Bearly Hot (Glacier Pass #3)

3. Gianna

Chapter 3

Gianna

The following morning, I wake up with a slight twinge in my hand but a grin on my face that refuses to budge—even when I catch sight of my espresso-stained shirt in the hallway mirror. It’s a brand-new day at Rise and Grind, and I have a feeling it’s going to be a bearable one, ha-ha, unlike yesterday’s coffee catastrophe.

I stroll into the shop, feeling the cool morning air that Glacier Pass likes to boast clinging to my skin. Inside, the peaceful hum of Bertha, my once-rebellious espresso machine, is noticeably even-tempered. Grant and Gabe played the hero cards yesterday, calling in a repairman who’s finally gotten Bertha to cease her fiery revolts. Praise be to whatever mechanical deities they prayed to.

Alice is already here, tying on her apron like she’s gearing up for a championship match. I wave, still impressed at how fast she’s picked up the art of coffee-making. In fact, she’s handling Bertha like she’s been dealing with this beast for years.

“You know, at this rate, you’re going to hit barista wizard status faster than expected,” I tell her, sounding both impressed and amused.

She beams back at me, sliding a perfectly foamed cappuccino across the counter to its eagerly waiting customer. “Thank you.”

The shop gradually fills up as the morning rush approaches. The usual clang of cups and chatter of customers fills the air, and I bask in the comforting hustle of it all. There’s a rhythm to the madness, and oh, does it feel good when everything gels together.

During a rare lull, the door opens with a gentle jingle. Dr. Sawyer Silva walks in with purpose, looking all yummy, and I feel my inner grizzly wake up and stretch. As our eyes meet, a shiver runs through my body at the hungry look in his eyes.

He’s freaking gorgeous. My hand completely stopped throbbing the second he walked into the exam room yesterday. My inner bear woke up and screamed, “Mine,” in my ear before I had time to take a breath. The bear shifter is the kind of tall that makes you feel small in all the right ways, even though I’m taller than most human women. He’s got to be close to seven feet tall, and I’m betting his presence dominates any room he walks into.

Sawyer's dark, tousled hair gives him an effortlessly rugged look like he just rolled out of bed and still looks like a magazine model. My fingers itch to see if it’s as soft as it appears and I clench them at my side to resist the urge. His aqua-blue eyes capture mine, vibrant against his slightly tanned skin and sparkling with an intriguing mix of humor and warmth. There’s a mischievous glint that suggests he’s always in on some secret.

A neatly trimmed beard frames his strong jawline, adding a touch of sophistication to his rugged charm, while his smile is utterly disarming and laced with hints of mischief. And then there’s his body. Good Lord, I can barely resist the urge to fan myself. He’s packed with muscles on top of muscles, an impressive physique that says he can handle anything thrown his way. And my inner bear is definitely ready to throw a lot at him.

“Good morning, Dr. Silva.” I swallow, greeting him with a nod, teasing just lightly. “What can we make for you?”

He chuckles, an easy-going sound that makes me think the bear in him is content today. “Since we’re going to know each other very well, you should call me Sawyer.” My inner grizzly bear is ready to get to know him, but I tell the hussy to sit back and let me run the show. “I’d like a double espresso, please.”

I already know the universe has chosen him as my fated mate, but I don’t plan to dive headlong into an eternity-long relationship. No, I’m intent on making this journey interesting for both of us. Bears like their comforts, but they also enjoy a good adventure.

I carefully make his coffee and hand it to him. Our palms touch as I hand the cup to him, and I have to wrangle my inner bear into submission before she launches me over the glass counter to climb his body like a tree.

“Thank you.” He smiles and I feel my ovaries ready to explode. My inner bear is too busy naming our future cubs to cause much trouble.

He stands there for just a second longer, looking as though he has something more to say but decides against it. Instead, with a nod and another smile, he makes his way toward the exit. “See you tomorrow, Gianna.” Why does that sound like a threat?

As Sawyer exits, I glance at Alice wiping down the already gleaming espresso bar. “Is it just me, or is he, like, absurdly cute for a doctor?” she says, not missing a beat.

I laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, he’s not bad. Definitely bearable.” I wiggle my eyebrows and her groan at the pun is drowned by the bell announcing another wave of coffee lovers, but I’m grinning from ear to ear. There’s something special brewing here, and it’s definitely not just the coffee.

I’ll admit it, my hand still stings a little from the well-aimed coffee incident, but every morning when I wrap it around my mug, I feel oddly grateful to Bertha for bringing Dr. Sawyer Silva into my life.

For the past few mornings, Sawyer has been as consistent as clockwork. At precisely 8:15, he steps into Rise and Grind, looking like someone airbrushed the morning chill straight out of his clothes, and as if he was built effortlessly to handle anything from medical emergencies to flirting like a pro.

On his second day, he brought me a mix tape, claiming it was the perfect blend to listen to while running a bustling café. Turns out it was a cleverly mixed compilation of relaxing tunes to complement the insanity of early-morning caffeine addicts. That tape's been on replay ever since.

Each morning, he gets bolder with our exchanges as he waits for his espresso, and I admit I’m enjoying his playful flirtations way too much. My grizzly senses are tingling, though the human side of my mind insists on playing it cool.

Unfortunately, my three brothers—Grant, Gabe, and Dillon—seem to have caught wind of our merry little morning routine, and there's no 'undo' button for brotherly meddling.

By mid-week, they’re stationed in the café at their table of choice smack dab in the middle of the shop, where they have an unobstructed view of the entire exchange.

The third morning, I’m all set for the normal bustle when I notice my trio of brothers seated with extraordinarily large goofy grins on their faces. Fudge me. This spells trouble. They’re all wearing the kind of grins only mischievous bears planning some heckling could have. I narrow my eyes suspiciously, bracing for whatever shenanigans they’ve concocted.

Sure enough, at 8:15 sharp, Sawyer comes strolling in with that characteristic relaxed demeanor, offering me an easy, charming smile as he approaches. Grant, Gabe, and Dillon call out greetings to Sawyer by name as if they've been friends for decades.

Sawyer, bless him, rolls with it, waving casually and shooting them a polite nod. “Morning, guys.”

I get started on his double espresso, and we fall into our familiar exchange. Today’s topic consists of whether grizzly bears make better mates than polar bears. I fling a few playful quips at him, relishing every retort he sends back with relaxed confidence. “When did you realize my three brothers are polar bear shifters?”

“I smelled it on Gabe in the hospital.” He smirks and leans against the counter, coming close enough for his yummy spicy scent to wrap around me. “You’ll have to tell me the entire story of how that happened.”

“My dad’s a grizzly shifter from Honey Pot Hollow. He met my mom, a polar bear shifter, when he moved here, and they mated the same day.” I give him the abbreviated version. “Since polar bear genes are stronger, they ended up with three male polar bear cubs and one perfect female grizzly.” I point at myself, batting my eyelashes.

“You are fucking perfect,” he breathes, causing my inner hussy to melt into a puddle of goo. I glance over his shoulder and notice all three of my brothers have pulled out homemade signs, which they hold up for inspection. Crudely designed on poster board, they're scrawled with numbers ranging from six to nine in thick bold markers. Those jerks are judging Sawyer’s flirting attempts.

Gabe’s grinning with a bold ‘seven’ held high, while Grant languidly hoists a ‘three’, with Dillon nonchalantly tossing a rigid ‘nine’ into the air. The entire thing seems like an orchestrated episode of a reality show in the middle of my café. My cheeks burn furiously as I shoot my brothers an incredulous look, half-hoping customers think it’s a new form of café entertainment.

Sawyer follows my gaze and lets out a low chuckle when he sees the signs. "Judging me, huh?" he asks, his eyes twinkling with humor more than anything else.

I set a steaming cup in front of him with an exaggerated ceremony, deciding to face the absurdity with bravado. “They clearly have experience in flirting scenarios and exceptional subtlety,” I snipe, loud enough for the entire coffee shop and specifically my brothers to hear.

Grant whistles, dropping his sign to offer me an unapologetic shrug. “We’re just doing our brotherly duties.”

Gabe adds, “Don’t worry, Sawyer, we’re still undecided on who’s going to kick your ass on general principle.”

“Yeah, I think dealing with Gianna for the rest of eternity is punishment enough,” Dillon chimes, tapping his nine as if to ratify this minor victory.

Sawyer grins widely, balancing his cup between his fingers with the ease of someone who’s faced far stranger scenarios in the ER than brotherly banter. He leans ever so slightly across the counter to murmur, “Considering the judging panel, I’ll definitely aim for perfect tens by the end of the week.”

I roll my eyes dramatically but can’t help the laughter bubbling up, even as I attempt a semblance of dignity with the trio of trouble watching closely. “You’d better keep practicing then, Dr. Silva. The stakes just got higher.”

“Challenge accepted, hot stuff,” he replies, his smile utterly disarming. The kind of smile that insinuates he’s genuinely up for whatever obstacle my brothers decide to throw his way.

“Hot stuff?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

“It fits you. At first, my bear recommended ‘short stuff,’ but I figured that nickname might get my ass kicked.” He winks and I swear my inner bear rolls over and pants like the hussy she is.

“You figured correctly.” I laugh as a new customer walks over to the counter, drawing my attention.

As Sawyer heads to a table to enjoy his drink and possibly plot tomorrow’s charms, I turn back to my brothers, who’re still pretending to be unimpressed judges at an imaginary competition. I cross my arms, giving them a faux-intense glare, suppressing my grin.

“Next time, you guys should aim for stealth mode,” I huff, but they just laugh, savoring the spectacle of their morning prank.

I know this game isn’t over. Not for my brothers with their antics, and certainly not for me and Sawyer. Our story is just beginning, and I'm kind of excited to see where it will lead. After I give Sawyer a run for his money, that is. Let the games begin.