Holly’s Grizzly (Monster Relations Bureau #4)

6

Irving

“Alright, tell me where you’re hiding them.”

“Hiding what?”

“The weighted dice you’ve been using to absolutely wipe the floor with me.”

Holly laughs behind her hand, and the sound of it is enough to soothe away the bruise to my pride over losing the last four rounds of Yahtzee. Light, bright, not forced or polite, Holly’s laugh nestles itself right into the center of my chest.

“It’s just luck,” she says with a delicate shrug of one shoulder, not looking contrite in the slightest.

“Yeah, sure,” I say as I stand and pick up the empty bowl of popcorn we’ve been sharing and the two mugs we used for tea and carry them back to the kitchen.

“A degree in mathematics helps, too,” Holly calls after me. “Statistics and probability and all that.”

“Fine,” I call back. “Then next time we’ll play Jenga, and you’ll be cooked.”

She laughs again, and that same satisfied ache kicks up behind my sternum.

Holly has finally stopped thanking me for every little bit of kindness, though from what she told me about her piece of shit ex, the compulsion makes more sense now. So does her hesitance to ask for help, and her insistence to fend for herself.

Understandable, but still not something I’m going to compromise on. As long as Holly’s here, she’s my guest, and she’s going to have to get used to letting someone else carry a bit of the burden she’s no doubt gotten used to dealing with all on her own.

When I return to the living room, she’s curled up on the couch, eyes shut as she rests her head on a throw pillow, though they flick back open when she hears me approach.

And godsdamn, those eyes are beautiful enough to get lost in.

The piercingly bright blue of the sky over the mountain in springtime, they crinkle at the corners when she smiles up at me.

I almost lose it again, the small scrap of restraint holding back my grizzly’s rumble of pleasure, the soul-deep instinct that’s so damn satisfied to see her happy and safe.

A content, relaxed Holly is an entirely different person than the woman I carried through the woods, or the woman who was so adamant about trekking back outside instead of accepting a place to stay. It’s enough to make me want to curl up on the couch right next to her, or, better yet, carry her upstairs and tuck her into the soft flannel sheets on my bed.

“Sorry,” she murmurs. “I’m like ninety-five percent certain I’m about to conk out and end the night early.”

“It’s alright. You’ve had a long day.” Despite my better judgment, I sink down onto the opposite end of the couch. Not close enough for the two of us to be touching, but the proximity makes my fingertips ache. I fold my hands together in my lap and ignore the sensation. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to take the bed?”

With a knowing smile, Holly shakes her head and burrows a little deeper under the blanket she’s got draped over her.

“I’m good here.”

“You’d be better in an actual bed,” I grumble, but she doesn’t budge. “And I really don’t mind sleeping down—”

“Irving,” she says, and the sound of my name on her lips is enough to startle me into silence. “You’re chronically generous, and I’m chronically allergic to accepting anyone’s help. I don’t think either of us are going to fundamentally change tonight, so let’s just get some sleep.”

“I think you’re overestimating my generosity.”

She arches a sleepy brow. “I don’t think I am. And I’m also way too cozy here to let you win this one.”

“Fine.” I huff a laugh. “Let me get you a better pillow, at least?”

She nods, and I guess I’ll have to be satisfied with that as I make a quick trip upstairs to grab one off my bed and slip a fresh pillowcase on it before returning to the living room.

By the time I get back, Holly is nearly asleep. It’s not a surprise after the day she’s had, but some part of me is still a little disappointed to see the night end.

Already, there’s a clock ticking in the back of my mind. As soon as the snow clears and the roads are passable, she’ll be gone.

Which is fine. It’s reasonable that she’ll be on her way as soon as it’s safe for her to do so.

What’s not reasonable is the fact that I’m already dreading her leaving. Maybe it’s just the loneliness of deep winter and how quiet life can get up here, but… I don’t think it’s just that. At least not entirely.

Examining it in any more detail feels like a colossal mistake, so I don’t.

Instead, I walk slowly to the end of the couch where Holly is dozing, and when those blue, blue eyes of hers flutter open and another small, sleepy smile turns up the corners of her lips, I ignore the sharp pang in my chest and hold out the pillow to her.

She lifts her head instead of taking it, and maybe it’s a sign she’s finally relaxing enough around me to be alright with accepting help—or, maybe more likely, she’s just tired enough not to feel self-conscious about it.

Whatever the case, I don’t question it as I slide the pillow beneath her head. I try not to think too hard about it when I drag the tips of my fingers through her fire-warmed hair as she lies back down.

And when I flip off the lights and head up to the loft, I do my damndest not to think of her there, just a few yards away in the darkness. I try not to think of anything at all as I tuck my hands behind my head, stare up at the skylight above the bed, and watch the snow swirl, knowing sleep is going to be a long, long time coming.

I wake to the scent of pancakes.

Wafting up from the kitchen, my mouth’s already watering as I blink blearily and spend my first few waking seconds trying to figure out why the hell my house smells like breakfast.

It only takes a couple of moments for everything that happened yesterday to come rushing back, and just a few more after that for me to be out of bed and halfway down the stairs before I realize.

Shirt. Shit.

I shucked mine off before I went to sleep, and probably shouldn’t be walking around half-naked while Holly’s—

“Hey,” she calls from where she stands at the stove, flipping a pancake. “Sorry if I woke you up, I saw you had everything on hand for pancakes, so I thought I’d return the favor of—”

Cake flipped, she turns, and stops speaking immediately when she sees me standing there, eyes widening as they rove up and down my naked torso.

I clear my throat awkwardly. “Sorry. I’ll go back upstairs and…”

Holly murmurs something from the kitchen, but I’m already retreating and miss whatever it is she says. By the time I make it back down—fully clothed, this time—there’s a bit of pink lingering on her cheeks.

“Sorry,” she says again, and I think I dislike the sound of the word on her lips even more than I dislike thanks . “This is weird, isn’t it? Me just barging in and raiding your cupboards. I should have waited for—”

I reach around her and grab one of the plates loaded up with fresh, steaming hot pancakes that look fluffy and delicious and perfect, then head to the cupboard for a bottle of maple syrup.

“These look great.”

Her cheeks flush pink again, but I think it’s more from pleasure this time as she finishes up the last pancake she’s working on and joins me at the kitchen island. As she does, she gives her hair a shake, and I notice a bit of perspiration on the back of her neck from standing over the hot stove.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a hair tie, would you? I lost mine in the river, and the only spares I had were in my pack.”

I reach over to open the junk drawer at the end of the island. “I think a rubber band is the best I can do. It’s been at least a decade since I wore my hair long enough to need those.”

“Sold,” she says gamely, studying me as she ties her hair up into a messy bun on the top of her head. “And you could still pull it off. You’ve got the whole ‘rugged man of the woods’ thing going on up here. It would fit the aesthetic.”

“The beard’s not enough?”

She tilts her head and gives it so much adorable consideration I have to chuckle.

“It’s a start, but a man bun would be the icing on top.” Her eyes sparkle, and the corners of her full lips turn up in a smile.

Is she… flirting with me?

Probably not, but damn if I don’t like the possibility anyway as we both settle into our seats at the island and dig in. She’s put a pot of coffee on as well, and the coziness of it all strikes me right in the same tender spot in my chest that’s been there since last night.

Gods above, I thought I was a more evolved creature than this.

But no, give me a warm breakfast and a bit of teasing from a pretty woman and the pleasure of her company, and it turns out I’m not complicated at all. I can’t remember the last time I felt this damn content.

After breakfast, we tag-team the clean up before I remember the clothes I put in the laundry for her last night. She takes them gratefully, then heads into the bathroom to change while I finish up the last of the dishes.

Holly pokes her head out of the bathroom. “Mind if I keep your shirt and pants for later? The clothes I was hiking in don’t exactly make the best sleepwear.”

“Leave those in the laundry,” I say, nodding toward the small room off the kitchen. “I’ll get you a fresh set to wear.”

Holly smiles and shakes her head, but doesn’t argue the point as she disappears into the bathroom for a few moments more.

When she reemerges, I have to stop myself from doing a double-take.

The clothes she had on under her outer winter layers are made of stretchy, form-fitting material that hugs every one of her slender curves.

My fingertips ache again, and I have to give myself a mental slap and a silent reminder not to stare, even if that’s nearly impossible.

Holly is gorgeous, smart, and something about her speaks to my deepest instincts to care, to protect, to provide.

But I’m not going to do anything about it. I can’t do anything about it.

Doing anything other than offering her shelter and safety with no strings attached would make it seem like I had some ulterior motive in giving her this place to stay. Even though I didn’t, the idea of saying the wrong thing and making Holly feel awkward at best, or at worst unsafe, while she’s here is repugnant.

The wild attraction I feel toward her is my problem to deal with, not hers.

So I keep my shit together as we finish tidying up the kitchen and face another day of being snowed in together with nothing to do but get cozy and watch the flakes fall.