Holly’s Grizzly (Monster Relations Bureau #4)

7

Holly

As Irving and I lounge around after breakfast, one thing has become very clear.

I’ve got a crush on my rescuer.

Or maybe ‘crush’ is the wrong word.

I’ve never been one to feel this kind of instant, bone-deep attraction, and now that it’s here, I don’t know what the hell to do with it.

It’s not only how he looks—although his ruggedly handsome face and his incredible body really, really aren’t doing me any favors in ignoring this pesky little crush—but it’s just… everything.

I’ve got a crush on all of him.

His kindness and patience and generosity. The way he’s listened and made me feel heard. The way he’s picked up on all my silent cues and seamlessly acted accordingly, never once making me feel like I’m imposing on him by being here.

But even with all that considered, I wouldn’t let myself indulge in this crush if it weren’t for all the little tells that make me think it might not be entirely one-sided.

Irving is not being nearly as sneaky as he thinks he’s being.

At least I hope he’s not.

Because if I’m reading this all wrong, it’s going to be really, really embarrassing when I do something stupid like kiss him.

Which I’m not going to do.

Probably.

Maybe.

But if he keeps looking at me like that…

At first I thought it was just concern. I thought it was just him checking to make sure I wasn’t still messed up six ways from Sunday from my dunk in the river, or about to grab my gear and sneak out because I’m so entirely hopeless at accepting help when it’s offered.

The longer it goes on, though, the more I’m not so sure. All those lingering glances that cut away as I turn to look, the heat I’ve caught in his eyes more than once, the way it seems like he’s deliberately trying to keep himself at a distance.

And covered up, unfortunately. Even though the glimpse I got of him shirtless this morning was enough to remind me I didn’t hallucinate how hot he was when he saved me yesterday, and I really wouldn’t mind getting a little more of that view, it doesn’t seem to be in the cards for me.

Nope, Irving’s been a perfect gentleman, and I absolutely, positively, shouldn’t want to see what he’s like when he’s not being so polite.

I shouldn’t want to ask him if I could join him up in his loft tonight. I shouldn’t suggest bunking up together so the two of us could keep warm, cuddled up under the blankets, skin-to-skin with the fire crackling and—

Down, girl.

I should know better than this. I should leave it well enough alone and not press the issue.

Maybe I am still messed up from my near-miss with hypothermia. Maybe nearly freezing to death rewired something in my usually cautious brain. It flipped a switch that has me lusting after my big, burly, bear-shifter hero when I absolutely shouldn’t be.

But then I catch Irving looking at me again.

We’re both sprawled out on the sofa in his living room, not doing much of anything at all, when I feel the telltale prickle of eyes on me. By the time I look over he’s glanced away, staring at the embers glowing in the hearth from the fire he rebuilt this morning.

The damage is done, though, and all my nerve endings are lit up again, all my bells and signals flashing a bright red ‘oh yeah, he’s interested.’

I wonder if Irving’s single.

There’s nothing around here that hints he’s got a girlfriend—no product in the shower, no hair tie he could lend me—but that doesn’t mean anything. He could have a boyfriend, for all I know, or someone long-distance.

But that question is just one more I shouldn’t think about, so I choose a different topic.

“Is this weather keeping you from any Christmas plans?”

Irving looks a little surprised, like the thought hadn’t occurred to him.

He shakes his head. “Not really. I sometimes stop by my buddy Vic’s house for the Yule party he throws, but that’s about it.”

“No family gatherings?” I ask, immediately realizing how prying that question is, but Irving doesn’t seem to mind.

“Nah. My mom’s up in Alaska and she doesn’t travel much during the winter. Dad died when I was young, and most of my other family lives spread across the back-country of the U.S. and Canada.” He shrugs. “So holidays are never really a big deal. You?”

“Same,” I say, trying for the same level of nonchalance. “I have some family out east I don’t get back to see much. And the last few years I celebrated with Cody’s family since they’re near Seattle, but… well, that obviously wasn’t an option this year.”

Irving nods, brow furrowed and a familiar spark of brooding irritation in his eye. The same one that was there when I told him about Cody in the first place.

It’s just one more mark in his favor, one more thing to feed my little crush.

We talk a bit more about how we’ve spent holidays past, from the typical Christmas tree and Santa years of my childhood to the years he’s traveled up to Alaska to spend a couple of weeks in near darkness close to the Arctic.

The conversation is easy, meandering, woven through with comfortable silence as we sit and chat and lounge the morning away.

After a particularly long lull, Irving rubs a hand on the back of his neck and looks over at me, his expression a bit chagrin.

“Sorry about how boring things are up here.” He nods toward the well-stocked bookcase at the side of the room. “Feel free to grab something to read, if you’d like. Or I could try to dig out my old laptop if you wanted to find a movie to watch on Netflix or something.”

I think for a moment. “You mentioned last night you have a shop where you do your woodworking. Can I see it?”

He glances toward the windows where the snow’s still coming down in thick white sheets.

“If it’s not too much trouble to get out there,” I add.

Irving smiles and shakes his head. “No, it’s not too much trouble.”

We both get ready to venture out in the snow—me in my heavy hiking gear that’s dried out overnight, Irving in what he’s already got on, with a Carhartt jacket thrown on top. He doesn’t bother with any more layers or gear, and I arch a brow at him from where I’m all bundled up near the front door.

“The cold doesn’t bother you much, huh?”

“I have my grizzly to thank for that. I run warm because of him.”

Oh, I know how warm he runs.

Blazing, his incredible body heat. The memory of it makes me ache to curl up next to him again, maybe without the blankets between us this time.

Cheeks heating, I turn and open the door.

Winter hits me like a slap to the face. Flying flakes pelt my cheeks and stick in my hair, and I gulp in a deep lungful of frigid air.

It’s not nearly as painful today, when I’m not making a mad dash through the forest or pulling myself out of the river. It’s bracing, almost refreshing, and when I glance back over my shoulder, Irving is watching me with a small smile on his face.

“Just down that path,” he says, nodding to a building a couple dozen yards away from the main house.

As I start down what only marginally qualifies as a ‘path’ considering how much snow is already covering it, my boots slip on the layer of ice below, and Irving is right there. He scoops me up, lifting me into his arms and carrying me the rest of the way to his shop.

I huff a laugh. “Now you’re just showing off. I do know how to walk, you know.”

“Can’t be too careful,” he says in that low, gruff, delicious voice of his, even more tempting with how close he is.

Apparently he’s more than able to carry me with a single arm as he uses his free hand to open the door into his workshop and steps us both over the threshold before setting me back on my feet.

Inside, the whole place is decked out with tools and workbenches and projects in various phases of completion. A set of rocking chairs in one corner, an armoire in the other, a huge table in the center of the room made of a slab of gorgeous oak, carefully carved and crafted into a beautiful showpiece.

“Irving,” I breathe, running my fingers over the table’s smooth, polished wood. “This is incredible.”

Irving shrugs, bashful again. “It’s something my grandfather taught me when I was growing up. And I just kept learning. I did my apprenticeship, and then spent some time with another highly renowned craftsman out of Portland who specializes in furniture-making, and eventually I found myself here.”

He tells me a bit about the other pieces he’s working on as we make a slow circuit of the room, some of the stories that come along with the custom orders he receives, and his passion for his work is clear in his voice. It shines through bright and endearing, and it’s just one more thing I admire about him.

It also makes me think more about my own work, work that’s started to feel less and less appealing over the last couple of years. As my priorities have shifted, so has the conviction I used to feel about being in corporate life, climbing ladders, all that bullshit. I’m still not sure what to do with all those nagging doubts about where my career path might lead, but it’s refreshing to hear Irving talk and see how much he’s accomplished for himself.

We stop near a wide work table at the back of the shop, and I lean against it, taking it all in.

“This is great,” I say. “All of this is so amazing, truly. Your shop, your life up here. I’m impressed.”

I swear I can see a bit of pink climbing over the line of his beard, but Irving just shrugs again. “It’s suits me pretty well. It’s home.”

“What made you choose to settle up here? Doesn’t it ever get lonely?”

He runs a hand over the back of his neck. “It’s always been… a part of my nature. The need for solitude.”

I nod. “I get that. It’s part of what made me get into hiking, the need to have some time alone with my thoughts and no one else around. The solitude can be incredible.”

He makes a low noise of agreement in the back of his throat, but his eyes go distant for a moment in thought. I take a page out of his book and wait to see if there’s anything more he might want to say.

“I grew up in Canada, in a place not all that different from this one. Mountains, forests, plenty of room to roam. But when I got my apprenticeship and had to move to the city, I thought it would be alright. Change of pace, you know? Something different.”

“And it didn’t exactly suit?” I guess.

Irving huffs a soft laugh. “That would be an understatement. I… I used to think there was something wrong with me. I could never get over all the noise and the lights and the cars. Too much to process, maybe. Just more than I could ever really handle.”

He lapses into silence, brow furrowed.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you, Irving. I think we’re all just a little bit… different. And if a city’s not your thing, it’s not your thing.”

His eyes cut back to me, a tentative smile turning up the corners of his lips.

“Besides,” I tell him, catching that smile and answering it with one of my own, “cities are overrated anyway. Why do you think I’ve spent the last year running away from mine? There’s something to be said for the solitude.”

“I suppose that’s true.” He scrubs a hand over his beard, then looks down at me with an expression on his face I can’t quite read. “Not that it can’t be lonely sometimes, too. Especially around this time of year.”

The moment stretches out between us. Silent, weighted, but somehow not uncomfortable. Like we understand each other even though we barely know each other.

I probably shouldn’t read so much into it, and I probably shouldn’t be spilling so much of my heart out to a stranger.

But we’re still in this weird, yet somehow completely natural space of trust and intimacy, so the words tumble out without me giving them much thought.

“Yeah, I… I get that. And I wasn’t fully honest earlier. I did have… other plans. For the holiday, I mean.”

I tell him about Nora and Elias and their beautiful home on the coast. I tell him about Kenna and Blair and their whirlwind romance. I tell him how spending the holiday with them sounded like way too much warm, cozy happiness to handle.

“I feel awful about it, you know? Avoiding them probably makes me a terrible friend, but I just… couldn’t. Being alone sounded better.”

The shame of it all settles heavy on my shoulders, but Irving only makes a low, understanding noise in the back of his throat. When I meet his gaze, there’s no judgment there.

“Taking the time and space you need to heal is nothing to be ashamed of, Holly. I’m sure your friends would understand that.”

My throat tightens, but I nod slowly. “Yeah, I think they would.”

I know they would. They’ve been patient as hell with me as I’ve processed my breakup and tried to keep a brave face. They’ve made it clear they’re here to talk about it, even if I’ve mostly kept it to myself. They’ve remembered to include me and made time for me even while both their lives have changed so drastically in the past year, while they’ve been off finding their happily ever afters with their mates.

Irving’s words also remind me I forgot to call them last night like I said I would, and I resolve to do that as soon as we get back into the house.

“Come on,” Irving says. “I’ll show you the rest of the place. I think I’ve got that old laptop I mentioned up in the guest apartment. If you want, I can bring it down to watch a movie or something later so you won’t lose your mind from boredom.”

I laugh as I follow him toward a set of back stairs. “I’m not bored. I like it up here. I like the solitude… and the company.”

Another weighted moment, a pause as Irving turns to face me, some unspoken thought hovering in his expression. He chooses to discard it, though, offering me another smile as he leads me up the stairs.

But in that pause, there are a hundred different ways I might read that stoic expression of his. Heat and wanting, hesitation, like he can’t quite bring himself to acknowledge… whatever this is between us.

And that’s fine.

I’ll just have to make it clearer.

I’ll have to try harder to make it obvious I don’t just like his company, I really, really like it. And I’d like it even better if we could both drop the polite little dance we’ve been doing.

I make that resolution, too, mind whirring with the ways I might help him shed all of his hesitation and give in to this wild, unexpected magick brewing between us.

“So, what you’re saying is that he’s probably not a backwoods ax murderer?”

“Kenna,” I hiss into my phone, looking over my shoulder to make sure Irving hasn’t come back inside the cabin. “No, he’s not.”

I don’t know how good his hearing is, but I definitely don’t want him to walk in and hear my friends speculating on whether he’s some kind of criminal.

“We have to ask, Hol,” Kenna says matter-of-factly. “I mean sure, we know where he lives and all that, but you could still be in danger.”

“I’m not in danger.”

“Good,” Nora cuts in, much more encouragingly. “I’m so glad he found you before anything bad happened, and got you somewhere safe.”

“Yeah, me too.”

I could add that safe is a colossal understatement, but I’m a little worried I’ve already given myself away to my friends in the way I talked about Irving at the start of our conversation.

It turns out that worry isn’t entirely unfounded as Kenna speaks back up after a few-second lull in our three-way call.

“So… is he hot?”

“Kenna,” I hiss again, but I’m not sure she heard me over the deep male voice that pops up on the other end of the line where she has us on speaker.

“Who’s hot?” Blair, her dragon-shifter mate, asks.

“The grizzly Holly’s shacking up with.”

“I’m not shacking up with anyone,” I groan.

Blair’s voice is clearer when he speaks again. “I could still shift and fly up there to get you.”

“And then have her freeze to death when you fly her back down through a blizzard?” Kenna asks.

She’s not wrong.

Kenna had thrown out the possibility during our first volley of texts when I let them know where I am, but the prospect wasn’t very appealing then, and is even less so now. As much as I like Blair, the idea of climbing up on dragonback and flying through the storm kicks up a dull ache of icy dread in my bones.

“I’m alright,” I say, and there’s a little more muffled back and forth on her end before Blair’s voice fades away.

“Sorry,” Kenna says. “Six months mated, and you’d think he’d be a little less grumbly when I’m talking about how hot your shifter is.”

“Kenna,” Nora warns, but I swear I can hear a smile in her voice.

Kenna sighs dramatically. “Okay. Fine. And I’m glad to hear you’re safe, Hol. Really.”

I gave them both the rundown of the last day and a half, and they seem much less likely to call in the cavalry to save me than they did when we first got on the phone.

I should have done this sooner. I shouldn’t have felt that same stupid urge not to bother them, and just twenty minutes on the phone with them has my spirits even higher than before.

Even if it’s also a reminder of just how much I’ve been holding back from them this last year.

“I’m sorry I missed your holiday party, Nora.”

“There’s always next year,” she says.

“I know… I just… I feel like there’s more I should be apologizing for.”

“What do you mean?” Kenna asks.

I swallow hard. “I mean… acting the way I have since me and Cody… well, since everything happened. I know I haven’t talked about it much, and I’ve been off doing my own thing a lot, and I just… I feel like I haven’t been a very good friend.”

After a few seconds of rushed protests from them both, I cut back in.

“We don’t have to hash it all out right now,” I say, letting out a short, shaky laugh. “But can we talk when I get back? There’s a lot I want to tell you both.”

“Of course,” Nora says.

“You know we’re always here,” Kenna adds.

“I know.”

And I do, I really do. Even if I forget sometimes. Even if I’ve been lost in the fog this past year and haven’t always seen it clearly, it’s time to get my head back on straight and remember they both love me, broken bits and all.

After a couple more minutes, and with promises to keep them updated about when I make it home, we hang up. I settle back into the soft cushions on Irving’s couch, and it’s just a few more minutes after that before he reappears from outside.

He claimed he needed to get a couple of things done in his shop, but I’m almost certain that was a fib to give me some privacy to talk to my friends.

As he shrugs off his jacket and comes to join me on the couch, that little bit of consideration is just one more thing to admire about him. It’s one more sappy, gooey ache in my chest, and one more reason I’m determined to find out if I’m the only one feeling this way.