Page 30 of Trusting Her Bear
“I like it.” I pause to let her take in the view off the porch. “I love sitting out here in the mornings,” I say softly.
“I would too,” she says just as softly.
I open the front door and allow her to enter first. “It only has two bedrooms.” I built it small but with the thought in mind that it could be expanded. I wait as she looks around. The living room and kitchen are directly in the front door. The floor plan is open, except for the large tree that separates them, and not very big. The fireplace is made of stone that I hauled myself, a comfortable couch facing it. The bedrooms are down a short hallway, all on one level.
“That’s a tree,” she states, pointing at it.
“Yes. It was a challenge to insulate it enough without killing it.”
“I’m stunned,” she says as she glides her fingers over the trunk. “Are these marks from your bear?” Her fingernail traces the trail.
“You know our bears like to mark their territory. I shift in the house once in a while.” I clasp my hands behind my back to keep from pushing her against the wood and taking her.
“Why don’t you spend more time here?” She frowns.
“It’s easier to sleep at the office.” I shrug. “I love it, though.”
“I do, too.” She smiles and explores the small kitchen, consisting of cupboards in the shape of an L, a fridge, a stove, and a sink. “What’s this?” She stands by the square table.
“I told you I would feed you lunch. I decided to go with burgers from my favorite place to eat.” The table is filled with all my favorites and a few sides I thought she would like.
“How?”
“I asked Elijah. He may be a bit of a wild card, but he’s a sucker for romance. All I had to say was it was for my mate.” The cheetah shifter has grown on me.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her face tender.
“Welcome,” I say gruffly. “Hungry?”
“Starving.”
I pull out a chair and wait for her to sit before taking mine at the head of the table.
“Eat.” I nod to the burger in front of her and earn a sweet smile. “We can save whatever’s left.” I’m a simple guy. I like meat, a bit on the rare side to please my bear, and potatoes. I think my body would protest if I walked into a fancy restaurant.
“It’s good,” she says after swallowing her first bite. “This is my favorite.”
“What is?”
“All of this.” She waves her hand over the table. “My family is big on grilling. I have many memories of late nights sitting around the campfire, eating hamburgers, talking. I’m also a sucker for smores.” She grins.
“I’ll remember that.” We concentrate on filling our stomachs. I find it hard to keep my eyes on my plate. I can picture many days just like this, spending time in the tree house, enjoying each other's company. Simple. Comfortable. Alone.
I want nothing more than to stay with her and shut out the world. I have a hard time trusting anyone, and I wondered how I would feel with my mate. I immediately feel a connection and the urge to tell her everything. The problem is that I don’t think she is ready for my confessions.
I can hear the fabric of her jeans as she crosses her legs. She shifts in her seat every other bite. I can smell how being in a small area with me is affecting her body. But the question is, is she ready mentally for everything I am? Generally, I am a lot to handle, and because of her trauma, she may not be ready.
“I have to be honest with you,” I start, and her eyes swing my way, her food forgotten. “I am usually a very blunt man.”
“I sense that,” she says, a twinge of humor in her words as she leans back and drops her hands to her lap.
“I have been holding back.”
“I know.” Her fingers twine together.
“I have craved having a mate,” I say hesitantly, and she nods encouragingly. “I knew I would protect her and try to make her happy. I know I am not an easy man. I like things my way.”
“I understand,” she says softly.