Bearly Hot (Glacier Pass #3)

1. Gianna

Chapter 1

Gianna

It’s five o’clock in the morning, and the sky over Glacier Pass is cloudy, with barely a hint of the sunrise that’s supposed to be peeking out any minute now. I stand outside Rise and Grind, my cozy little caffeine kingdom, juggling keys and hoping that today the espresso machine won’t stage a coup d'état. Considering it’s a temperamental beast with ambitions of world domination, I’d say my chances are fifty-fifty.

Alice, my new employee and a ball of perky energy far too awake for the crack of dawn, bounces beside me. She's all bright smiles and enthusiasm. “Good morning, Gianna! Ready to conquer the day?” she chirps, practically making chirping noises more bearable.

I give her a mock-serious look. “Alice, at this hour, I’m only ready to conquer my need for caffeine. Speaking of which, here’s hoping Bertha doesn’t blow a gasket today.”

With a loud jingle of keys, I finally manage to unlock the door, and we’re greeted by the familiar aroma of coffee that’s been gently haunting the shop since we opened a few years ago. The inviting interior has warm woods, cozy chairs, and soft lighting. A total opposite from the outside chill of our mostly-polar-bear shifter town.

Alice skips inside, expertly dodging chairs and tables even though she’s only been here a week. “So, what’s first on the agenda?” she asks, slipping on her apron with the deftness of a seasoned barista.

“First up, the star of the show,” I declare, motioning grandly to the espresso machine that has more personality than a soap opera villain. “Our precious, and often moody, Bertha. She requires gentle persuasion and loads of praise. Think of it like a grizzly in hibernation; if you poke it the wrong way, it might bite back.”

I launch into the basics, adjusting levers, pressing buttons, and explaining water jets and steam wands. Alice watches, wide-eyed, occasionally nodding. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Bethany in the bakery next door, already rolling out dough like the overachiever she is. She catches my eye through the window, waving a flour-covered hand with the precision of someone who’s up and working before the birds think about chirping.

“Morning, Bethany!” I shout through the glass, just as Alice fumbles with the espresso lever, sending a shot of black gold into the air like a geyser timed for dramatic effect. “Watch out, Alice! She is testing to see if you can dodge espresso attacks.”

Bethany chuckles, mouthing something that looks suspiciously like “rookies,” and I grin. Her Honey Buns II is my shop’s best friend. I swear by her cinnamon buns, which are probably the reason half our town doesn’t hibernate all winter.

Alice manages to catch the next espresso perfectly, her earlier stumble replaced by a surge of triumph that’s as infectious as double shots on Monday. “Victory!” she cheers, and I can’t help but join her moment of glory.

“Wonderful, Alice. You’ve managed to dodge, weave, and caffeinate, the necessary trifecta in this business,” I say, snapping my fingers. “Now, let’s get things really rolling before folks start demanding their morning magic.”

While Esther, my older-than-dirt—her description, not mine--and longtime employee, whizzes through the early morning opening procedures, I continue Alice’s first-day orientation.

The door jangles open, and our first regular, Mr. Hemming, who’s practically here more than I am, comes tottering in like he owns the place. He grunts his usual greeting and I nod back. Alice eagerly takes his order, dancing around the counter with an enthusiasm that is genuinely charming. Hemming’s order hasn’t changed in years: a cappuccino with extra foam, “like fluffy snow on a mountain peak,” he always says.

Just as we’re settling into a smooth rhythm, an ominous sputter comes from the espresso machine. Its lights flicker like it’s adopting the role of a mechanical diva mid-performance. I give it a light whack, hoping a good jolt is all Bertha needs.

“Come on, you hunk of metal, work with me here,” I whisper under my breath, believing in being firm with the temperamental machine. Miraculously, Bertha hums back to life, rewarding my negotiation skills with espresso shots. Alice gives me a thumbs up and gets back to work filling orders.

The morning rush soon trickles in, a mix of polar bear shifters and the occasional grizzly or wolf, all looking for sugar and caffeine. Alice manages to keep up, her newness completely offset by excitement and extra helpings of charm.

As the crowd thins, Bethany pops in, balancing a tray of freshly baked goodies. “Thought you two might need a sugar boost,” she says, placing the tray on the counter.

“Bethany, you’re an angel in disguise!” Alice exclaims, eagerly eyeing Bethany’s offerings.

“Don’t let the disguise fool you,” I reply, trading jabs with my cousin’s wife. “She’s more like a sugar fairy with the potential for mischief.”

Bethany laughs. “Only the good kind of mischief, I promise.” She winks and points with a mischievous grin at the coffee machine. “I see you’re finally getting the hang of dealing with the old girl.”

The rest of the morning rolls by in the usual mix of coffee orders, early morning grumbling, and the occasional hiss of our espresso beast, settling into a steady rhythm. Alice grows more confident with each tick of the clock, and as I watch her, I realize she’s fitting into the chaos and charm of Rise and Grind quite nicely.

The late morning rush finally drizzles to a stop, and I let out a long, exhausted sigh. It’s been a trying morning with all of Bertha’s nonsense, and I’m ready for the day to come to an end.

Alice, still annoyingly bubbly, unties her apron and gives me a salute on her way out. "Thanks for a great first day." She’s got more energy than a toddler on a sugar high who’s barely stifling a yawn.

“You survived Bertha’s wrath today.” I chuckle, waving her off. “Get some rest and I’ll see you tomorrow morning!” God, I can’t wait until she’s fully trained. She’s going to work the opening shift, which means I can finally start my workday after the sun rises.

Esther, my right-hand woman who’s been with me since day one, is in the corner, wiping down tables. “You know, I think today was a success,” she muses, standing back to admire our morning’s handiwork.

“Thanks to you and your magical cleanup skills,” I reply, pointing out a suspiciously sticky spot on one of the tabletops that she promptly attacks with a rag. “Seriously, Esther, what would I do without you?”

Before Esther can respond with her usual wisdom, the cheerful jingle of the bell above the door rings out. I glance up, ready to either greet an awkward last-minute coffee-desperate patron or fend off a potential second rush, when I spot Grant and Gabe strolling in.

My older twin brothers, built like brick walls and just as stubborn, look around with matching grins that scream trouble. Grant, always the quieter one, gives me a simple nod, while Gabe spreads his arms wide like he’s expecting a ticker-tape parade.

I narrow my eyes with mock annoyance. “Well, if it isn’t the rarest sight in all of Glacier Pass, the elusive Bearly twins, finally emerging from their den to grace my humble shop.” I cross my arms, trying to channel our mother’s disapproving tone.

Gabe laughs, the sound rumbling from his chest like playful thunder. “Aw, come on, Squirt, you know we’d never forget our baby sis. Just been busy with, you know… stuff.” He shrugs like that explains everything. In our world, it kind of does. I figured I’d see at least one of my brothers today since our parents are on a three-week-long vacation and my brothers don’t believe I can actually function without help.

Grant just smirks, pointing at the empty chairs. “We need a little caffeine to get our day moving.”

“Well, lucky for you, there’s plenty left, assuming Bertha’s generous today.” I nod toward the espresso machine, which sits innocently on the counter, disguising its true nature.

I pivot toward the machine, flipping switches and mentally urging Bertha to behave. I’m mid-pour, teasing them about not visiting enough, when suddenly, Bertha lets out a dramatic hiss, and a rogue jet of scalding coffee splashes across my right hand.

“Ah! Hot, hot, hot!” I yelp, instinctively jerking back my hand, which feels like it’s on fire.

Both twins spring into action immediately. Gabe’s at my side, worry creasing his brow. “Gianna, let me see. That looks bad.”

“I’m fine, really,” I insist, even though my hand's bright red and throbbing like freaking heck. “Just a little love pat from Bertha.”

Esther tuts gently, already at the sink running cool water. “This needs to cool down right away. Hold it under here, dear.”

Before I can protest, Gabe’s gently but firmly steering me toward the sink, his no-nonsense big brother mode fully activated. The cool water is a relief, but not enough to stop Gabe from insisting, “You need to get this looked at, Gianna. That’s a burn for sure.”

“I’m telling you, it’s nothing,” I argue weakly, but my dramatic wincing betrays me. Most shifters are able to heal minor injuries due to their enhanced immunity and fast metabolism, but more serious wounds need medical attention. Fudge my life. From the looks of the red, puckering skin, I’m pretty sure this one is going to need help.

Grant steps up, taking the situation seriously now. “Gabe’s right. We’ll get you to the ER to be safe. It’s not worth risking anything worse.”

The brothers exchange a silent conversation only twins could decipher, and before I can make another feeble protest, Gabe is already hustling me toward the door.

“Grant, stay and help Esther close up, will you?” Gabe asks, and Grant nods, taking up my apron like it’s some heroic mantle.

“Good thing I know my way around a coffee shop,” Grant jokes, though I know he’ll manage just fine. “I’ll whip this ornery machine into shape,” he adds with a wink, and I figure it’s finally time to call the repair man.

In a matter of minutes, Gabe has me bundled up and ushered out the door, all while Esther reassures me with a wave. “Don’t worry about a thing, dear. You’re in good hands.”

With Gabe steering me to his truck, the cold air hits my cheeks, making the burn on my hand tingle more. “Honestly, you two are worse than a couple of mother hens,” I grumble, though deep down, it’s nice to be fussed over once in a while.

Gabe just laughs, starting the engine with a rumble. “And you’re as stubborn as a grizzly in spring. Let’s get you checked out before you try to wrestle that coffee machine again.”