Bearly Hot (Glacier Pass #3)

10. Sawyer

Chapter 10

Sawyer

Driving up the winding roads toward the Bearly home, I find myself surprisingly at ease for a guy about to walk into the middle of what promises to be a family circus. The late afternoon light filters through the trees, dappling the road in hues of gold and green. I take Gianna’s warm hand in mine and bring it to my lips for a kiss.

I lay our joined hands on my thigh while her hand alternately squeezes and releases mine, a sure sign that she’s wound up tighter than a guitar string.

“Hey, everything’s going to be great,” I tell her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze and hoping to ease her nerves while maintaining my own veneer of confidence.

She shoots me a tight smile, clearly not entirely convinced. “You’ve said that three times now, just so you know,” she replies, her voice light but edged with the slightest quiver of laughter.

“That’s because I mean it,” I insist, flashing her what I hope is a reassuring grin. “Besides, I’ve always dreamed of having a big, boisterous family ever since growing up in foster care.”

Her expression softens, and she tilts her head, giving me a look that melts away the edges of my own unease. “Just remember you asked for it,” she warns, a playful lilt returning to her voice. “You might not think that once my family’s done interrogating you.”

I chuckle, though inside, a flicker of anticipation stirs. There’s something about meeting Gianna’s family that fills a void I hadn’t realized was there. Until now.

The trees eventually give way to the long drive leading up to the Bearlys’ place. We pull up in front of the large house, and I park the car on the side of a massive black SUV. We both sit silently for a moment before I take a breath and say, “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she replies, inhaling sharply before matching my smile with one of her own.

When she reaches for the door handle, I tell her, “I’ll come around for you.”

“Thank you.” She smiles as I pull the door open. I lean over and kiss her soft lips before taking her hand in mine again.

As we approach, the clatter and clamor of dinner preparations drift through the windows, a symphony of noise accented with the savory scent of something delicious wafting through the air.

Just as we reach the porch, the door swings open, and we’re met with the sight of Gabe, arms crossed, sporting an exaggerated expression of disapproval. “Well, well, if it isn’t tonight’s sacrifice,” he teases, grinning widely despite himself.

“Nice to see you too, Gabe,” I reply, chuckling as we walk past him and into the chaos beyond.

Gabe watches, grinning like he’s got money on the main event. Gianna is cool as a cucumber, though I can tell she’s bracing for the family express about to barrel into our lives.

No sooner have we crossed the threshold before Mr. and Mrs. Bearly emerge, full of genuine warmth and uncontainable excitement. Mrs. Bearly sweeps Gianna into a hug first and then turns to me, her eyes animated and full of welcome.

“You must be Sawyer!” she exclaims, pulling me into a surprisingly strong embrace for someone so small. “I’ve heard so much about you from the boys.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, too, Mrs. Bearly,” I reply, trying to match her enthusiasm. “I’m scared to know what they said.”

“Oh, don’t worry too much.” She waves a hand. “I never take what they say too seriously. Now, call me Mom! We’re all family now, and you’re stuck with us.”

The words hit me in a way I didn’t quite expect—direct, kind, and absolutely devoid of any pretense. Family. That’s new to me, and nice as hell.

“Mom it is, then.” I chuckle.

Meanwhile, as if on cue, Mr. Bearly sidles up with a presence that could make a man quake if they didn’t know how much love lurked beneath that gruff exterior. He gives me a handshake, grasping my hand hard enough to bring tears to my eyes.

“Call me Dad,” he says, his tone good-natured, but then leans in closer, his voice dropping to a good-natured growl. “But you should know, if you hurt my daughter, me and the boys will make sure they never find your body.”

It's not so much a threat as it is a statement of fact, delivered in his matter-of-fact, unconcerned voice. I find myself smiling, hoping to meet his intensity with sincerity.

“I love Gianna,” I assure him, completely earnest, absorbing the weight of his intent. “I’d rather cut off my hand than hurt her.”

He holds my gaze for a moment before breaking into a wide grin. “Good to hear. Let’s get you a drink.”

We settle in the living room, exchanging stories amidst the clamoring din of dinner being prepared. Lennon and Grant watch while Gabe spins tales of Gianna’s youth that have her cringing with the kind of horror only siblings can incite. Gianna remains slightly mortified, but her eyes shine with happiness, making my chest swell with something undeniably warm.

Just as I’m considering whether to initiate a topic change and save Gianna from further embarrassment, Mom calls us to the dining room for dinner.

Gianna’s hand finds mine under the table, and I squeeze it gently, reassuring her I’m surviving the interrogation.

Driving away from the Bearly household, a sense of relief and happiness settles into my soul. Next to me, Gianna reclines in the passenger seat, a slight smile playing on her lips.

“Feeling better after I survived the Bearly Family inquisition?” I laugh.

Gianna turns her head to look at me, her smile widening. “Heck yes. I’m glad you weren’t scared off. I plan to keep you forever.”

“I’m so glad to hear that, hot stuff. I love you so fucking much and there’s nothing in the world that could scare me off.” I laugh, remembering the barrage of questions, affectionate teasing, and enough stories about Gianna’s childhood to fill a novel. “Your family definitely knew how to make me feel welcome.”

“Our family,” she corrects, laughing happily, and my inner bear relaxes for the first time since I first laid eyes on her. “There’s nothing like a Bearly interrogation, one part shakedown, two parts therapy session,” she quips, reaching over to gently squeeze my hand. “You did great, by the way. They loved you, and now, you’re stuck with all of us.”

“I’m one lucky motherfucker.” I pull up in front of our house and hop out. I open her door and pull her into my arms.

“Yes, you are, sloth boy, and you’re about to get a whole lot luckier.” She reaches between our bodies and wraps her soft hand around my cock and gives it a squeeze.

Fucking hell, life is good.