Page 6 of Just Right (The Beasts of Blackmoor #3)

MATE

W hen I finally get the nerve to go downstairs, it seems like I missed breakfast. At least, the social part of it. There’s a single bowl left on the tabletop. On its left, there’s a fresh spoon. On the right?

A note.

In a blocky print, two lines are written in the center of the small page:

Stay here. Eat your porridge.

We’ll be home soon.

I don’t have to wonder about which Brown brother wrote the note.

I only just met them, but this has Rowan all over it.

He must’ve guessed that—because I was let into Blackmoor in the first place—I have my own reasons for being in the forest. Being trapped in a cabin owned by three bears?

Sorry. That’s another Goldilocks’s fate. Me? I need to find Charlotte.

But do I want to just go? It would be as fucked-up as just sneaking into their cabin would be, but that’s not even why I hesitate.

Finn, Colt, and Rowan live in the woods.

If Charlotte did spend her time—three days or three weeks—in Blackmoor, there’s a chance they know something about her.

It’s a long shot, but the only chance I have, and I don’t want to disappear before I have the opportunity to ask them about her.

Besides, there are three beds here. And while I’m not about to negotiate my way into one of them, that couch in the living room is big enough to be a bed for me.

Hell, there’s enough space in front of the fireplace that would fit all of us comfortably.

Give me a blanket and some pillows and I’d be set.

Maybe hanging around isn’t that bad of an idea.

Even if they don’t know anything about Charlotte, they know these woods.

If I worm my way under their skin, I might be able to get one of the brothers to help me search for her.

At the very least, it might be handy to have a big ol’ grizzly bear on my side.

If there really are monsters out there, I’d feel a lot better knowing that I have some powerful backup of my own.

Am I talking myself into sticking around because food, shelter, and safety seems a lot more promising than wandering around the woods in my stockinged feet?

Maybe, but I have twenty days now. Give me a few to use my Goldie charm on these guys and who knows?

I could keep that promise of food, shelter, and protection while also working toward getting my prize just by getting the Brown brothers to want to help me.

Something tells me that won’t be so difficult…

My first clue?

The porridge.

I can’t tell if it’s a gag or not. If I’m really reliving a fairytale here, then that makes sense. That was porridge that Goldilocks chowed down on, but I’d never had any before. I just figured it was oatmeal, and you know what? Maybe that’s what porridge is. Another name for oatmeal.

Regardless, the bears left a bowl for me. All it takes is a tentative taste to realize that they noticed how I ate all of one bowl out of the three. The porridge left behind is exactly the same as the one from yesterday, only a little bit warmer since it’s fresher.

Damn it. It’s delicious.

When I’m done, I see a small sink with a hand pump for water.

I’m desperate enough for a drink that I spend a few minutes figuring it out.

After rinsing off my hands, I cup my palm, gathering enough water to sip it.

After four handfuls, my thirst is quenched for the moment, and I wipe my palms against the skirt of my dress.

I try not to think about what state it’ll be in after twenty more days. And my underwear… those were all things I didn’t really think about when I agreed to this madness, but now I’m regretting that I didn’t at least negotiate for a couple of extra pairs of panties.

Ah, well. I’ll go commando if I must, and steal one of the sheets from their beds for a change of clothing if I have to. They’re tall guys, but I’m thick enough that one of their flannels might fit me like a dress. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it.

For Charlotte.

For my own sanity.

For the closure I never thought I’d have.

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. Snooping seems like a bad idea after I basically made myself at home while they were all out last night.

I’m curious where they all went off to already, but that’s not really my business.

I’m just grateful they thought of me when it came to breakfast, plus someone rekindled the fire in the living room.

It’s not blazing so high that it’s too warm near the hearth. It crackles gently, setting me at ease, with the small flames giving off enough heat that I just want to sink down in front of it and relax.

For all I know, this might be the last time I can.

I didn’t want to look like I was making myself at home. That’s why, the first chair I sat down on was the large wooden stool without any padding. Yeah, no. My ass hurt within seconds of trying to get comfortable, and the hard back made it impossible to do anything but sit up straight.

Sorry, but my job consists of being on the computer all day. Your girl slouches.

The massive couch looked super tempting. It was big enough to seat a grizzly bear—which, I realize now, was the point—but I had the same problem as I did the night before. It was just too soft . I felt like I was being swallowed up by the furs and cushions.

Remembering the story I can’t deny seems way too apt all of a sudden, I side-eye the final chair. Goldilocks ended up breaking Baby Bear’s chair because, while it was comfortable, it was also meant for a bear cub, not a little girl.

Assuming this chair is Finn’s, will it hold me?

Fingers crossed.

I sit down as carefully as I can, waiting for a creak.

When it doesn’t come, I chuckle under my breath.

I’m no twig, but these are bears . I’d hope that any chair that could hold one of them would be able to hold me.

Luckily, it does, and damn if this simple armchair isn’t one of the most comfy chairs I’ve ever lounged in.

I’m still curled up in it, resting after my stressful long day yesterday, watching the flames wither and die without more wood to feed them when, suddenly, the air suddenly grows heavy and I know… I just know… that I’m not alone anymore.

My head swivels. There, standing near the entrance, is one of the twins.

Finn, I think. There’s something more approachable about him. Unlike Colt, whose very presence was a dare earlier, Finn seems eager for me to get closer. In fact, as soon as our eyes meet, he takes two short steps toward the chair.

Only two, though, because he pauses before the third. He glances quickly at the wall behind us. “Colt and Rowan aren’t back yet? Normally, I could scent them, but today…” He snuffles through his nose. “All I smell is honey.”

Sure. Honey. If he says so.

I shake my head. “It’s just me.”

“I thought so. Their axes are still missing. Usually, my brothers sharpen them, then hang them up when they’re done.”

I think I know what he means. I noticed last night that there were two axes on the wall, then two other hooks that were empty. It’s the same now so I didn’t think anything of it. But if they replaced them before, then took them down again, that would explain it.

Only…

“Why would they have axes?”

They’re bears; at least, Finn definitely is. They said as much, and whether that was a dream or not, I know what I saw. He went from big bear to naked Finn, and if my eyes dip a little to check out the crotch of his jeans when I remember what he looked like completely nude, I can’t help it.

Remember? It’s been a year since my last hook-up, and though I know I’m not here for a good time, a girl can dream, right? Scratch an itch and find out what happened to Charlotte?

Sounds like a wish come true to me.

Too bad that Finn seems innocently oblivious to my curious gaze. I asked him a question. Instead of eye-fucking me back, he answers it.

“We’re lumberjacks. We cut down trees in the forest, make paths, and leave firewood for some of the residents who need it. They trade things that we need.”

Down, Goldie. See? This is why it’s a good idea to ask questions like that. All it too was one and now I know that my hosts work out in the woods, they probably spend most of their time there, and they have contact with other monsters.

Good to know.

I’m still a little curious about Finn, though.

“Where’s your axe?” I ask him. He said we are lumberjacks, but it doesn’t seem like he was out there with his brothers.

He gestures at the wall. “That’s mine. The extra is a spare we took off of one of the hunters that came through. But I didn’t go out to chop with my brothers. This time of year, I tend to our bees.”

I can’t stop my reaction. I flinch.

A look of concern flashes over his boyishly handsome face. He hurries toward me. “Goldie? You alright?”

I hold up a hand, stopping him. “Yeah. Sorry. It’s just…

I got chased by a few of them yesterday when I was in the woods.

Actually,” I add, remembering it more vividly than I want to considering the sting stopped bothering me overnight, “if they hadn’t followed after me, I don’t know if I would have stumbled upon this cabin at all. ”

“Hang on. Are you saying that the bees led you to us?” Finn’s worried expression brightens. “I’ll have to thank the hive next time I’m harvesting honey.”

Oh. Honey . That’s what he meant before when he mentioned that’s all he could scent.

I got the vibe that that was his heavy-handed way to hit on me, but if grizzly shifters are anything like Pooh bear, he probably loves the stuff.

At least, enough that he keeps bees and harvests honey for his porridge.

That reminds me… “Thank you for breakfast. It was very tasty.”

He beams. “I made it.”

I figured.

Finn hovers next to me, unsure what to say next. He scratches the back of his neck, running his fingers through his hair, resting on his heels… but every twitch, every motion brings him even closer until I could reach out and touch him.

So, feeling a little mischievous myself, I do.