Page 13 of Wrong Number, Right Grizzly (Dial M For Mates #7)

NIX

Ronan took a few days off so we could spend time together as mates, and I did the same.

My boss called and texted me the first day with work-related questions until I said I was going out of town to a cabin with no phone or internet connection. A small fib but a necessary one. This wasn’t a time for new places or exciting adventures, though being newly mated was pretty special.

After the first day, we’d found our rhythm. Maybe not one for life but a domestic one for just now. Despite me being an early riser who exercised before work, my mate was the one who got up first and put on the coffee.

We’d had coffee in bed, something I never did during the week because I was sweating and groaning at the gym before showering and heading to work. It was kinda decadent being under the covers at eight in the morning on a weekday, something I could get used to.

After showers where we jerked one another off, we indulged in a hot breakfast. Sausages or bacon, eggs, mushrooms, toast, juice, and more coffee to wash it down.

It was weird that my whole life had been about work and climbing up the ladder, watching my pile of money grow, and now my job had taken second or third place. Maybe last, because all I could see, scent, and feel was Ronan.

"Your eggs are better than mine.” Ronan stole a bite from my plate.

“It’s a trade secret,” I said, batting his fork away with mine. "My dad taught me to add a splash of cream at the end."

"Which dad?"

We’d spoken of families the previous night, and I told him I was adopted by a human couple who knew I was a shifter, based on my eyes. They’d stumbled upon a pack of wolf shifters years before, so were aware my kind existed.

“My alpha father. He's the one who does most of the cooking." I took another bite. "You'll like them when you meet them."

For the moment, I was selfishly keeping my mate to myself.

When I walked into the kitchen after breakfast one morning, my mate was fixing the loose handle on my kitchen cabinet. He asked how long it’d been like this, and I shrugged, saying it’d been months. I just avoided using the cupboard ‘cause it was easier than finding the time to fix it.

I tried to get my mate interested in otters, but whenever I started the documentary I’d been watching the night of the storm, he fell asleep.

He didn’t share my love of nature documentaries and convinced me to watch true crime.

That wasn't my first love, and Ronan was irritated when I googled what the outcome of the case was, as I preferred ones where the crime was solved.

On the nights when we weren’t arguing about what to watch, we sat on the porch or took long walks, while he peppered me with questions about shifters and what it was like for me growing up in a human family. He also wanted to learn the techniques needed to know who was a shifter.

“I can tell by their scent, and after years of living with me, my folks can scent a shifter, but the majority of humans wouldn’t pick us out.” And that was a good thing, as we’d already discussed.

But on our third night together, my mate checked his phone, saying he couldn’t take any more days off.

He’d have to leave before dawn tomorrow.

We’d been expecting this because we didn’t live in the same town.

I had considered moving, but when Ronan fell asleep one night, I’d scrolled through the job market where he lived and there was nothing for me there.

He looked miserable after texting his boss and agreeing to be in the office tomorrow.

My grizzly couldn’t understand why Ronan had to leave. Work, money, and commitments didn’t have much of an impact on him. But I said we’d be together again soon.

Bah! Soon. You always tell me we’re going to shift soon . And we don’t.

I had no comeback to that.

That night we hardly slept and held hands even when our eyes were closed. But lots of people did long-distance, and we weren’t an ocean apart. If I missed him terribly, I’d drive up there and spend the night.

In three days, I’d become used to having him in my bed, eating breakfast together, and arguing about watching baby animals in the wild versus hearing someone recount a vicious crime.

The coffee he made was so bitter I couldn’t drink it as we stood in the kitchen before he left. And as he drove off after kisses and hugs and promises to text when he arrived, I stood on the street until he turned a corner and his taillights disappeared.

I went to the gym and pounded the treadmill and lifted weights until my grizzly told me to stop. I was lathered with sweat when I hit the shower, and I was so early at the office, no one else was there.

Determined to keep my sadness away, I powered through my work, doing more before lunch time than I usually got done in a day. Even my boss asked what was going on, but I brushed off his question, saying I’d gotten an early start.

I miss our mate , my beast repeated throughout the day.

You and me both.

That first night I was alone, we ate dinner together as we had a face-to-face conversation on our phones. Ronan had cooked, whereas I’d ordered in. We were both exhausted after a long day, so after multiple yawns and “sorrys,” we blew kisses and said good night.

But though I was tired, I lay in bed texting, and he replied until he must have fallen asleep. I closed my eyes with my arm outstretched onto the empty side of the bed.

By Saturday, we'd fallen into a routine of phone calls and texts. Ronan would call me in the morning while he drank his coffee, I’d text him after the gym, and there'd be messages back and forth throughout the day. In the evening we’d FaceTime while he made dinner and I scrolled through the delivery app.

We’d hoped to see one another over the weekend but Ronan had to complete a project that he’d pushed back when he was at my place.

I could have gone up there, and my grizzly was urging me to, but he’d be at the office, so what was the point?

Me being there and him being busy might make him feel guilty, so we decided we’d see one another the following weekend.

But the hours and days crept along. Why was it that the good times sped as fast as a bullet train and the lousy ones stretched on without an end?

By midweek, I was done with talking to him on the phone and falling asleep with the device on my chest. Without warning him, I drove to his place, surprising him as he was making dinner.

Our reunion was everything I’d imagined: reconnecting, passionate, learning more about one another, and mourning that we had to part again so soon.

I skipped the gym in favor of staying an extra hour with Ronan and drove from his place straight to the office.

I miss you so much .

I read my mate’s text as I walked in the house after staying late at the office.

How were we going to manage thi s ?

We’d been living this way for less than two weeks since we mated, and it’d seemed like an eternity. Though when I looked forward to the months and years ahead, I blocked out the view.

Not sure yet , I replied. What I miss is you stealing bites of my food .

You miss my cooking, admit it .

What I missed was him in my bed, my shower, on my sofa, and going into in-depth discussions about how a murderer got away with a crime.

Ronan suggested that no matter how busy we were, we spend every weekend together. If one of us had to work, the other would cook dinner, or in my case, order in.

The phone buzzed, and I picked it up. “Guess what?” My mate’s voice boomed out of the phone. He didn’t wait for me to say anything and continued. “My boss has agreed that unless I have to attend a trade fair, I can work from home on Fridays.”

So when he’d said weekend, he was talking about a long weekend. It wasn’t everything, but it was something.

“Do I have to guess whose home you’ll be working in?”

“You could.” He laughed. “But you’ll never get it right.”

“I could kiss your boss.”

“Nah. Your mate might get jealous.”

I didn’t see us keeping this up long-term, and we’d have to discuss whose life was upended. But I hoped neither and that the universe who’d put us together would come up with a plan to keep us that way.