Patricia rode up the mountain with the front two windows rolled down. Katrina knew not to stick her head out the window because it was dark and there was no telling what was outside She smelled the forest air. It was piny, earthy, and seemed to crackle with magic.
Patricia turned into the Grizzlyfir parking lot. Out on the lawn, there were various tables set up, laden with food, and there were a series of grills, including one large trailer style grill.
“I’m gonna go hang with Darius,” said Patricia, closing the door after the pair of BBWs got out of the car. “You cool with that?”
“Of course,” said Katrina. “I can handle myself.”
“Good,” said Patricia with a wink. “I’m not drinking tonight, so whenever you wanna head back, we can.”
“Got it,” said Katrina.
Katrina took in the lay of the land. Obviously, Patricia knew what she was doing because she’d been there before — on evenings like this. Was this an event that Grizzlyfir held every Friday? Or was it just for special occasions? She’d spotted Alex by the grill, and although she wanted nothing more than a plate full of barbecue ribs and a big mess of coleslaw, she made her beeline to the giant grill.
Katrina approached Alex from the side. She didn’t poke him, as he was using grilling tools. She just said, “Hey.”
“Hey,” said Alex nonchalantly, turning over a burger, before turning, and seeing that Katrina was there. “Oh — Katrina! Hey!”
“Should I come back when you’re not grilling?” asked Katrina.
“That’d be never,” said Alex. “Tell you what — grab yourself a plate and a drink, and, I hate to ask this — can you grab me a beer too? Hot grill, has me parched.”
“Of course,” said Katrina. “Give me a hot second. Get it? ‘Hot’ second?”
“Ha-ha,” said Alex, winking, before the flare of the grill drew his attention back to the meat.
Katrina went over to the cooler first and grabbed two beers. She grabbed herself a cup of kettle corn and walked back over to the grill. Alex had had someone bring over a folding camping chair for her to sit in, because the chair definitely hadn’t been there before, and Alex hadn’t moved from the grill. Katrina smiled to herself. Alex was thoughtful, even when he was busy.
“Here,” said Katrina. “I didn’t know what you wanted, so I got an IPA and a pilsner.”
“I’ll take the water — err, pilsner. A woman who knows her beer? Marry me here and now,” said Alex, only half-joking.
“I have to know my beer,” said Katrina. “I have to help make the bread, and our beer bread is pretty dang tasty. We do a seasonal selection. It’s super popular at weddings, and for upscale bachelor parties.”
“If I’m sober enough at my bachelor party to tell that the rolls have beer in them, just kill me then,” said Alex.
“I wouldn’t take you for a partier,” said Katrina.
“Work hard, play hard,” said Alex. “I thought I told you to make yourself a plate, little lady.”
“One — have you seen these curves? I’m not little,” said Katrina, motioning over her thick body. “Two — I’m being polite and waiting for you to finish grilling before I make myself a plate. Okay — I mean, I’m waiting for you to finish before I start eating and if I get a plate, and have it in front of me, and I can’t eat it, well, I’ll just be torturing myself.”
“Okay, counterpoints — you’re smaller than me, so you’re positively tiny,” said Alex. “Why would I invite you to a cook-out if I didn’t want you to eat?”
“Well, last time I checked, it’s rude to eat before the other person has their plate, on a…” started Katrina.
“On a what?” asked Alex, turning, forgetting to flip a burger.
“On a date,” said Katrina.
The burger burned.
“Alright then, Miss Muffet…I only have one question for you,” said Alex, leaning in to whisper into Katrina’s ear. “How do you want…your burger?”
Katrina couldn’t help but laugh. “Loaded up with toppings — but please, don’t make me eat that briquette!”
Alex tossed two more burgers on the grill while Katrina looked over the toppings bar and grabbed them some plates and buns. She came back and held the plates out so that Alex could carefully put the burgers on the buns. Another lumberjack took over the grill. Alex put his plate down and reached down to undo his apron. That’s when Katrina saw what the apron said, and decided to do what the apron ordered.
Katrina leaned forward and gave Alex a kiss on the cheek. Alex stood still, taking in what had happened. Had Katrina really just kissed him, or had the smoke from the grill gotten to him?
“What’s wrong?” asked Katrina.
“Did you really just — “ started Alex.
“Yes,” said Katrina. “Your apron does say ‘Kiss the Cook,’ after all.”
“Trust me, I’ve got at least a dozen novelty aprons,” said Alex.
“You do?” asked Katrina with a laugh.
“I think cooking should be fun, and plus, it helps people spot me in a crowd like this,” said Alex with a wink. “We like to have fun here at Grizzlyfir.”
“I like to have fun too,” said Katrina awkwardly.
“Then I think you’ll fit in just fine,” said Alex, giving Katrina a kiss on the cheek. Katrina couldn’t help but grin.
Alex took Katrina’s plate out of her hand and put it down. Before Katrina could react, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close before leaning down to whisper huskily in her ear, “And your outfit practically screams kiss me.”
“Then do it,” challenged Katrina, feeling Alex’s hands on her soft curves and melting like a bowl of ice cream underneath his touch.
Alex put another hand on the back of Katrina’s head and pulled her close to kiss her right on the lips. His heart pounded, and his bear roared. Alex slid a knee between Katrina’s legs and rocked it up on her slit.
“Get a room, you two!” shouted a voice.
Alex and Katrina broke the kiss. Katrina was blushing bright pink.
“So — those burgers,” said Alex, not giving a single hot damn about the burgers. “You want me to dress your burger?”
“Sure — surprise me,” said Katrina, although she wanted to say, ‘No — don’t dress my burger. Just undress me, Alex.’
“Grab us two seats and some more beers, and I’ll bring over the burgers and some sides,” promised Alex.
Katrina nodded and hoped that her light walk in the summer night would cool her down. The mountain air smelled of pine, but the air around the campsite smelled of manly musk. Katrina grabbed two more beers and found an empty set of seats at one of the long communal eating tables.
Alex came over and passed Katrina a burger.
“Double bacon, double cheddar cheese, double patty,” said Alex. “Caramelized onions, some crunchy onions, a dab of barbecue sauce, and a dot of hot sauce.”
“Uhm — that sounds amazing,” said Katrina.
“Watch your mouth,” said Alex.
“Uh — excuse me?” asked Katrina.
“I had two more burgers made for you because ours got cold…while we got hot,” said Alex, raising an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t want you to burn that pretty tongue of yours — not before I’ve had a chance to meet it.”
Katrina rolled her eyes, pretending to let the joke roll off her like water off a duck, but her pinkening cheeks gave away her true feelings. She lifted the burger and bit in. It was juicy, with a gamey taste, and the onions add a mix of sweetness and tartness to the burger. So did the barbecue sauce. The fat of the bacon and cheddar was matched with the heat of the peppery sauce.
“Okay — Alex, this amazing,” said Katrina. “Like — restaurant good.”
“Oh, wow — do you think I could make money selling these?” asked Alex, with a straight face.
“Yeah — you could totally be a professional chef,” said Katrina, chewing the burger, and when she swallowed, she realized what she’d said. “Al
ex — I’m so sorry, I forgot that you — “
“It was a joke,” said Alex. “I just like seeing you blush. Whenever we have a burger night, I’ll be sure to make sure you get an invitation, Miss Muffet.”
“What kind of meat is this?” asked Katrina.
“Elk! We buy lots of meat from the local butcher, the one that buys meat from the tourist hunters that are here for sport, but can’t be bothered to butcher their own animals,” explained Alex with a smile. “I guess some people don’t know how to cook it, so they sell their game to the butcher for pennies a pound, and we buy the meat in bulk from the butcher. He also works with local hunters, and that meat’s more expensive, but it’s usually tastier, so we also buy that — the higher priced meat.”
“So, you eat a lot of elk?” asked Katrina.
“Well…we eat whatever we can get that’s good and cheap,” said Alex. “Sometimes, we have venison. Other times, moose. We also know some fisher bears and get our salmon from them.”
“Do you ever miss being a lumberjack?” asked Katrina.
Alex furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”
“Well — you’re a great cook, but, do you ever missing like, chopping down trees?” asked Katrina.
“Oh — I get it,” said Alex. “The way it works is, I’m the head cook, so I work with Darius on things like the menu and the food orders. I handle a lot of logistical stuff and cook dinner because breakfast and lunch are simple. I also cook special stuff — like special dishes for people’s birthdays. But, the rest of the time, I’m still working up there, on the mountain.”
“You are?” asked Katrina.
Alex curled his arm and popped a bicep. “I have to keep this body looking good, don’t I?”
“If it was about that, you could just join a gym,” said Katrina, arms crossed. “What’s the real reason you work here? You could work anywhere. I’ve had your apple turnovers and your burgers. They’re great.”
“I like being around other shifters, other bears, and I like being in the woods,” said Alex. “I think if I were cooped up in a kitchen all day, I’d go nuts. I leave all the boring cooking work to other kitchen staff.”
“Hey — Alex, Katrina,” said a voice. It was Patricia, who was walking over with a big, burly lumberjack in a flannel. The pair took seats along the bench, near Alex.
“What’s up, Patricia?” asked Katrina. “Hey, Darius.”
“So…do you remember what I was telling you about the Dixon River Festival?” asked Patricia.
“Honestly — I remember we talked about it, but you didn’t seem to have much of a plan,” admitted Katrina.
“Well, that’s changed — because I ran some ideas past Darius and he had a great idea,” said Patricia. “We’re going to co-host a booth at the festival.”
“What?” asked Katrina. “I’m lost.”
“The festival is a safe way to drum up business — and to connect with local businesses,” said Patricia. “If we share a big booth, we can sell pastries and yummy food, and we can also spread the word about Camp Grizzlyfir because they’re always looking for new lumberjacks, new businesses to work with, et cetera.”
“The booth will be our proof of concept — proof that Grizzlyfir can work well with other businesses,” said Darius wrapping an arm around Patricia’s shoulders.
“Yeah — proof that we can all be friends,” said Patricia, not shrugging off Darius’ firm, comforting touch.
“So, what do you need me to do?” asked Katrina. “I’m game.”
“You’re my jane-of-all-trades,” said Patricia. “I want you to run the actual booth, and come up with a plan for what we can sell. But, you can’t do it by yourself — that’s why you need a lumberjack of all trades.”
“A lumberjack?” asked Katrina, looking over at Alex and smiling. “You know…I might know a guy.”
“Darius, you want me on this?” asked Alex. “What exactly do you want me to do? No offense, Katrina — I just have no clue what part I can play.”
“You’ll come up with plans for the physical booth,” explained Darius. “You’ll design and build it. Try to showcase the different woods we offer for sale — and do a respectable job because I want to start pushing our construction services. That means no cutting corners and no sparing expenses. Oh — and I want you on this because you know the most about food, so you can figure out how to make a good food sales booth or whatever. I don’t know. That’s your job to figure out.”
“You’re lucky we’re friends, or I’d demand a bonus,” said Alex.
“Isn’t the bonus getting to work with your — “ started Darius.
“Darius!” hissed Alex.
“Darius, do you own Grizzlyfir?” asked Katrina, changing the topic for Alex.
“I mean, can any one man really own something like this?” asked Darius, motioning around the vast lawn, covered in folks chatting, dancing, eating, drinking, and making merry, and up toward the more forested parts of the mountain.
“The answer is yes, and he does,” answered Patricia, rolling her eyes. “Grizzlyfir is covering the cost of materials and labor for the booth. We’re handling pastries. Of course…we’re going to need you and Alex to work together to make sure that we’re all on the same page. Sound doable?”
“Yeah — it’s just one little festival, one booth,” said Alex. “What could go wrong?”
“Simple,” agreed Katrina.
“Easy peasy,” said Alex with a grin.
Everything would go wrong, things would not be simple, and they’d be far from easy-peasy.
Chapter Four
Katrina and Alex were working in the meeting room at Bear Claw Bakery, working on another set of plans. Alex had shown Katrina some color swatches of the diverse types of wood they offered, and the varnishes and stains they could use.
“Okay — sorry, but, I’m just seeing a bunch of browns and greens,” said Katrina. “It all looks the same to me.”
“Really?” asked Alex. “Do these two really look the same to you?” Alex held up two pieces of brown wood that, to Katrina, looked absolutely the same.
“Look — imagine that you had to decorate a cake,” said Katrina. “Wouldn’t it be hard for you to tell the difference between buttercream and fondant and marshmallow fondant and royal icing?”
“I guess so,” admitted Alex. “Wait — decorating a cake?”
“Yeah,” said Katrina. “It’s a lot like building a…oh!”
“Yes,” said Alex. “Absolutely. Let’s go with this. Can you grab the cake book from Patricia?”
“You know about our cake book?” asked Katrina.
“Of course — I’ve used it to order special cakes for Grizzlyfir, mostly for birthdays,” explained Alex.
“I’ll be right back,” promise Katrina.
Katrina went out of the meeting room. Somebody rang the bell at the bakery counter. She peeked into the main cafe area. Nobody was there to take an order, so she went to ring up the customer.
As soon as Katrina saw who it was, she forced herself to smile. Usually, the smile would come naturally, but not when it came to the person at the counter.
“Welcome to the Bear Claw Bakery,” said Katrina, pretending she had absolutely no idea who was standing at the counter, gray flannel button-up rolled up to the elbows.
“Well, hello, Miss Muffet,” said Quentin. “You’re just the person I’m here to see.”
“What can I get you?” asked Katrina, grabbing a paper bag and slip of parchment.
“I’m not here for pastries,” said Quentin. “I’m here for you.”
“Well, knowing you…I’d recommend our almond croissants, petit fours, eclairs, macarons, or opera cake,” said Katrina sweetly. “But, my muffin top — it’s off the table, and definitely not for someone like you.”
“Oh, someone handsome, charming, with devilish good lucks, a penchant for the finer things in life, who’s very handsome?” asked Quentin.
“You said handsome twice
— arguably three times,” said Katrina.
“I’m two times as handsome as the average handsome man — arguably three times more handsome,” retorted Quentin, raising an eyebrow.
Before Katrina could say anything, Patricia came out and said, “Hey, Quentin! So, I see Katrina came out to greet you. Are ready to get to work?”
“He rang the bell,” said Katrina. “But, he didn’t order anything.”
“Of course he didn’t,” said Patricia. “He’s here to help you and Alex with the booth.”
“He’s what?” asked Katrina, incredulous. “Does Darius know about this?”
“Yes — but I only got the details finalized with Terrence about an hour ago,” explained Patricia. “That’s why I didn’t mention this before. Anyway. Quentin is going to be helping with construction as well. He’s their chef, and a lumberjack, so he’s got a skillset like Alex’s.”
“Well, I didn’t come out here to greet him,” said Katrina. “I actually was on my way to your office to ask if we could have a copy of the cake book to look at for construction ideas.”
“Weird — but I won’t interfere with an artist and their work,” said Patricia. “I’ll bring it to the meeting room for you.”
Katrina’s cheeks burned as she led Quentin to the meeting room. She’d not only made herself look like a fool but now, she had to figure out how to work with Quentin. What on earth could he offer the project?
As soon as Quentin entered the room, Alex jumped on the frikkin’ table, scattering paperwork.
“Alex! What are you doing?” shouted Katrina.
“What am I doing? What’s he doing, here?” asked Alex.
“Calm your tits,” ordered Quentin. “I’m here because Patricia made a deal with Terrence and Darius.”
“Like Hell she did,” cursed Alex.
“Yeah — she did,” said a voice — Patricia, who was holding a big binder. “Terrence and Darius are both using this festival as ways to show off their lumber — and other services offered by their camps. Now, get off my dang table, Alex, and stop dicking around. I need you two lumberjacks to come up with a booth design and Katrina, we need that pastry menu ASAP so we can figure out who we need to have on staff the night before the festival.”
Miss Muffet’s Bears: Freshly Baked Furry Tails, Book 2 Page 3
