Baby It's Cold Out Bear Holiday Bundle

by T. S. Joyce

  “Good morning.” His tone was all professional, probably for the guests he was helping.

  “Morning.” Ava couldn’t help the bounce in her step. She got to be around Brock today, even if he was busy working.

  He straightened up and unhanded the computer mouse, looked suspiciously at Ethyl. “Where are you two headed?”

  “She’s helping me in the kitchen.”

  Brock mimed cleaning out an ear. “Pardon me, I thought you just said you’re letting Ava into your kitchen.”

  “You heard right, boy. Breakfast will be in an hour. Let all the guests know.” Gran didn’t skip a single beat or slow down in the least. She just moseyed on into the dining room and disappeared around the corner into the kitchen.

  “But…you’ve never even let me in your kitchen,” Brock called out.

  Ava turned at the doorway to the dining room and shrugged. “I guess she likes me better than you.” Ha-ha, she mouthed.

  And right before she disappeared into the dining room, Brock gave her a wink that nearly buckled her knees. Steady girl, stay upright today.

  “Oh!” Ethyl called out, poking her head around the corner. “Brock, you have the morning off tomorrow to take Ava snowmobiling. I heard it’s fun to do with someone, not alone.” And there it was—the compensation for helping in the kitchen today.

  “Well,” Brock announced. “My workaholic grandmother just gave me a morning off work for fun. Start investing in warm socks. Hell is freezing over.”

  As the guests he was talking to laughed, Ava caught a glimpse of herself in a decorative mirror right outside the kitchen. Her cheeks were pink, she was smiling so big, and her eyes were bright green. She didn’t hide them, though. No point. Brock would take her sunglasses off if he saw her doing that anyway. She was struck, though, by something that made her pause and take a second look at herself in that reflection.

  She looked happy.

  Chapter Seven

  Gran made you a plate, and Roberto gave me a bottle of that white wine you liked yesterday.

  Ava put down the romance book she’d picked up from the small book collection near the hearth in her room tonight, and rolled over to her side on the bed. She cradled her phone like it was precious and read the text again. It was silly to miss a man she’d seen all day. Okay, they had both been busy, but he’d snuck to wherever she was over and over again…just showed up for a few minutes of talking.

  A thousand was the number of butterflies she’d had today.

  She’d watched his grandmother in the kitchen and had been in awe. At first, Ethyl only asked her to do the simplest tasks—hand her this, hand her that, take the food to the table. But after a private lunch away from the guests with Brock and Ava, Ethyl had loosened up and started explaining what she was doing to cook the potato soup. How to broil the steaks just right. How to season the green beans. Her little tricks to getting everything out at the same time and piping hot. At dinner, she’d trusted Ava more to help, and then insisted she go and enjoy the meal with the rest of the guests. It had been a long day, but a really, truly, good day.

  Are you done fixing the toilet in Lodge 8? Send.

  Haha, Gran told you. I don’t want you to fall too unhard for me, but I can also fix toilets. It’s a hidden talent.

  Is there anything you can’t do? Send.

  I can’t play ping pong to save my life. Can’t leave a job undone. Can’t wrap my head around ever losing this place…can’t get you out of my mind.

  She sighed and squinted at her dandelion, standing sturdy and strong in the pot near her window. “Cornelius, what are we going to do about this one?”

  She typed in a message to Brock. Where are you? Send.

  Come look out your front window.

  She grinned, stood, padded over to the window, and looked up at the one window that was glowing with light on the second floor of the main lodge. Brock stood there in a gray T-shirt and low slung black sweat pants, holding up a bottle of white wine and a wine glass, and wearing the cheesiest grin she’d ever seen. It made her laugh. She laughed a lot around him.

  He held up a finger, as if telling her to wait, set down the wine, and then pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed away. He looked up at her.

  Her phone dinged. Tomorrow I’m going to do this unright and take you snowmobiling. But tonight I can’t sleep, and it’s your fault.

  How? Send.

  Because I keep thinking about you, right across the yard, and I know I don’t have a lot of time with you. I have leftover food that is still semi-warm, wine, and no expectations other than to ask you to watch a movie with me.

  Hmmmm. What movie? Send.

  I know this is a test. Die Hard. Nothing romantic, I’m minding the rules.

  Good man. I don’t know if you can see from there, but I’m already in my pjs. And by pjs, I mean a giant T-shirt and baggy sweats that make it look like I’m shaped like SpongeBob SquarePants. Send.

  Perfect. Don’t you dare change. Just put on your snow boots and come get your food, woman.

  But she had to know because she was scared. She had moments of terror actually, just small ones that went away fast, as soon as she got lost in his smile again, but this was intimidating to her. Never in her life had she felt this much about someone so quickly. And the thing about wary hearts—they could get cut deeper. Letting someone in was scary because she had been burned before. She knew the bitter taste of that poison, and she didn’t want to drink it again.

  Have you ever done this before? Send.

  Done what?

  Hooked up with a guest. She waited a full minute before she decided she needed to know and hit send.

  The response was immediate. Never.

  Ava Dennis, the next text said. Yesterday, you said I was like everybody else when I looked up your shifter information. I’ve never been so hurt by words. I can’t get it out of my head. If anyone else would’ve said that to me, I wouldn’t have felt anything, but with you? I didn’t want you to see me like everyone else. I’m not everyone else.

  I’m not everyone else.

  Those four words meant more than she wanted to admit. She believed him. Down to her bones, she believed he was different because he’d been proving that since the second she’d met him. He’d stuck up for her, introduced her to everyone around them, wouldn’t let her hide, seemed so proud of her. And this morning, he’d woken up before the dawn to take his grandmother on a drive and explain to her why Ava was okay. She’d never met anyone so secure in themselves, so steady, so confident in their path.

  A movie night with him sounded perfect. He wasn’t asking her to dress up and impress him. He was asking for a relaxed PJ party. So okay. She shoved her feet into her snow boots and pulled her jacket over her pajamas and made her way through the cold night to the main lodge.

  He was waiting downstairs, leaned up against the check-in desk, hair mussed, lopsided smile painting his lips, and looking like a million bucks.

  “You’re a catch. Why do you want to hang out with me?”

  Seriousness washed over his face, and he asked, “You want me to be honest?”

  “Of course.”

  “No UnValentine rules?”

  “You have three minutes, and then it’s straight back to UnValentine’s Day rules,” Ava teased.

  He huffed a laugh and scratched the back of his head. “Honestly, it’s been a long time since I could talk this easily to anyone. Or felt connected? I guess I don’t connect with people easily. I mean other than the polite customer service side I have for running this place.” He cleared his throat. “I’m messing this up, and you’re nervous about me. That’s why you’re asking, right?”

  Ava nodded and leaned against the counter with him, separated by only inches. “It’s intense.”

  “Your feelings?”

  She pursed her lips. A wise woman didn’t show her cards too soon. A wise shifter never showed her cards at all. But he was being honest, and she owed him the same. “I like ev
erything about this place, and I think that’s because of you. You just make everything…easy.”

  “Another hidden talent of mine. Now, stop freaking out and eat leftover potato soup with me and watch a movie. And anytime you want to freak out and run, I won’t stop you or shame you. I’ll let you have your space, and then I’ll send you some adorably charming text a couple hours later that will make you unlike me again.” He nodded serenely. “I’m the man with a plan.”

  He was the man who was impossible to resist. He didn’t need to know that, though, so she announced, “Three minutes are up. Back to unromance.”

  With a chuckle, he told her, “After you,” and gestured to a set of stairs. “And before you get squeamish, you should know you are the first girl besides my Gran who has ever seen my apartment. I’m protective of it. The rest of this place belongs to guests, but this…this is for me.”

  She topped the stairs, opened the door, and froze, taken aback. It was like the dining room with beautiful, dark hardwoods on the floors and walls, a matching chandelier above the bed, and stone fireplace on the wall next to the small kitchen. It was just one big room and a door that probably led to a bathroom.

  “Ignore the mess,” he murmured, clearing a pile of work clothes off a leather chair by the bed. He looked around in a rush.

  With a laugh, she said, “What are you planning on doing with those? Hiding them? I’ve already seen them.” She pointed. “Under the bed looks good, though.”

  With an eye roll, he tossed them back on the chair. “I just got nervous.”

  “Brock, look at me. I’m wearing a T-shirt that is three sizes too big and sweat pants with chocolate stains on them that are hanging halfway down my butt. I’m the last person you should be nervous around.” But deep down, she was turning to mush. He was nervous? Around her? She should be the nervous one. He was so handsome and charismatic, and she was just…Ava.

  How did he do that? Make her feel important.

  There was a TV tray beside the bed with containers of leftover dinner, and he’d already poured a glass of wine and opened a beer for himself. He grabbed the remote and hit the play button on the movie he had paused. The TV was right above the hearth, and there was a fire glowing in it, heating up the room.

  And everything was perfect.

  She grabbed his hand and froze, bent at the knees, and looked up at him. “Ready?”

  He caught on instantly and nodded. “One…”

  “Two…”

  “Three!”

  They ran and jumped on the bed. Ava’s T-shirt billowed out like a parachute right before she landed. “I’m so attractive,” she teased, adjusting her shirt modestly as she sat up and curled her legs to the side.

  “Agree. I don’t care who says lingerie is the sexiest thing a woman could sleep in. I think it’s definitely a giant beer shirt.”

  She looked down at the brewery logo across her chest and laughed. “This is my man-getting outfit.”

  He dragged her hips closer and kissed her suddenly. It was fast and hard, his lips firm against hers. She gasped at the suddenness of it. He eased back to whisper, “It’s working.”

  Utterly shocked, she searched his eyes, so blue and steady on her. She waited for the panic to hit, but it didn’t. In fact, she’d never felt more right and safer and comfortable than here, in this moment, with him.

  She eased forward and hesitated just inches away from his lips, then leaned in and kissed him gently. His fingers had been digging into her hips, but his hands relaxed. One hand drifted up her shirt to her ribs and rested there. He drew slow circles on her skin with his thumb and cupped her neck gently with the other hand. He didn’t rush. He just kissed her, explored her body, tracing her curves, learning her shape, dragging fire with his fingertips across her sensitive skin.

  And when every muscle in her body was relaxed, she found her bravery and pushed his T-shirt upward. Brock knelt and pulled off his shirt, then grabbed her hand and placed it over his beating heart. He laid back down on his side and oh what a view. He had perfect pecs, the defined line between them, a flexed six pack, and a light trail of hair that led down into his low slung sweats. She traced it with her finger and hooked her hand on the elastic band.

  His smile turned wicked. “Do it,” he dared her.

  Ava pulled down, unsheathing his big, thick cock. Holy hell.

  He kicked out of his sweats, and when he pulled the corner of the covers over them, she felt even warmer, even safer.

  He kissed her again, took his time, and guided her hand over his skin. Memorize me, he seemed to say in the silence of the room.

  Body humming, Ava pushed her own sweats down her legs. His hand went straight to the back of her knee and dragged it up to rest over his waist. And then he rolled his body against her.

  It. Felt. So good.

  His swollen dick pushed against her just right, and she let off a soft moan.

  When a deep noise in his throat sounded, she snuggled closer. Kiss, kiss, his hands were getting rougher as he grabbed her ass, her waist, her thighs…as he reached under her shirt and cupped her breast.

  Arching back, Ava moaned his name.

  “More?” he murmured against her lips.

  “Please,” she begged.

  “Mmmmm,” he rumbled, pulling her T-shirt over her head.

  And now it was just her skin against his, nothing between them.

  It was perfect, this strong man, fitting just right against her soft curves. They were intertwined in every way, arms, legs, lips moving against lips.

  She was already so wet when he pressed his erection against her. She could come just like this, but a desperation took over her. A hunger.

  Ava reached between them, gripped his hard cock, and smiled against his lips when he let off a moan of ecstasy. She had that power over him. Her. This was perhaps the first time Ava had ever felt powerful in her entire life.

  Spreading her knees wider, she eased the head of his cock to her entrance and rocked her hips forward.

  “Fuck, Ava.” He rolled her over onto her back and stayed right with her, between her knees. “Need you,” he growled.

  His hand found her breast, and he massaged hard, bringing another gasp from her lips at how good it felt, and then he pushed into her. In, in, deeper and deeper as she closed her eyes and wished this moment could drag on. She’d never felt anything this good.

  Deep inside of her, he bucked into her shallowly, staying right against her clit. The pressure built so fast she was panting his name after a few thrusts.

  “Come for me,” he whispered against her neck, nipping her with his teeth. “Come on, Ava.” His voice was deep and gritty, hungry as he bucked into her. His fingertips dug into her ass as he pushed into her faster and harder.

  The slick sound he made sliding into her was so sexy, and she dug her nails into his back as she lost control. Her release pulsed through her body, consuming her. She came hard, gripping his dick, but he didn’t slow. Instead, he bucked into her faster, their bodies crashing together.

  Her orgasm was so intense she couldn’t stop the sounds of euphoria that poured from her throat. Then Brock slammed into her deep and held, his body impossibly rigid as he grunted out the sexiest moan against her neck. His dick throbbed inside of her, spilling warmth that dragged her orgasm on and on.

  Nothing…nothing…had ever felt like this.

  She lay there spent and safe under his weight as he rolled his hips languidly. He kissed and sucked and nipped at her neck, her jawline, her lips, her earlobe. His hands had turned to velvet against her skin, as if he was coveting her.

  He didn’t get up and leave her alone on the bed to wonder what the hell had just happened to her body. He didn’t leave her at all. He stayed right there, buried inside of her, in no rush to put space between them.

  She fell for him him a little deeper with each minute that he made her feel beautiful, important, and worth his time.

  And when he rolled over at last, he still did
n’t leave. He brought her with him and hugged her tight against his chest, rested his chin on top of her head. His heartbeat was racing hers, but both eventually slowed.

  “Can I tell you something?” he asked low.

  “Anything.”

  “Earlier, with my gran, you said your animal is pointless.”

  “Mmm hmmm.”

  “I didn’t like that. The animal is part of what makes you you.”

  It was sweet of him to say, and her stomach got flutters of happiness, but he hadn’t seen her animal. Hadn’t coped with what she really was. How could he? Brock had only seen her human skin. Had only touched the softness, not her armor. But still…it made her smile that he didn’t like that she put herself down. “You’re a good man, Brock.”

  “Mmmm, well this good man had plans to take things slow with you and make you addicted to me so you would come back and visit me again soon. Or invite me to Texas. But instead I slept with you the first chance I got.”

  She laughed and snuggled her face against his chest. “I’m not complaining.” And just to test him and to tease a little, she murmured, “You know…my job allows me to work from anywhere.”

  There was a smile in his voice as he said, “Then I’ll keep working on you. Hungry?”

  “Part of your plan to get me addicted is to feed and fuck me thoroughly, isn’t it?” she teased.

  His chuckle vibrated from his chest against her cheek. His tone was tainted with seriousness when he spoke, though. “Ava, I’m selfish and want to keep you. I would do stupid things to steal more time with you. I would do stupid things to steal your attention.”

  Butterflies, butterflies.

  He wasn’t just in this for a fling.

  Laying a kiss on his chest, she whispered, “It’s not stealing if you earn it.”

  Chapter Eight

  Ava woke with a start. She’d had a dream that was right at the edge of her memory, and she didn’t recognize the scents around her. The moonlight from the window illuminated the room, so when she rolled over, she could see him clearly. Brock was on his side, facing her, his face relaxed with sleep. No shirt, so the curves of his muscles were highlighted and shadowed. He looked so handsome, like a painting of a god mid-slumber.