The Way to a Bear's Heart

by Ophelia Bell

  Nessa let out a long sigh. “You got that right. I always loved spending summers here. I don’t know why, but these mountains feel more like home than the hills to the south. Now lead on and tell me more about your plans.”

  They made their way through the house, which was little more than a construction zone. It was quiet at the moment, but smelled like sawdust and plaster.

  “Work crews are due to start on the living area tomorrow,” Ignazio said. “Gaius should be meeting us here a little later to take a look at the kitchen with you.”

  “Gaius. He’s the master builder you hired to do the kitchen?”

  “Well, the whole house, but kitchens are his specialty, so he’s seeing to that part personally. It’s your kitchen, Nessa. I meant it when I said you can have it any way you want it. You’re the best, so you should have the best.”

  Her kitchen. Nessa chewed on her lip, barely containing the excitement. But when they headed down to the ground floor and through the doors to the room she remembered most fondly, something bothered her.

  It was still the same well-worn kitchen. The ancient stove and ovens carried the patina of age and many meals filled with love. She’d acquired her love of the alchemy of flavors here. Mixing spices in the best savory combinations and crafting sweets that were sure to earn the Karstens’ praises. But it was darker than she remembered, and smaller somehow. After seeing Ignazio’s plans for the rest of the house, this little space didn’t fit.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “How much flexibility do you have on the plan?”

  “A little . . .” he said cautiously.

  “Humor me for a few,” she said. “Come on.”

  Nessa led him back out the door, past the training gym that was arguably the closest room to being finished in the entire house, and up the stairs to the back of the house. The rear gardens stretched the entire length of the back of the big house, with the small cottage at one end where she and her parents had spent summers when she was growing up. Her dad had kept a small herb garden near the cottage, while the rest of the gardens were populated by colorful and mostly ornamental foliage.

  She stopped in the middle of the garden and smiled at Ignazio’s perplexed look.

  “You said I had carte blanche, right?”

  “Yeah . . .” he said with a cautious drawl. “What are you thinking?”

  She took a deep breath and was about to explain her wishes for the kitchen and the garden when a burst of raucous laughter echoed through the rear of the house.

  Ignazio’s head jerked around and he looked back at her, holding up a hand. “Hold that thought.”

  Nessa huffed and pressed her lips together. She followed Ignazio to the stretch of glass-paneled doors that lined the rear of the house and what had once been a formal dining room. A pair of shadowy figures were inside, engaged in animated conversation, their deep voices echoing through the empty interior of the house.

  Her eyes lit up when she recognized one of the men, and she bounced on her heels in excitement.

  “Bryer Vargas, is that you?” she called as Ignazio’s Arena partner stepped through the door.

  His blue eyes lit up as she bounded into his embrace. “Hey, sexy lady,” he said, laughing into her hair and holding her tight.

  She slid back to the ground, holding Bryer at arm’s length and looking him over with a serious expression. After a second, she nodded. “Yep, you are definitely in need of some good home-cooking. What’ve you been living on lately? Bread and water?”

  “You got me, Nessa. I just have no appetite for anything but your delicious treats.” His grin turned distinctly wicked as his gaze traveled down her ample curves.

  Nessa rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop it. You know I’m not going to fall for your charms, Bry. I’d just wind up a notch in your bedpost for your stupid bet. Besides, you know once you had a taste, you’d be as addicted as you are to my cooking, and far be it from me to deprive all your fans of your sexy behind.”

  Ignazio let out a bark of laughter. “He also knows I’d kick his ass if he touched you. Seriously, dude, she just got here.”

  Bryer held up his hands. “I surrender. Just glad you’re here, sweet Nessa.” He rubbed his hands together greedily. “So, when’s dinner?”

  “No food until after we hear her plans for the kitchen. You guys have perfect timing, though. Nessa, this is Gaius Osborn, the builder I was telling you about. He’s an old friend.”

  The big man standing at Bryer’s side seemed to fill her entire field of vision then. For a moment, Nessa was sure time had stopped, and it left her feeling off balance. He had a mop of wild, thick dark hair shot through with silver, and blue eyes nearly as vibrant as Bryer’s. His cheeks and chin were covered in a close-cut beard that framed full lips and was similarly peppered with silver strands.

  And he was huge. Easily the biggest bear shifter she’d ever seen, he towered over both her friends, who weren’t small men by any means.

  He looked wary as he held out his hand for her to shake. “You must be this master chef Ig’s been goin’ on about. So, let’s hear your crazy plan.”

  She took his hand, which engulfed hers in warmth that was at odds with the cool stare he gave her. Confused by the contradictory messages, she shrugged and shook her head, trying to clear it of that odd sensation that had come over her a moment earlier.

  “I don’t think it’s crazy at all,” she said. “The garden is where I want to start, actually. The ornamentals are pretty, but a bit of a waste. I want to fill this entire space with culinary plants. Herbs, flowers, fruit trees, everything. It’ll be functional and ornamental by the time I’m done with it.” She spun around once in the garden to take it in, and then darted a look up at Gaius. His gaze snapped away abruptly and his scowl deepened.

  “Sounds lovely,” Ignazio said. “I have a landscape designer available to do whatever you wish.”

  “If it’s all right, I’d like to do a lot of it myself. I’ve kind of always loved this part of the property. It means a lot to me to have a hand in the actual work. Adds to the alchemy of the dishes if I grow the ingredients myself.”

  “Fair enough. You’re the boss,” Ignazio said. “And the kitchen? Shall we head down there next?”

  She stopped in front of the row of doors and turned to face the trio. Gaius tensed. What the hell was up with the guy? She’d have thought he expected her to fire him and declare she wanted to do that job herself too.

  “Actually, we’re there,” she said.

  Ignazio and Bryer both lifted their eyebrows, as though waiting for the punch line. Gaius’ eyes widened for a split second before his lips tightened and tilted into a distinct frown.

  “Ah . . . where, exactly?” Ig asked.

  “The kitchen! It should be the heart of the home, and that . . .” She pointed into the house just past the doors. “. . . is right in there. You have to admit the formal dinners your parents threw were always boring as all get out. I think you should repurpose this part of the house. Move the kitchen here, next to the garden. Keep a less formal dining room in the center of the house with a view of the lake.”

  She paused and absorbed the variety of expressions on the three men. Ignazio rubbed his chin thoughtfully and nodded. Bryer licked his lips, clearly thinking about his next meal—the man was as transparent as they came.

  Gaius, however, looked like he was having trouble holding something in. He practically glared at her, hard enough her hackles rose.

  “What?” she asked, facing him and putting her hands on her hips. “Do you have a better plan, Mr. Superstar Builder?”

  Gaius grunted and crossed his arms. “Move the kitchen up here, huh? Do you have any idea what kind of impact that’ll have on the design for the rest of the house? Plumbing’ll have to be rerouted, electrical reconfigured, not to mention the rearranging of the existing layout. Could have a domino effect on the whole damn thing. Don’t even want to get into the delays that could cause.”

 
Ignazio clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’re up to it, old buddy. Whatever Nessa wants for this kitchen, she gets. Trust me, she’s worth it. Now, I will leave you two to go over the details. Bry and I need to discuss the new rehab center we want to put in down by the training gym.”

  With that, the pair were off, leaving Nessa and Gaius staring each other down.

  She refused to be intimidated by the big guy. This was her dream at stake, and Ignazio had been gracious enough to allow her the freedom to do it right. There was no way in hell she’d let one big, surly shifter ruin it for her.

  “You look like a bear who takes eating seriously,” she said after taking his measure. He wasn’t fat by any means, but a bear as big as he was didn’t stay as fit and deliciously ripped without a generous diet.

  Again with the grunting as he stared her down. “What of it?”

  “I just think you should appreciate the value a good kitchen design has on the creation of a meal. I’m cooking for dragons. A flexible workspace is going to be necessary.”

  “Never said I didn’t know what goes into a proper kitchen,” he said, still stoically regarding her.

  Exasperated, she turned on her heel and walked toward the doors. “Well, at least humor me and let me tell you my ideas. Feel free to shoot them down. You are the best . . . allegedly.” She muttered the last word under her breath as she walked into the bare, sunlit space.

  One of the reasons she loved this space was the morning sun that shone in through the wall of glass doors. The wood-framed panes cast crisscrossing shadows along the floor, creating a grid that made it even easier for her to demonstrate her vision.

  Halfway through explaining the arrangement of stove, countertops, and pantry, she glanced up to see Gaius staring off into space beyond the doors.

  “Are you listening to me? This is where the pantry needs to go. And the cooler will be accessible from inside.”

  “I hear ya,” Gaius said without looking at her. “But that old stove downstairs is going to look mighty out of place in the layout you want, all stainless steel and white tile.”

  She stared at him, her mouth hanging open for a moment. The old stove. Her father’s old kitchen. Hesitantly, she shook her head. “It’ll work.” Darting her gaze around the space, she tried to rearrange her plan in her mind to make room for the old equipment she loved so much.

  Without looking back, she turned and headed out into the vast, empty house and down the back stairs to the old kitchen. Her gut churned with uncertainty. She’d been so gung-ho about her new dream kitchen that she’d forgotten to make room in it for the old one.

  She pushed through the swinging doors into the old space, and the comforting scents washed over her anew. All her father’s favorite spices brought back memories of helping him prepare meals for the Karstens over the years. But Gaius was right; none of the pieces of equipment in here fit her vision of the new kitchen. She’d spent many sleepless nights since Ignazio’s suggestion that she take her father’s place looking at catalogs of kitchen equipment. She had her heart set on new, top-of-the-line pieces, and couldn’t get the image out of her head of the finished kitchen, all gleaming stainless steel and white tile lit up by the morning sun as she started her day.

  Her father’s stove, with its worn enamel, copper accents, and ancient gauges and knobs, belonged in another era, even if it was still fully functional.

  She sensed the big bear come through the doors and stop. He stood quietly, looking around with a serene expression. When he met her gaze, his brows lifted. “It’s not the end of the world,” he said. “You still gotta cook while I’m fitting out the new kitchen anyway, right? Though it’ll be a shame to see this torn down at the end.”

  He wandered to the far end of the kitchen and hit a button, summoning the clanking old dumbwaiter that had delivered the meals to the floor above. He grunted in amusement as the doors opened. “Don’t make ‘em like they used to,” he said softly.

  Having lost her enthusiasm for the planning, she sat on a stool and sighed. “I grew up in this kitchen, you know.”

  Gaius came around the big chopping block island and rapped his knuckles on it, then bent down and eyed the surface appreciatively. He made a gruff sound of interest and looked up at her.

  “I learned to cook here,” she continued. “And in the kitchen at the Karstens’ estate in the south. But this was always my favorite place. They had the best parties during the summer seasons here.”

  “Off-season,” Gaius said, nodding. “Well, for Champions, at least. Karstens always did know how to throw a party.”

  “Were you a fan?” Nessa asked, remembering that Ignazio had introduced Gaius as an old friend.

  His brows twitched. “You could say that.” Standing up, he added, “Well, I think I’ve got enough to get started. You enjoy the memories. This place is sure thick with them.”

  Before she could respond, he’d turned and walked back through the doors, his shoulders practically brushing both sides of the doorjamb.

  Nessa sat in the silence for several minutes, simply absorbing the atmosphere and letting all those old memories wash over her. New was good . . . she knew that. If she was going to start her own life, she needed to do it on her terms. As much as she had learned working beside her father, she had no intention of becoming his clone. She had her own recipes along with old favorites, and had always loved adding her own twist to things. This was no different.

  With a sigh, she slid off the stool and shifted gears. She still had work to do. Ignazio hadn’t hired her to sit on her butt and feel maudlin all day. After she finished their midday meal, she’d go up and start mapping out a plan for the garden.

  3

  Gaius winced at the pain in his knees, the old arena combat injury warning that hot, humid weather was coming. Funny thing was he’d felt no pain for the last hour while Nessa was going on about her kitchen. All he’d felt then was irritation at having a spitfire of a young woman telling him how to build a damn kitchen.

  She’d had such dreamy light in her eyes as she bounced through the big, empty space. She practically danced from imaginary stove to imaginary counter, waving her graceful hands and describing the whole place in such vivid detail he could easily picture it himself.

  That annoyed him too. She couldn’t have known he already intended to suggest Ig move the kitchen and was dreading the wrangling he’d have to do to get the stubborn dragon shifter to see reason. Yet there waltzed in this pretty little bear who clearly had both the Hot Wings boys wrapped around her little finger, and all she had to do was smile that sweet, dimply smile and Ig caved.

  He snorted as he pulled out the plans and unfurled them across a makeshift table he’d set up in the center of the empty space that’d soon be Nessa’s dream kitchen. She had a good sense of space, that was for sure. Everything she’d described had been more or less how he’d imagined the place looking, only nicer, he had to admit. Pity that her old man’s kitchen wouldn’t fit. He already knew once the new kitchen was built, the old one would likely wind up recycled for raw materials. Ig wanted a new rehab center down there and the old kitchen’s location was ideal.

  He eyeballed the updated plans, making little tweaks here and there. It was far less complicated than he’d let on, and the plans for the rest of the house somehow flowed effortlessly out of that central hub.

  His nose twitched and his stomach rumbled. Some delicious aroma had started to fill the room, and he lifted his head to stare at the old dumbwaiter on the far wall where the scent was emanating from.

  With a growl of frustration, he packed up the plans and left. It was tricky enough having her on his mind when he was working; the distraction of her cooking would do him no good. He wasn’t due to start work until the next day and could make the rest of his calls from home.

  Home. Such as it was.

  He parked his little solo transport in the gravel driveway and stared up at the skeleton framework of the house he’d started almost a year ago a
nd had yet to finish. The empty window frames stared back accusingly and he grumbled as he stalked past to the outdoor kitchen he’d constructed on his deck. The outer deck and frame of the house was more or less complete, but the interior was something he had lacked the necessary motivation to finish.

  Once he’d thrown together a cold lunch, he grabbed his communicator and stared at it while he chewed. He scrolled down, searching for the number of the building supplier. Gerri Wilder’s name popped up on the little screen and his finger itched to call. It wasn’t because he was desperate. He’d only been retired from the Arena League for two seasons. After decades of single life, he was in no hurry to settle down. Being a bachelor suited him just fine.

  Yet he’d given Gerri his info the very day of his retirement, then bought this land and started constructing this house the following week. The house that he intended for his eventual mate.

  He growled and tossed his communicator aside. She’d call when she found someone. If she found someone.

  Resolving to make his calls before dinner, Gaius dug into his meal, enjoying the cold spiced meat sandwich and the spectacular midday view—his own little piece of paradise in the mountains of Nova Aurora.

  But for some reason that afternoon, the usually comforting solitude felt more like exile. After a leisurely shower under the nearby waterfall followed by a long soak in his swimming hole, he still couldn’t shake the sense of loneliness.

  Later, as he climbed into the hammock strung between two posts on his front porch where he could see the stars, he couldn’t stop picturing Nessa’s troubled frown as she stared wistfully around the old kitchen. And instead of falling asleep to the sight of moonrise, he drifted off with the first image he’d had of her that day, spinning around in the garden among the flowers like some fertility goddess.

  4

  The next morning, Nessa served breakfast in the same spot where the prior two meals had been served: on the outdoor dining table that had been moved down from the deck to the patio outside Ignazio’s training gym. It made sense in the interim to have meals served there, since the house was a disaster area and its owner spent the majority of his time in his gym during the off-season, anyway.