

  What a great guy I turned out to be.

  With a growl of frustration, I storm into the back of the shop and begin whipping up a recipe I’ve made a million times before. She drove all the way to Honeypot for something and from the little I know of Mia, I’m guessing she’ll stay until she gets it sorted out. She’s upset right now, so she’ll probably drive around or go shop or find a hotel to check into, but then we’re going to talk.

  She’s going to tell me why she’s here and why she hid from me.

  She’s going to tell me why she ran away.

  Chapter 4

  Mia

  Trying to see the road through my tears isn’t very safe. I do my best to stop crying, but it’s hard. I can’t believe I just had a huge mental breakdown in front of Aidan.

  Fuck, I can’t believe I just did anything in front of Aidan.

  He’s the one person I came to see and the one person I can’t talk to. I need to. I need to talk to him. It’s just that when he held me, all the feelings I tried to push away came back. All the feelings of acceptance, of love, of adoration: they just washed over me.

  I’m scared of the way Aidan makes me feel. I completely convinced myself I’d tell him about the baby and that would be it, but something tells me that I’m fooling myself if I think Aidan isn’t interested in me.

  This isn’t some high school relationship where the guy pretends to care when it’s convenient, then gets back together with his ex-girlfriend the minute she’s available. This isn’t like the time in college a guy dumped me for someone prettier. This isn’t a situation where he wants to be with me just because I’m around.

  Aidan isn’t like that.

  He’s deeper.

  He’s passionate.

  And something tells me he would love the hell out of me if I’d only let him.

  Somehow, I end up back at th
e diner. I’m still crying, but not as hard, and I sit in my car gripping the steering wheel like it’s a fucking anchor. I can’t move. I just need to be here for a minute. I just need to think. I just need to breathe.

  I’m sitting in the car with tears streaming down my face for about twenty minutes before I pluck up the courage to go back inside. Before I get out of the car, I rub my face on the back of my sleeve and check myself in the mirror. I look like shit. My eyes are puffy and swollen and my makeup is gone. I look like I just got dumped.

  I kind of feel like it, too.

  Before I can lose my nerve, I hop out of the car and head to the now-familiar front door of the diner. I don’t pause or look inside or think too hard. I just push it open and walk inside. I’m overwhelmed with the smell of burgers and French fries and my stomach rumbles in appreciation. When was the last time I actually ate?

  This morning, I was too nervous to eat. A combination of anxiety and morning sickness made food completely unappealing, but my body is making up for it now. My stomach growls again and I hear someone laugh. Obviously, my tummy is louder than I thought.

  “Sit wherever you like,” a friendly voice calls out. “I’ll be right with you.”

  I take my first real look around the diner and suddenly, I’m filled with relief. I’m not going to have to worry about being stared at or making a fool of myself. I won’t have to face anyone wondering who I am or why I’m in town.

  Everyone is gone.

  Apparently, the whole place clears out after lunch because every single booth and counter stool is empty. I’ve never been so happy to be the only customer somewhere before.

  I make my way to the end of the classic diner and take a stool at the counter. I’m at the very back. To my left, I can see the entirety of the restaurant. The walls are decorated with 50s-style pictures and pinup photos. There are some historical photographs, too. I’m guessing they’re of the town. I’m not sure how long Honeypot has been a shifter town, but I like seeing the grainy black-and-white pictures of people long ago.