Page 2 of Bear With Me

Oh, right. He was in the woods, in his rented cabin, and he’d taken a nap. Ok, cool, all was well. He stretched and yawned, then scratched his belly idly. He supposed he should get out of bed rather than languishing in it for the rest of the day. If he slept any more this afternoon, he’d never sleep tonight. Still, it was worth grumbling about, and he did so as he climbed out of bed, listening to his knees and hips pop as he moved. Damned middle age.

Scratching his belly again, he wandered into the kitchen. How long until the grocery delivery arrived? He’d set it for between 3 and 4, and it was now… He checked his watch. 2:45. So food should be there soon, thankfully. He had it in his head that he was going to grill a steak for dinner, and woe betide the grocery delivery person who failed to deliver that steak.

He leaned against the kitchen counter and again surveyed the space that would be his for the next two weeks. There was a television on one wall of the great room, with a couch and an armchair facing it, but he didn’t envision himself watching too much of that. He’d rather read, most of the time. Other than that, there was only the bed nook, in one corner of the cabin, and the bathroom, separated from the rest of the cabin by its door. Not a whole lot to it, but then again, there was only one of him, and he had been looking for simple. So he was pretty satisfied, actually.

With another yawn, he walked back to the bed nook and grabbed his shirt to put back on. No use greeting the delivery half-naked. Just then, he got a push notification from the grocery service informing him that his delivery would be arriving between 3:32 and 3:41. Oddly specific, but okay. That meant he had nearly forty-five minutes to kill before they arrived.

Sigh, he was back to trying to decide what to do with himself. What was wrong with him? For ages, he’d been dying for a simple, solitary vacation where he could do very little. Now he had it and he was suddenly stir crazy. Snorting at himself, he crossed to the cabin’s front door, shoved his feet into his shoes, and pulled the door open. He’d explore his land for a few minutes before settling in to await the groceries.

He knew there was supposed to be a creek behind the cabin, so he shut the cabin door and circled the building. He heard splashing as he walked and wondered if maybe the creek was stocked with fish. Maybe he could acquire some fishing tackle this week and see if he could catch some? He was considering that (Pro: another activity. Con: fish guts) as he came around the corner to the back of the house.

And froze.

The most attractive man he’d ever seen in his life was standing, butt-naked, beside the creek, inexplicably holding - with the utmost delicacy - a dying trout between his full and luscious lips.

What…and he could not stress this enough…the fuck?

2

Bjorn

Oh god. Oh god, he was here! Bjorn had been sitting in bear form, snacking on stream-sourced fish, one minute, and the next he was standing bare-assed as a human, facing who had to be his fated mate. That was the only thing besides the alpha of his den that could have compelled an involuntary shift, and he was pretty sure Alpha Escalus was nowhere around here.

So he was…well, “shocked” wasn’t a strong enough word. He’d started to believe, as he aged through his thirties, that he just wouldn’t meet his mate. That fate just hadn’t created one for him, for whatever reason. And then he’d arrived at this vacation rental, decided to do some stream fishing to blow off steam before he went inside, and now his fucking mate was standing there, staring at him. Well, maybe at his dick? Reflexively, he dropped a hand to cover his junk. Shifters weren’t a modest people, as a rule, but he wasn’t used to being looked at quite like that.

“Um, hi,” he tried to say, only to realize that he still had a trout in his mouth. Oh god, that was embarrassing. He spat out the offending fish and tried again: “Um, hi.”

The man’s blue eyes were huge in his face as they roamed from Bjorn’s groin to his face, past his shoulder, and then back to his face. His mate was stocky, of above-average height. His black hair was cut short, but had grown out just enough that Bjorn could tell it would be curly if left to its own devices.

“Sorry for the shift. I’m -” he started to introduce himself.

Before he could get the name out, though, the man’s gaze sharpened and he snapped out, “Nope.”

Bjorn blinked. “What?”

“Nope. I said ‘nope’,” the man repeated. “I am not doing this. I’m goddamn sick of normal people hulking out randomly just because they met their fuckin’ mate or some shit. At least once a week, someone wrecks my bar and then is all like ‘Well I met my mate, and I couldn’t stop the shift’ and I’m like ‘Well maybe you should think about stuff like that ahead of time when you shift into a goddamn motherfucking rhino.’” He paused, catching his breath after that rant. “So no. No, we are not doing this.”

Bjorn could only stare at him. That was a lot of information, and little of it sounded good. “What exactly is ‘this’?” Bjorn finally managed to get out. “What aren’t we doing?” And if it came out sounding a little plaintive, well excuse the fuck out of him.

“This!” He moved his finger back and forth between them. “You shifted because you think we’re mates, right? And I’m not doing the mates thing. That’s chaos, and I don’t do chaos.” He paused. “Don’t look at me like that!”

“Like what?” Like he was trying not to cry because his mate was standing there rejecting him? Because he wasn’t sure he could look any better even if he tried.

The man groaned and wiped a hand down his face. “The fucking…puppy dog eyes. Don’t!”

“I can’t help it!” Bjorn exclaimed, trying to surreptitiously wipe under his lashes before the tears could escape. “I’m not trying to look at you any which way, it’s just happening! Do you…” He bit his lip. “Do you really not want me? I mean, you don’t even know me. How could you know you don’t want me?” There, that was reasonable, right?

“I don’t need someone who can’t control their shifts destroying my shit. I don’t know the first thing about you. You could be a criminal or a serial killer, and I’m just supposed to be like ‘Oh the invisible sky fairies matched us together, I will love you forevermore, let’s commingle our lives and belongings?” By the end, the man was waving his hands, gesticulating wildly. “Who does that?”

Well, shifters did. But clearly Bjorn’s mate was not a shifter. Also clearly, he needed better bouncers at his bar if this was the stuff he was worrying about. But Bjorn didn’t think saying that would help. “So what you’re saying is you need time to get to know me?” he summarized, determinedly hanging onto the good news.

“What? No!” He flapped a hand at Bjorn. “We’re not doing this, we’re not a thing, and I don’t want to get to know you. Now get the fuck off my property.”

That had Bjorn blinking again. His property? “Oh, you own the cabin?” he asked. That was actually convenient. It would give Bjorn a reason to talk to him again!

“No, I’m just renting it for a couple weeks, but for that time, it’s my property, and I want you off it.”

“Uh…” Bjorn pointed behind him. “That cabin? Right there?”