A Very Beary Christmas Page 6

  As if I hadn’t already figured out what a wonderful man he was.

  “How are you holding up?” Sam asked as we walked back to his cabin later that evening.

  The cold air felt good against my skin. It had started to snow again, and I lifted my face upward to catch a few flakes on my tongue.

  “Great,” I told him honestly. “Though I don’t think I’ll be eating again for a week.”

  He laughed, a rich, warm sound. “We tend to be hearty eaters.”

  “So I’ve noticed.”

  He opened the door to his cabin, and when we went inside, it felt like coming home.

  “We’ve still got a few hours before it’s officially Christmas. What would you like to do?”

  Once again, wholly inappropriate images assaulted my mind and laid siege. Some, like before, involved Sam’s big bed. Others included that down-filled comforter of his in front of the stone hearth. All made my heart pound and my body overheat. None were going to happen.

  When his eyes flashed as if he could read my mind, I considered the possibility that he might not be wholly averse to the idea. Nevertheless, I had already decided how I would be spending the night.

  “I’m really tired,” I said, feigning a yawn. “I think I’m just going to turn in, if it’s all right with you.”

  Sam blinked, and the heat I had seen flaring in his eyes only a moment earlier changed to disappointment, then acceptance. “Of course. But don’t be surprised when I bang on the door at dawn. It is Christmas, you know.”

  I laughed. “You’re like a little kid.”

  He grinned. “Everyone’s a kid on Christmas. Goodnight, Chloe.”

  “Goodnight, Sam.”

  I closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling heavily. I hated leaving him out in the living room all alone, and I hated disappointing him even more, but I was working on a tight deadline here. If I wanted my surprise to be under the tree by the time he woke up, I had to get moving.

  I pulled out my paints and got to work.

  Dawn was just breaking over the horizon when I finished. I was exhausted, but mostly pleased. Something just wasn’t right, though, but exactly what that was eluded me. Maybe it would come to me later and I could fix it. For now, I was out of time.

  I hoped he liked it.

  The idea had come to me while we were up at the lodge. I had been surprised to see that Sam had taken some of my canvases and put them up. He was so proud, boasting to anyone who would listen that I had done them.

  I stood back and looked at my latest creation and smiled. My grizzly was there, like always, regal and magnificent in his natural surroundings. Only, he wasn’t alone this time. A woman stood with him, nuzzling her head against his neck. They looked good together. Content. Happy.

  Opening the door a crack, I peeped out. Sam was curled up on the oversized couch, but I didn’t need to see him in order to hear him. His rumbling snores had provided a pleasant background music for me to paint by throughout most of the night.

  I snuck out into the living room and hid the painting on the far side of the tree, out of sight. Turning around, I paused to appreciate the view.

  A blanket covered Sam from the waist down, his top half bare. Tawny skin stretched over sculpted muscles, dusted with a slightly darker shade of golden-brown hair than appeared on his head. If there was a finer-looking man anywhere, I had never seen him.

  A mischievous spark ignited from somewhere deep, and for a moment, I seriously considered launching myself onto his sleeping form and yelling, “Merry Christmas!” I refrained, though.

  While I might think about doing things like that, they required a self-confidence and spontaneity I lacked. Instead, I tiptoed back into the bedroom, closed the door, and crawled into bed.

  Chapter 13

  Sam

  I felt her gaze as acutely as if she had been touching me. My bear roused in interest, though I kept my eyes closed and my breathing even.

  She stayed there for a few moments, then went back into the bedroom and closed the door.

  Part of me had been hoping she would curl up on the sofa with me. An even larger part had hoped she would invite me into the bed with her. Neither had happened, and I had the stiff back and neck to prove it. Knowing that she was so near, scenting her in my space, made some other things pretty stiff, as well.

  I waited until I heard her soft snores begin to rise. I chuckled, thinking that, with a snore like that, she would make a good bear.

  I took care of business, including a quick shower and shave, then started the coffee. Her wake-up call was going to include hot coffee, fresh-squeezed juice, and an assortment of honey-iced pastries. Perhaps someday I would work up the courage to surprise her with something advanced like an omelet, but I didn’t want to scare her off with my lack of culinary abilities just yet.

  By mid-morning, there was still no sign of Chloe, and my bear was pacing impatiently. I had finished off the first pot of coffee and was brewing a second fresh pot when my cell phone vibrated.

  “Well?” my mother asked without preamble.

  I laughed. “Merry Christmas to you, too, Mom. And I haven’t given it to her yet.”

  “Why not?” she huffed. In the background, it could hear my nieces and nephews squealing and growling as they played with their presents. No doubt they had been up very early.

  “She’s still sleeping. She was up all night painting,” I explained.

  My eyes darted over to the canvas she had hidden behind the tree. My innate curiosity had gotten the better of me and I had checked it out. It was a picture of the two of us. Well, sort of. It was me in grizzly form, which she didn’t yet know about, and her. In the picture, she had her arms around the bear and her head buried in his neck. It had taken my breath away.

  “Make sure you bring her up for Christmas dinner at three. The little ones should be tuckered out by then. I hope. I swear, the rascals stayed up all night hoping to get a glimpse of Santa. Your father had to be extra stealthy this year.”

  I smiled, remembering the days when I would do the same, wondering if Santa had received my letter and hoping whatever hi-jinx I had gotten into during the year hadn’t landed me on the Naughty List. I also remembered another letter to Santa, one not written by me, but by Chloe, all those years ago. It was a little late in coming, but this year, I was going to make her Christmas wish come true.

  When I finally heard her up and moving, I got off the phone with my mom and bolted over to the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee. Unfortunately, she emerged from the bedroom before I could make it over there with the tray, looking adorably sleepy and tousled in flannel PJs covered in faded teddy bears.

  “Merry Christmas,” she said. I swear my heart skipped a few beats.

  “Merry Christmas. Now back in bed,” I commanded.

  “What? Why?”

  “Because it’s Christmas, and I wanted to bring you breakfast in bed.”

  Her features softened as she looked at me with those big brown eyes. “I don’t want to go back to bed. I want to eat breakfast with you in here by the Christmas tree.”

  I huffed, but inside, my heart was soaring. “If you insist.”

  “I do.”

  I followed her like an obedient cub, waiting until she got situated on the sofa, covering her legs with a throw, before I placed the tray in her lap. She then patted the area next to her in invitation and I joined her.

  “I thought you were going to wake me up at dawn,” she said, picking up a honey bun and holding it out for me to take the first bite. I did, deliberately allowing my lips to brush her fingers. She blushed, and I didn’t miss the slight hitch in her breath.

  “I was, but I figured you needed your sleep.”

  “That was very thoughtful of you.”

  “I’m a thoughtful guy,” I said, nudging her shoulder with mine.

  “Yes,” she agreed softly, “you are.”

  “It’s easy to be with you, Chloe.”

  I had heard people talk
about certain moments in their lives when something changed, and I knew this was one of those moments. When she looked right into my eyes, I felt it in my very soul. The energy between us shifted, growing stronger, deeper. As her eyes widened, I knew then that she felt it, too.

  “Chloe ...”

  She lowered her gaze shyly, then abruptly sat up when she spotted what I had left for her under the tree. “Oh my God. Is that ...?”

  “Rufus?” I finished. “Yes.”

  Both hands came up to her mouth.

  I got up and grabbed the bear, putting it in her lap.

  My mother had worked her magic on that ratty old thing in the days following Chloe’s disappearance, wanting it to be ready for her when—if—she returned. His seams had been mended, the missing eye replaced, and the matted fur had been washed and brushed until it looked like new. The result was a far improved version of the ratty thing Chloe had left behind.

  She hugged him to her chest, and I irrationally felt a pang of jealousy.

  “I can’t believe you kept him.”

  “He’s been waiting for you to come back, Chloe. We all have.”

  She blinked, her eyes already shining with unshed tears.

  “I made you something,” she blurted out suddenly, then got up, looking adorably anxious. She went over to the tree and pulled out the painting I had been ogling earlier. “Do you like it?”

  I set the tray aside and stood up. “I love it,” I told her honestly. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her that I loved her, too, but I didn’t. I needed to tell her the truth before I just blurted that out. “Tell me something, Chloe. Why do you always include that bear in your paintings?”

  Her gaze drifted downward, and she bit her lip.

  I moved closer. “Why, Chloe?”

  “Because he reminds me of you,” she said quietly. “It’s weird, I know. But I have these dreams ...” She broke off and cleared her throat.

  “What dreams?” I prompted.

  “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

  I took the canvas from her hands and propped it against the sofa. Then I took both her hands in mine and led her back to the couch. When she tried to sit beside me, I tugged her onto my lap. She was hesitant at first, then she melted against me. It felt good—holding her like this.

  “Try me.”

  “I have these dreams. Some of them are about stuff that happened when I was a kid. Others are more recent. In all of them, though, I’m in some kind of trouble and this bear, the one in my paintings, comes to help me. Weird, huh?”

  I didn’t think it was weird at all. As her mate, it was only natural that her subconscious would manifest me in some form when she felt threatened or afraid.

  “How does he help you?” I asked, lightly stroking her arm.

  “He protects me,” she said quietly. “If someone’s hurting me, he destroys them. If I’m cold or frightened or feeling lonely, he pulls me into his arms and holds me until I feel better. But that’s not even the strangest thing.”

  “Oh?”

  “No.”

  “What is, then?”

  She hesitated. “The bear isn’t a real bear at all. In my dreams, the bear is you.”

  Chapter 14

  Chloe

  I waited for Sam’s laugh, or worse, like some expression of disbelief, but neither came. Instead, he continued to hold me, his large, rough paws—I mean, his hands—making gentle strokes on my arm.

  Minutes passed by with only the crackling of the fire breaking the silence.

  “Say something,” I whispered.

  “You’re not crazy, Chloe.”

  “No? If I’m not crazy, then what am I?”

  “Perceptive. Intuitive.” He slid me gently from his lap and stood, scratching the back of his neck while pacing in front of me. “Chloe, what do you know about shifters?”

  I blinked, sure I had heard him wrong. “Shifters? You mean people who can turn into animals and back again?”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “I know they’re fantasies crafted by gifted storytellers to sell books and movies. They’re not real.” Unfortunately, I added silently.

  Sam came over to the couch and knelt in front of me. Taking both my hands in his, I looked into his eyes and was stricken by what I saw there. Concern. Worry. Was Sam changing his stance on my mental stability? Did he think I believed in shifters? I know some people did, mostly people like Mr. O’Malley who had lived around the mountains his whole life and swore he had seen his share of things he couldn’t explain. But outside of my dreams, they didn’t exist.

  “What if they were?” Sam pressed.

  “I think that would be wonderful,” I whispered. “To be able to change into something else, something bigger and stronger. I would envy them that.”

  “Chloe, shifters do exist. They have for thousands of years, if not longer. They live among humans, work with them, marry them, and have families.”

  My heart started pounding as my mind leapt ahead, conjuring the possibilities of where he was going with all this. “And how do you know this?”

  “Because I am one, Chloe.”

  Part of me wanted to lash out at him for making fun of me and my soulful confession. Another part felt the truth of his words resounding deep within my heart and soul. His voice and the expression on his face were serious, earnest.

  “Show me,” I tested.

  He inhaled deeply, then nodded. He stood and backed away from me, positioning himself behind the kitchen island. Sam started disrobing, and the sight of his bare chest once again made my core heat and my mouth go dry. I could only see him from the waist up, which was probably a good thing. If I caught a glimpse of what was below that counter, I was fairly certain I would go into some kind of nuclear-core, hyper-lust meltdown.

  “Don’t freak out, okay?” he warned. “I’m always in complete control. I’m still me. I’ll just be a little ... furrier.”

  Unable to speak, I nodded. Then I watched in fascination as Sam’s bones began to pop and rearrange themselves. His muscles grew larger, expanding outward, even as a thick coat of brown fur tipped in gold covered his skin. In less than a minute, the largest grizzly I had ever seen was peering uncertainly over the island at me.

  I should have been terrified—I was in a cabin with a bear, a huge bear—but I wasn’t. Excited, in awe, breathless, yes. But in no way scared.

  “Come out from behind there and let me see you.”

  The bear ambled out, his movements slow and controlled. On four legs, he stood nearly as tall as Sam stood on two, and almost as wide. His head alone was half my size. If he opened that powerful maw, he could probably devour me in two bites.

  “Sam?”

  The bear chuffed, then sat down with a plop in the center of the room. He reached down with his massive front paws and began to play with his toes. For some reason, that seemed a very bear-like thing to do and it made me smile.

  “It’s really you, isn’t it?”

  He chuffed again and nodded.

  I approached with small, cautious steps until I stood right in front of him and looked directly into familiar golden-brown eyes. Intelligent eyes, filled with hope.

  Then I launched myself at him.

  He caught me easily, wrapping those huge paws around me until I all but disappeared. I nuzzled my face in his fur, breathing in the scent of my Sam, my wonderful Sam.

  And then I cried.

  I squeezed my eyes tightly and sobbed as relief and wonder overwhelmed me. I wasn’t crazy. The bear in my dreams really was Sam. I think some part of me had always known that, but to have it confirmed, to know it was real, that he was real, was axis-tilting.

  I was barely aware of Sam shifting back into human form until he spoke into my ear. “Shhh, Chloe, please don’t cry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  I sniffed and leaned back to look at his face, confused. “Why are you sorry?”

  “I scared you. I made you cry.”

  I hiccupped
out a laugh. “I’m not crying because I’m afraid, Sam. I’m crying because I’m so incredibly happy.”

  “You are?” he asked doubtfully.

  “Yes, Sam. You’re my bear.”

  “Yes, Chloe. I’m your bear. I’m yours, Chloe, and I always have been.”

  I felt his words deep in my heart, resonating throughout me like a divine chime. Our eyes remained locked on each other’s, even as our heads drew closer until our lips touched. Fireworks exploded in my soul, my mind became euphoric, and the blood sang in my veins.

  Sam’s lips brushed mine once, then twice, before he deepened the kiss. I parted willingly, inviting him further, teasing his tongue with my own. Unable to get close enough, I wound my arms tighter around his neck and pressed my body against his.

  I had no idea how long our first kiss lasted. It could have been seconds. It could have been hours. All I knew was, by the time Sam broke away, I wasn’t the same person anymore.

  “Chloe.” His voice was rough and husky, and only then did I realize that he was naked ... and aroused. A thin layer of flannel was the only thing that kept that extremely large, extremely hard part of him from the part of me now wet and aching. “Let me get dressed,” he rasped, gently untangling my arms from around his neck, “and then we can talk.”

  Talk? I didn’t want to talk. What I wanted was far more carnal. I didn’t want to let him go.

  I think I growled.

  When Sam arched an eyebrow, I felt heat rush to my cheeks.

  “Sorry, I don’t know where that came from.”

  His lips curved up at the corners, and he flexed his hands around my waist as he lifted me off his lap. “That’s part of what we need to talk about.”

  Chapter 15

  Sam

  Chloe was handling things better than I had hoped. Not only had she accepted that shifters were real, but she seemed relieved, happy, even, that I was one. That was a good start, but we still had a long way to go.