Grizzly Attraction

by Hattie Hunt

  Mason only shrugged, laughed, and crawled into bed. “Good night, Emma.”

  “Good night, Mason.”

  Emma lay on her back for about half a second before sliding her underwear down her legs and dropping them on the floor. Smiling to herself, she rolled onto her side and went to sleep.

  22

  Cyn refused to give Emma her coffee, holding it in front of her with the temptation of a damned bottle of wine. Which Emma didn’t feel like she needed, but she wouldn’t have been opposed to it if Cyn had spiked her coffee with whiskey.

  And not because things were shitty. She had woken up so refreshed she didn’t even know who she was. Lack of sleep notwithstanding.

  Which was the exact reason Cyn was being a pain.

  “You’re really going to hold my coffee hostage? Come on, Cyn.”

  “Yes, I am, until you dish on what has such a spring in your step this morning.”

  Emma groaned and leaned over the bake table. “Use your imagination. I bet you can figure it out.” She really, really didn’t want to go into details. She hadn’t even processed them yet.

  “Nope. Not good enough.”

  “Enjoy the coffee, then. We have work to do.”

  Cyn shrugged and took a drink out of Emma’s cup.

  That…bitch.

  “Who was it?”

  Emma wasn’t telling her anything. Especially while she was drinking Emma’s damned coffee. “Nobody.”

  “Break-up sex with Jordan?”

  “No.”

  “A bar fly.”

  “Seriously, Cyn? Gross.”

  “Oh! Cookie boy.”

  The similarity to quill boy had a smirk on her lips before she could stop it.

  “You’re joking!”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  Cyn started pulling pans and bowls from under the counter. “You didn’t have to.”

  Emma rolled her eyes and disappeared into the supply closet. What day was it? Her brain hadn’t caught up to work yet, despite her claim to Cyn. She rapped her fingers on the shelf and then started pulling sacks of flour and sugar down. When she emerged, Cyn set Emma’s coffee on the table, noticeably less full than it should have been. Emma dropped the supplies and swiped up the cup before Cyn could take it away again.

  “Cookie boy. Really. I mean, he isn’t bad to look at or anything. He definitely is no Jordan, but… really, Em?”

  “Cyn, you were trying to get me to sleep with him a few days ago.”

  “I wasn’t actually serious.”

  She totally had been.

  “So, what was it? One-night stand? Is he your boyfriend now?”

  “Cyn, would you please drop it?”

  “Give me a break. I live vicariously through your exploits.”

  “What exploits?”

  “Do we need to count the amount of times you and Jordan have screwed around in the kitchen?”

  They didn’t, because her and Jordan had never actually screwed around in the kitchen. Emma wondered if she should try and explain that to Cyn. It could be done, mostly, without getting into the clan issues. Cyn was probably one of those people that thought arranged marriages were romantic or something. Okay, not probably. If someone showed up on her doorstep and told her she was suddenly engaged to marry a prince or something, she wouldn’t think twice about it.

  “I know you aren’t going to believe me when I tell you this.”

  “Oh, let me guess first. Twenty-seven.”

  “Zero.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Will you shut up for two seconds, so I can explain myself? Damn, Cyn.”

  Cyn sealed her lips with her fingers and threw away the key. Then reached for the scale, bag of flour, and metal mixing bowl.

  “Jordan and I haven’t slept together in over a year. Everything you saw here was a ruse.”

  Cyn’s lips parted to say something and then she sucked in a breath, chewing on her bottom lip and the inside of her cheek in tandem.

  “My mother arranged a marriage between us and we decided a long time ago that it wasn’t for us. So, we kept our relationship status a secret for almost two years.”

  “Hold on.” Cyn couldn’t contain herself any longer. “An arranged marriage. You’re joking.”

  “I wish I was.”

  Cyn sputtered and then waved an indignant hand at Emma. She dipped a cup into the bag of flour and dumped it into the bowl. Looked up at Emma and shook her head before leaning down too close to the numbers on the scale.

  Emma laughed out loud. “What?”

  Cyn sucked in her lip and then licked them before returning to her chewing. Then she dropped the measuring cup onto the counter and pushed aside the scale. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me about this?”

  “Well, if it makes you feel any better, you are now one of two people who know the truth about what’s going on.”

  “Emma, you can literally tell me anything, you know. I’m offended you didn’t fill me in the second you decided you guys weren’t together. What the shit happened?”

  Maybe she shouldn’t have told Cyn what was going on. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just been done a long time. I don’t know. I guess I wanted you to know that Mason isn’t a rebound.” Well, that came out of nowhere. Emma didn’t know why it mattered, but she knew, quite abruptly, that it was true. He wasn’t a rebound. What they had shared didn’t feel like rebounding. But that was what everyone was going to see it as if they went public.

  Maybe yesterday had been a fluke.

  No. She refused to deny what had happened. Just thinking about Mason and his promise to stop by after he was done at the school made her insides flutter. When her alarm went off that morning and she rolled over, tempted to call Cyn and tell her she wasn’t going to make it in, she discovered that the pillows she had laid out between them were gone. One of her breasts was uncovered, all out in the open. And Mason was asleep, one hand resting on her leg over the covers.

  Emma smiled at the thought. He hadn’t even stirred when she crawled out of bed.

  “Cyn,” Emma said, leveling her gaze on her friend. “Promise me you won’t make things weird when Mason comes in later. Or I swear I will never tell you anything again.”

  “No promises.”

  “Cyn, I mean it.” Emma gulped down the remaining coffee.

  Cyn huffed and then nodded, her shoulders falling. “Fine.”

  “Good. Now, will you go get me some more coffee so we can get some work done?”

  * * *

  Aside from the occasional sidelong and contemplative looks from Cyn, the day moved along smoothly. Emma felt like time was ticking a little bit slower than normal, and as the lunch rush wound down, she leaned against the front counter sipping a tall glass of ice water. Cyn had stepped out to go grab them sandwiches from down the street, and Emma relished the few moments of peace.

  The door jingled, and she looked up, expecting Cyn but finding Jordan instead. Shit.

  “Hey stranger,” he said, walking up to the counter.

  “Hey.” Shit. Shit. Shit. Emma hadn’t talked to Jordan in days, despite his text messages. What was she supposed to even say to him?

  “I thought I’d stop by and make sure everything was okay since you haven’t been returning my messages.” He leaned onto the counter.

  Emma straightened, taking a step back. “Yeah, everything is fine. Sorry. I have been super busy.”

  “With what?”

  Did she really have to answer that? To Jordan?

  “Just… stuff. Besides, my phone’s busted.” She really needed to get that fixed.

  “Emma, come on. What’ve you been up to? I’ve been worried about you.”

  “Why is everyone worried? Now that Cheryl is out of the way, we should have nothing to worry about at all.”

  “Well, it might have something to do with the fact that you’re alpha and you haven’t even called a meeting to address the changeover. Like, we have a new alpha, and no one’s seen
her since day one.”

  Had it already been that long? Saturday, Sunday, Monday… Shit. It really had. “I’ve been busy,” she said again, focusing her attention on the cup of water she was gripping like a lifeline.

  “Well, people are asking me, like I’m somehow supposed to know. Which is funny, because normally I would, and they don’t seem to give a shit about the fact that you and I are no longer a thing.”

  “I’m sorry, Jordan.”

  “Don’t apologize. Just tell me what’s going on.”

  Why the hell should she? “Do I have to?”

  “Well, I would rather not force it out of you.”

  “Like you could.” Emma groaned and motioned Jordan around the counter. Anger coursed through her, but she had to remember that this was her best friend. She could tell him everything. “You’re going to give me so much shit.”

  “I will whether you tell me or not. Spill.” Jordan followed Emma into the kitchen.

  “You realize I had to go through this with Cyn once today already?”

  “That doesn’t make me feel any better. Since I am supposed to be your bestie.”

  Then, why were things freaking awkward between them now? “Fine. I’ve been spending time with Mason Covey.”

  “Who?”

  “The new teacher at Svelte.”

  Jordan closed his eyes and drew in a long slow breath. “You’re going to tell me you disappeared off the face of the planet for a guy?”

  Yeah. Like this. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Exactly what it sounds like. You’re alpha, Emma. The clan is a wreck and you’re out courting some import?”

  “Okay, that was low, even for you.” Emma slammed the bowl she’d been examining down on the counter. “For your information, I am not courting him. I’m fucking him. Not that it’s any of your business. You sound like Cheryl.”

  “I don’t give a shit who you fuck. I just thought that maybe you’d keep me in the loop and actually act like a damn alpha.”

  Emma flinched like she’d been slapped. “You aren’t my keeper,” she murmured. The front door chimed, and she hoped to god it was Cyn. She and Jordan didn’t fight, and she had no idea where the hell this had come from.

  “Emma?”

  It was Cyn. Emma forced a steadying breath. “In the kitchen.” She turned to Jordan. “Look, I don’t know where this came from, but I’m sorry for whatever I did. Okay? Now, you should go.”

  Jordan looked at her for a second, and Emma thought she saw a flash of regret before he turned and left, nearly hitting Cyn with the door as he hit it open.

  Emma turned away immediately, counting each breath to push back the burning in her eyes.

  Emma Elliot didn’t cry. In anger. Sadness. Happiness. She just didn’t do it.

  Yet, as she stood there, assaulted by her best friend, she felt like a dam had been loosed.

  Mal inched forward, hesitant. She let him, wrapping herself in his presence.

  “Everything okay, Emma?” Cyn set their lunch on the bake table.

  Emma clenched her eyes shut and ground her teeth. Then, she reached for her hostess smile and turned around. “Yeah.” No. “Everything’s good. What’s for lunch?”

  23

  Mason stared at the message on his phone. Slammed at work. Meet me at the cabin?

  He’d read it probably a hundred times, to the point Bones had quilled up the last couple of times in irritation. Emma had been gone when he woke up that morning. He hadn’t even stirred as far as he could tell. The last thing he remembered before his own alarm went off was pulling the pillows out from between them after Emma had fallen asleep. And he had gotten control over his manly intentions. He was honestly impressed with himself that he had been that ready to go after their times in the woods, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to complain.

  But, Mason was a gentleman. Even if being around Emma made him want to rip her clothes off and take her over and over and over again. He had tried, for a second, to remember the last woman he had been with. He gave up quickly. Because it didn’t matter. Emma was everything he could have possibly imagined, and he knew that no one could ever live up to what they had shared.

  Mason was sitting at his desk at Svelte. The kids had gone home, and he had just finished organizing tomorrow’s lesson plan. His second week at the school had gone better than the first, and he thought he might be starting to get the hang of trying to instill an education into a bunch of bullheaded paranormal kids. If a person could ever get the hang of that.

  He had collaborated with one of the other teachers to form an outdoor adventure for the kids where they could test their paranormal abilities while learning about nature. Mason was pretty impressed with himself for coming up with it. Of course, it could all go terribly wrong, but the community had defenses in place for things like that. At least that was what his collaborator had insisted.

  They had decided they only needed a couple extra patrols in the woods since they weren’t going very far from the school, and they hadn’t even had to ask for any volunteers. He wondered if Emma would be working. He hoped so.

  Mason took one last look at the message on his phone and then dropped it into his satchel. He really needed to get a new bag. He was starting to get looks when he had it over his shoulder. But he had been busy. It was on his list of things to do.

  Now, he had places to be. Like the grocery store and the florist. He didn’t know what Emma had planned for the night, other than discussing Bones. He didn’t’ really care what they did, as long as they were together. And while they were together, he was going to give her flowers and cook her dinner.

  Since they had skipped over the first date phase of their relationship—if they could even call it that—Mason planned to make up for it. It would have been easier if he had any idea what kind of food and flowers she liked.

  So, at the grocery store, he picked up a rainbow bundle of daisies—roses were too…intentioned—and everything he needed to make macaroni and cheese and hamburgers. Easy enough. And the woman at the checkout only looked at him a little strangely.

  While she rang things up, Mason focused Bones on her. They had been practicing all day on trying to distinguish mundanes and shifters. Which was really a moot point at a paranormal school, but he was getting good at recognizing shifters.

  The checker was mundane. He was pretty sure. Mason thanked her as he picked up his groceries and returned to his car. He pulled up the directions Emma had texted him, even though he had them memorized by this point, and put the car in gear.

  The drive to the cabin took about fifteen minutes, during which Mason had plenty of time to get himself completely worked up and nervous about seeing her again. Yesterday still didn’t feel real, and he was only partially convinced that he was going to show up to have the door slammed in his face. The thought was completely irrational, but damn. It had been so long since he had had a woman even pay attention to him—well, if that didn’t make him sound desperate.

  As he rolled into the driveway he spotted Emma sitting on the steps to the cabin. Mercifully, clothed. The cabin was small and tucked within a copse of trees. The front porch stretched the length of the front, but stopped without a railing. There were two small windows and the roof looked sturdy.

  Mason had barely pulled to a stop and Emma was next to the car. “You came.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Maybe he should have messaged her back…

  She answered him with a kiss.

  Mason dropped the grocery bag to the ground and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into him. They kissed until they had to breathe, their lungs giving out under the pressure of their lips together. There was a desperation in that kiss that set Mason back, and sent heat sprawling across his midriff.

  “Hello to you, too,” he said, kissing her on the forehead once before reaching back into his car to pick up the flowers.

  Emma’s eyes widened and then filled with tears.

  He panicked. “What
did I do? Are the flowers to much? I can take them back. Burn them. Emma, what is wrong?”

  She snatched them out of his hands and buried her face in them.

  Mason gaped at her, completely at a loss for what he should do.

  Especially when she pulled away the flowers and laughed. It was a choked sort of sound, and a little pathetic. But it was still a laugh.

  What had he done wrong? They were just flowers.

  She hit him on the chest with one fist. “Stupid porcupine.”

  Bones bristled.

  “I think you meant me, but you might want to clarify for Bones before he quills us both.”

  Emma spun around with a laugh, burying her face back in the flowers and walking back to the cabin.

  Mason just stood there for a second, trying to figure out what the hell that was all about. Then he reached down and picked up the bag of groceries to follow her.

  She left the door open, and he found her digging through cabinets looking for something to put the flowers in. Mason set the groceries on the counter took a seat at one of the tall stools. “So, is everything okay?”

  She plopped a mason jar—only a little ironic—on the counter and started digging through a drawer, emerging with a pair of archaic looking shears that were more than a little intimidating. Mason thought maybe he should have waited to ask her that. Emma cut the stems of the daisies in one shot, the shears making quick business of it, and dropped them into the jar.

  “Everything is fine.”

  “I don’t even slightly believe you.”

  Emma groaned. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

  “You say that a lot. Did you ever think that maybe it would help to talk about things? I’m no therapist, but I feel like the amount of shit you have gone through in the last week might be a little overwhelming.”

  “You don’t know.”

  “Obviously.”

  Emma scooted the jar towards her on the counter and buried her face in the flowers again. Mason wasn’t sure if it was because she was that thrilled to have them, or if she was trying to hide his face from her. He guessed it was probably the second option.