Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
“Here,” he murmured, handing it to me. “Grabbed it from my truck when I noticed you were cold last night.”
I held the soft fabric against my chest for a second before slipping it on. It dwarfed me completely, the hem hanging to my mid-thighs. His scent clung to the cotton, and it felt like being wrapped in him. “Thank you.”
Bexley brushed a kiss against my forehead in a gesture so sweet that I almost cried, then he pushed to his feet. He padded across the cottage with a quiet confidence, moving like he already belonged here. And maybe he did.
He crouched at the fireplace first, stacking wood and coaxing new flames to life. Then I followed him into the kitchen, where he checked the stove, turning knobs and muttering under his breath about pilot lights. Finally, he looked out the window, assessing the snowfall with a slight narrowing of his eyes.
Watching him was its own kind of warmth. My heart felt too big for my chest, so full I didn’t know what to do with it.
“You hungry?” he asked without looking back.
“Do you even have to ask after all the calories we burned yesterday?”
He rewarded my teasing with a deep, satisfied rumble as he rummaged in the pantry. After grabbing some supplies, he set a bowl on the counter and began mixing flour, baking powder, sugar, salt, and spices. Then he added oil, water, and vanilla.
“You’re making pancakes?” I asked, incredulous when I realized what he was doing.
“Yep.”
My brows drew together. “But you don’t have milk or eggs.”
He shot me a half grin over his shoulder. “You gotta trust me.”
I was surprised to realize how easily trust came to me with him, when I was so wary of other people. I could only assume it was because of the whole fated mate thing.
He flipped the first batter round into a hot pan, and the smell of food made my mouth water. Then he slid a plate toward me with golden, slightly crisp pancakes that looked far better than anything that should’ve been possible with the sad contents of my grandmother’s pantry. Or mine, now.
I took one bite and groaned. “How? These are incredible.”
He shrugged, but his smugness was unmistakable. “I have skills you haven’t seen yet.”
Heat bloomed in my cheeks. “Pretty sure I saw a lot of your best moves up close and personal last night.”
Bexley froze for half a heartbeat, his eyes going dark and molten. There was a delicious growl in his voice as he murmured, “Those were just the warm-up, baby.”
All I could do was shove another bite of pancake into my mouth so I didn’t whimper out loud.
The morning quiet had just settled into something warm and lazy when a strange mechanical buzzing drifted through the window. I paused mid-bite and frowned. “What is that?”
“Sounds like a snowmobile.”
Bexley followed me as I stood and moved toward the window, where he was proven right. A snowmobile crested the last bend of the long driveway and glided to a noisy stop beside the porch. A man bundled in a heavy ski jacket with goggles pushed onto his forehead hopped off and trudged through the snow toward the front door.
“Oh!” I breathed. “I bet that’s my real estate agent. We were supposed to meet today, but with the storm, I didn’t think he’d make it.”
A low growl vibrated at my back. “Forest.”
“Yeah, that’s his name.” I gave him a look over my shoulder. “You have me in such a daze, I couldn’t remember it for a second.”
He turned me around and claimed my mouth in a deep kiss that left me breathless when he finally lifted his head. It took me a moment to realize the pounding I heard was Forest knocking on the door and not my heart.
Bexley told me to put on a pair of pants. I tugged a pair of leggings on, and he was already halfway through the living room before I hurried to catch up with him. He flung open the door just as Forest was about to knock again.
Forest’s eyes widened as Bexley filled the doorway. “Hey, Bex.”
“Forest.” The single word sounded a whole lot more like a warning than a greeting.
Forest lifted both hands slowly in a gesture of surrender.
I blinked between them. “Wait. Is he…?”
“Wolf,” Forest confirmed, darting another look at Bexley. “Not mated. Which means your polar bear here is fully justified in wanting to rip my throat out for breathing too close to his mate.”
He took several very deliberate steps backward.
Bexley growled.
“Yep. That tracks.” Forest swallowed. “Shoulda realized what was going on from the moment I smelled polar out here.”
Possessive energy practically snapped in the air around us.
Forest pointed awkwardly at the snowmobile. “Leaving this in case you need it. Human mate and all that.”
Another growl rumbled up Bexley’s chest.