Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
I might be ready to explore my feelings for Wilder, but I’m not going to roll over and let him have his way. If the hot bear shifter wants to win my heart, he’s going to have to work at it. Hard.
“No.” Wilder closes the distance between us. “I’m sure I’ll have to work hard to prove it to you. Don’t worry, sweet tart, I plan to spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” I stand statue-still when he leans down to place a soft kiss on my lips. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Thanks for the warning, Fozzie,” I yell after him. Oh, man. I’m in over my head. The freaking bear shifter already owns my heart.
I forget all about what’s going on with me and Wilder when I see Clay and Bethany furiously whispering back and forth. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but their body language tells a different story. From the looks of things, my sister finally stopped fighting her feelings for the middle Bearly brother.
Once the crowd disburses, Bethany and I head back into the bakery. “You and Clay seem to be getting along.”
My older sister glances over at me and shrugs before turning to the next customer in line. “Good morning, how may I help you?”
I guess that’s the end of our conversation. I follow her lead and throw myself into helping customers. Before I know it, we’re closing up for the day. “It’s my turn for the first shower.” I clap my hands together, anticipating the soothing hot water. Our apartment above the bakery has an ancient water heater that provides just enough hot water for a two-minute shower so we take turns having the first shower.
“I figured you’d want a cold shower to cool you off from earlier.” Bethany tries to get the hot shower for herself, but I’m not giving up my treat.
“You figured wrong,” I tell her as we turn off the lights and head up the back stairs to the apartment.
“It was worth a try.” She sighs and locks the door behind us before kicking off her shoes.
“Nice try.” I hurry to the shower. While the hot water feels heavenly, it does very little to soothe me. Darn. Bethany was right. Oh well, I’ll keep that little tidbit to myself.
“How was your hot shower?” Bethany asks when I sit next to her on the sofa.
“It was good.”
“Want to watch a little television before we cook dinner?” She grabs the remote. “If I wait long enough, maybe the hot water heater will squeeze out another hot shower.”
“Sounds great.” I lay my head against the back of the sofa and let my sister pick our show. It’s our normal routine. We close the bakery at three pm, then head upstairs and have a quiet evening before dropping into bed around nine pm. Owning a bakery that opens at six am means we have the sleeping schedule of toddlers.
Over the next week, Fozzie stops by the bakery every single day to see me. He usually comes by during our quiet times so we can sit at a table and talk. I can sense that my bear shifter mate is struggling to take things slow, but he respects my wishes and doesn’t press me for too much too fast. Every night, he walks both me and Bethany up the back stairs and gives me a light kiss on the cheek.
Several times, I’ve been tempted to ask him if he wants to come in, but I resist the urge, knowing I need more time for my heart to heal before I let him take things any further.
“I look like a fucking idiot.” I turn around and glance at my ass in the mirror. Fucking hell. My inner bear shakes his head sadly at the sight of me in this getup, but I remind him that I’m doing this for my mate.
It’s taken me over a week, but I’m finally starting to make headway with my mate. The look of distrust disappeared from her aqua-blue eyes a few days ago. To my relief, she actually appears to be happy to see me when I stop by the bakery.
“You do look silly, but it’s keeping you out of jail.” Clay smirks and makes a twirling gesture with his hand, so I spin around and give him the full view of my six-foot-five ass wearing a French maid getup with a pair of tight black athletic shorts and shiny, candy-apple-red, four-inch heels. I drew the line at shaving my goddamn legs though. If the residents of Honey Pot Hollow don’t like my hairy fucking legs, they can kiss my ass. “I promised Craig you’d sit in the bakery all day long wearing this outfit if he doesn’t press charges.”
Fuck me with a spoon. I should’ve taken the rotting-in-jail option. At least, then I’d have my goddamn dignity. My bear ends my pity party, reminding me I’m doing this for my mate.