Page 8

lark. lark bird.

. . .

gideon

I spent the first two hours of my front desk shift at the lodge checking people in with my laziest impression of Callum and fixing the broken lock system in the one out-of-service room.

My oldest sister had left a request to do whatever it took to find a room for some tourist without a reservation who’d helped Wabby with his homework.

Her name was Lark. Lark Bird, of all things. Probably some Vancouver hipster kid. But I’d been meaning to fix the door anyway.

My phone buzzed with Cal’s special tone just as I finished up. Probably yet another message about me needing to crash in the mayor’s room because he was bringing some tourist back to ours.

Swear, more out-of-towners had seen the inside of the Ayaska Village’s sacred cave dens thanks to Cal than any other Bear Mountain resident.

I didn’t want to say he was giving outsiders a bad (and horny) reputation, but he definitely wasn’t helping the chances of anyone else from Bear Mountain Proper hoping to be invited into a maul.

Also, sleeping in the mayor’s room wasn’t ideal. He was due back from Victoria early tomorrow morning after all the secret meetings he was required to take on top of doing his human-facing MLA job. I’d have to get up even earlier to launder his sheets and erase all traces of me having slept there.

Sleeping in another bear’s den—especially when he wasn’t there—was considered a no-no, bordering on unethical, by our kind.

Like the bear version of Goldilocks. And I didn’t feel like dealing with it after a long day of helping Sarah’s husbands string Christmas lights, even though it took until around nine p.m. for the sun to go down on late-summer nights.

Knowing I’d be texting back “No,” I put off answering until I’d cleaned up my new-lock mess.

But just as I pulled out my phone after stepping back behind the front desk, the exterior door chime sounded.

And the smell of honey hit my nose.

Later, I wouldn’t be able to tell you what came first—my dick getting hard for the first time in forever or my first sight of her when I looked up from the phone.

Either way…

Either way…

Either fucking way…

From the moment our eyes met, all that I don’t care if we find a mate or not shit was done.

Ours!!!

My bear roared inside me, even as I stood there, frozen, while the woman I already knew would become our wife walked toward me in what felt like slow motion.

She had long, curly hair and skin just a smidge darker than the local wildflower honey Cody insisted on using exclusively, even though it cost five times what we could get wholesale from Barrington’s.

She wasn’t just pretty. She was the prettiest little thing that had ever walked the Earth. And she wore a Tegan and Sara portrait tee under her yellow cardigan.

Suddenly, I remembered life before JTBF.

Hating my brother’s stupid vintage hair metal obsession…

Drowning it out with angsty indie artists like Feist, Bright Eyes, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs—and my favorite duo of all time, Tegan and her identical twin Sara.

They always seemed to understand heartbreak and relationship doom in a way I never could.

That not-afraid-to-feel boy had disappeared by my third black-ops mission.

But somehow he was back now, staring open-mouthed at the human who smelled like honey.

“Hi,” she said, like she was just a normal person walking in off the street. “I’m Lark. Lark Bird.”

I stared at her. I couldn’t stop.

“I think Sarah Baerlow said she’d leave a note for you about possibly getting me a room? Please…?”

She trailed off and averted her eyes. Probably because I was ogling her like a fucking creep who’d never seen a woman before.

But that’s what it felt like.

Like I’d been blind to every other female. Like I hadn’t seen a single curve, or a pair of full lips, or big, brown doe eyes behind glasses… until this perfect woman walked through the door.

My head suddenly snapped up. New scents!

On the other side of the lobby, a few lodgers were heading toward the exterior doors. My fists clenched at my sides when I saw it was a group of guys. Probably in their early twenties. The Christmas Festival had gained a reputation as wholesome fun for families—and a hookup fest for everybody else.

Probably because there was absolutely nothing to do in Bear Mountain at night but drink at the town’s only bar, unless you wanted to get eaten alive by mosquitoes after dusk.

The guys were probably headed to the bar. Not a threat to our mate.

But I stayed on alert until they were fully out the door. Protecting Lark—that was my job now. And I wouldn’t let myself fuck it up.

“I’m not sure how to address the fact that you’re not answering me,” our mate mumbled, bringing my attention back to her. “But I don’t want to assume anything. Is… everything alright?”

A wary look had entered her expression. I didn’t like it. I didn’t want her to be scared of me.

The hard-on I hadn’t experienced in years throbbed as I scrambled to put on my Callum mask.

“Hey, sorry,” I said, like he would if he’d been called out. “Let me check on that room.”

And by check, I meant grab the long-winded Post-it Sarah had left about needing a room for the guest who’d done Wabby a solid… and toss it where it belonged.

In the waste can. I would have swallowed it if she wasn’t watching.

I wanted to swallow the paper to risk her ever finding out. But I wanted to swallow her more.

So, instead of letting on that I was a psycho, I clacked on the keyboard and pretended to check on the room.

“Sorry,” I said in my friendly Cal voice. “There’s nothing available. Everybody’s all checked in, and we’re at capacity.”

Her face fell. And I hated myself for causing her even a moment of pain. But not as much as I hated the thought of her staying in this hotel—over a kilometer from our cave den—where I couldn’t see her, protect her, make sure she had everything she needed.

I so badly wanted to circle around the desk and just tell her she was coming home with me. But that would be psycho—and scary for her.

So I made myself wait. Wait for her to say she didn’t know what she was going to do at nine twenty-three p.m. without a room.

She sighed, her shoulders sinking. And my heart thrummed, my hopes rising. C’mon … I just needed her to give me one excuse to offer the extra room in our totem cave den.

“Oh, well.” She looked down at her feet. “I guess I got lucky that guy at the bar offered to host me at his place tonight. May I have my suitcase?”

Everything inside me went deadly still. “ What guy?”

I didn’t realize I’d said that out loud until she fretted her hands and answered, “Oh wow, this is actually embarrassing. I was so busy scarfing down the steak dinner he bought me, I didn’t catch his name.”

Of course…

Of course , some nameless bearhole had already sniffed my mate out. Bought her dinner. Probably imprinted on her. She smelled like fucking honey. What bear wouldn’t?—

“So… my suitcase?” she asked again, tone careful.

That weirded-out look was back.

Okay, don’t spiral, you fucking psycho. Think! Think!

“Hey, how about this…?” I grabbed the handle of the bright-yellow suitcase Sarah had parked behind the front desk. She could never be bothered with the tag system, no matter how many times I reminded her we’d be liable if anyone’s stuff got stolen.

“I’m about to close up, and the sun’s set. So I’ll walk you back to the bar.” And beat this piece of shit who thinks you’re going home with him into the ground if he doesn’t back away from my mate, I silently add.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that!”

I pretended I didn’t hear her as I clicked off the front desk light and put the explanatory plaque about reception returning at ten a.m. next to the five-dollar coupons for the Bear Mountain Bar & Grill.

The whole time, I held on to her small roller board. I wouldn’t let it go.

Not until it was in our den, where it belonged.

Where she belonged.

Without waiting for her agreement, I headed for the door, giving her no choice but to follow after me.

Fuck , I hated taking my eyes off her. But I had to at least pretend this wasn’t the beginning stage of a kidnapping.

“Okay, well, it looks like you’re pretty eager to do me this kindness,” she muttered. “So… I’ll just say thank you.”

“No problem,” I answered in my most easygoing Callum voice.

Thank the fucking Great Bear for my twin.

One, I’d matched him in a plaid button-up and jeans just loose enough to hide my erection. And two, pretending to be him made it easier to strike up some small talk on the way to the Bar and Grill—to intimidate whoever the fuck thought they were making a move on our mate tonight.

“So, how was your trip up?” I asked her. “Did you take the bus or bring your car?”

“I took the bus. I’ve got a license, but haven’t really driven since I moved here to Vancouver from America for a teaching job.”

“So, you’re American?” I asked cheerfully.

She glanced sideways at me. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?” I asked.

“Make small talk,” she kept her gaze glued to the dirt path. “I’m on the spectrum, and I’ve had a day, and it’s late. Silence is preferred.”

I stared over at her.

So this was what it felt like to fall… to fall in love so hard it felt like asthma, which bear shifters couldn’t even get. But suddenly, I understood the human ailment.

She was blunt. Honest in a way I avoided being so people wouldn’t know me. And she smelled like an entire jar of expensive honey.

How could I not stare at her like fucking Winnie the Pooh?

And fall into an also preferred silence as we walked along.

That is, until those human guys from earlier reappeared in the distance, walking toward us.

I quietly—but not subtly—shifted to her left side so that I’d be between her and them when they passed.

Don’t try anything, I mentally pleaded. Don’t even look at her.

I didn’t want to show her my crazy, but I didn’t know if I could hold my bear back if these humans tried anything.

Luckily, one of the guys addressed only me as they passed. “Don’t bother going to the bar,” he advised. “They just closed early for the night.”

What?

I looked beyond them, and sure enough, a stream of people were spilling out of the log-cabin-style Bar and Grill my family had been running since we got here.

The grill always closed at ten, but the bar was supposed to stay open till midnight for all the humans at the hotel. Had there been an accident? Was something wrong? Were Cal and Keli okay?

All the shit I worried about when it came to the only people I’d allowed myself to care for before Lark Bird walked into our lobby flashed through my head.

Then I saw Cal walking toward us, alongside our oldest niece, who waved at me before jogging past the Bear Mountain Residents Only signs toward the Ayaska Village.

What the hell?

He came jogging toward us, and I braced for bad news—a grease fire or a busted pipe or something—but his entire face lit up.

And I realized why.

He wasn’t grinning at me.

He looked down at her. Lark. Lark Bird.

“Hey, friend,” he said, all casual in a way that didn’t take him nearly as much effort. “I was just coming to check on you. But I see you’re already headed back to our place with my brother.”

Hold on.

“You’re the guy who offered to host her for the night?” I asked Callum.

At the same time, she said, “Wait! You two are brothers ?”

Now we both turned to stare at her. Quizzically. But, as usual, Cal spoke for us both.

“Yeah,” he answered with a careful tone. “We’re identical twins, like I told you earlier.”

She looked between us, confused. “Are you sure you’re not fraternal?” she asked. “You really don’t look alike. Like, at all.”

No. We weren’t fraternal. Genetics and my will had made sure we matched in every outward way.

In fact, Cal wore the same shocked expression I did when we realized—simultaneously:

Holy Fucking Bear…

She could tell us apart.