Page 20 of Wrong Number, Right Grizzly (Dial M For Mates #7)

RONAN

What had started as me grabbing a couple paint chips on a whim when I was at the hardware store one day had rapidly morphed into an obsession.

I sat on the soon-to-be nursery floor looking at the mosaic of paint chips.

It passed the realm of reason and had gone into the land of ridiculous.

Not only did I have local paint chips, I had ordered them from multiple stores and companies, many of whom were not even in our state.

It shouldn’t have been so difficult to pick the color of a nursery.

I’d never been somebody who obsessed with color, or home decor for that matter.

And even if I did, it wasn’t that serious.

Paint color was one of the easiest things to change in a room.

If we didn’t like it, we could paint it a different color.

Heck, we could repaint it every week if we wanted to.

But still… I’d been sitting on the bedroom floor for an hour staring at the options I’d collected, trying to figure out which one was the best.

And if this was the first hour I’d done this, maybe there would be some reasonableness to it. But it wasn’t. I’d been in the same exact position for over an hour at dawn, beginning at noon, and now again at dusk… I wanted to be sure that my decision looked good in every lighting.

Hormones were wild, because never in a million years would I have cared about paint color before this pregnancy. Looking back, I couldn’t even remember what the color of the walls were in my old apartment—probably white, maybe a light beige. Who knew? It hadn’t mattered.

This room was different. For whatever baby-pregnancy-induced reason, it was not only intensely important, it was also something that had to be decided ASAP, despite our cub’s due date still being a ways off.

Nix stood in the doorway and knocked on the frame. “Can I come in?”

Nix had taken to walking very heavily and knocking every time he came into a room, after he’d walked into the living room a few days ago and startled me.

Being startled was no big deal on most occasions, but for whatever reason, that day I turned into a sobbing pile of mush.

I 1000% blame pregnancy hormones. As it was happening, I was fully aware that my response was not at all reasonable. Regardless, I couldn’t stop myself.

“Yeah, come on in. I’m attempting to narrow it down… very poorly.”

I went to get up, forgetting that my center of gravity was skewed, and ended up right back down where I started. I wished I could say that was the first time.

“Let me help you, mate.” He reached his hands out for me, and I grabbed them. This time I was able to get on both feet and then straight into his arms, where I belonged.

“Why is this so hard?” I whined.

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Because you want everything to be perfect for our cub. And this is one of many decisions you’ve had to make. It’s a lot.”

“You’re not gonna tell me it’s ridiculous and just pick something?”

“Let’s pretend I did, mate. What would that accomplish?” He rubbed his cheek against mine.

“Darn you being so reasonable and understanding.” I squeezed him closer. “Pick one for me, mate. Please?”

He intertwined our fingers, and we walked closer to the wall together.

“I’m not going to pick one for you, but I will help you decide. Close your eyes.”

I did as he said.

“Don’t think of the array of choices you have here. I just want you to answer with the very first answer that pops into your head.”

“Okay.” It came out as more of a question than I intended.

“When you envision the nursery, is it bright and cheery, or is it darker and more sleep-friendly?”

“Cheery.” The answer came easily.

“Excellent. Stay here and keep your eyes closed.”

I hadn’t planned on going anywhere and now I was intrigued.

“There we go,” he was back at my side. “Now, are you thinking more bold, or more pastel?”

“I don’t know. They say babies like pastels, but I like bold.” So much for giving him the first answer that popped into my head.

“I didn’t ask what anybody else said. Bold or pastel?”

“Bold.”

He had me stay again, and this time I peeked and saw him removing a ton of paint chips from my mosaic.

He kept asking questions and removing color chips until we were left with only one, a beautiful orange-yellow. It reminded me of the way I drew the sun in elementary school. I loved it.

“Let’s go get it now.” I snatched it from the wall.

“Do you even remember which store it was from?”

“Promise not to laugh?”

He cupped my cheek. “I promise.”

“It’s the first paint chip I picked out. It’s in town.” One day I’d be amused that I’d come through this, even though I already knew the answer. That day was not today.

“Then let’s go get it and deem the decision made.”

While there, we also had to get some special remover for the wall to get the sticky stuff off from having all the paint chips up.

Leave it to me to make myself even more work—only it wasn’t my work, because the second he began working on painting the nursery the next day, he kicked me outside and told me to take a nap.

I was no longer in the all-exhausted-all-the-time stage, but I wasn’t turning down a nap.

Sleeping outside had become one of my favorite things this pregnancy.

I wasn’t sure if it was related to growing a cub, or if it was finally being away from the city and relishing the beauty that was here.

Either case, I took advantage of it every chance I could.

I woke up hours later feeling refreshed and started back into the house, the smell slamming into me when the door cracked open. It was easy to see why he hadn’t wanted me in here. Now that I smelled it, I didn’t want him in here either.

Instead, I worked on the garden until Nix came out, a duffel bag in his hand.

“Paint’s done, windows are open. Neither of us are going back in there until tomorrow.” He wiggled the duffel bag. “I booked us a nice hotel. Best mate ever, right?”

“Bestiest best.” I stood up and brushed off my knees. “Where’d you find a nice hotel?” It wasn’t near here, that was for sure.

“About an hour from here.” He reached for my hand. “Let’s go. I think I have everything you need, but if not, I’ve got money.”

I just nodded. The determination in his eyes and the smell of the inside told me there was no way I was getting back in there until that was all cleared up. And as much as I loved being home, I was getting excited about our romantic night away.

An hour later, we pulled up to a hotel that looked like it belonged in the movies, with a red carpet. I’d never been to a hotel this nice before, not even for work.

“I hadn’t realized you meant this fancy. I’m wearing flip-flops.”

“You said they’re your favorite.” Nix unbuckled my seatbelt. “Besides, we won't be in there for long. There’s a steakhouse across the street.”

“You do know that being my favorite doesn’t mean steakhouse-acceptable.”

“I doubt anybody will notice. They’ll be too busy wondering who the lucky guy is on your arm and being sad they can’t have you all to themselves.”

“Are your lips made of honey? Because nothing’s coming out of them but sweet talk.”

He groaned at my pathetic attempt at a bear joke, but also, his ears pinkened.

I made my bear blush.

“Let’s get checked in. I think we should make sure the bed is good enough before going out to eat.”

Spoiler alert—we never made it to the steakhouse, and our overnight date became a weekend away.