Page 14 of Bear’s True Mate

“I sit out here every night.”

“Great.”

“Yep,” I said, taking another swig of my beer.

What was with all the attitude?

“You weed-eated at seven o’clock.”

There it was—the reason.

“I did.”

“While I was working.”

“Didn’t realize you were still at it. Figured you’d be done by then.”

“Well, I wasn’t.”

“Got that.” I took another swig. “For the record, I waited. Could’ve done it at five when I got home.”

She made a sound that was half scoff, half laugh, like she wanted to be mad but couldn’t quite commit to it. “You want credit for that?”

Damn, that was a good one. I almost grinned.

“A thank you would be nice,” I said instead.

“You’re not getting one.”

“Didn’t think so.”

The silence that followed wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t hostile either. It ranked somewhere in between.

My bear was locked in on her, though. The same way he’d been every time she was nearby. It was a low, constant awareness that I couldn’t shake no matter how hard I tried. He tracked the way she lifted the wineglass to her lips, the way the breeze moved her hair around her face, the way her thumb rubbed back and forth across the arm of the chair.

I should have gone inside to watch a game or done anything other than sit five feet from a woman who made my bear act like he’d lost his damn mind.

“Your fictional characters not talking to you today?” I asked instead.

I’d meant it as a dig. A light jab, the kind of thing I’d throw at anyone I was bickering with. She didn’t catch it that way. Her shoulders dropped, and she let out a long sigh of a breath.

“No,” she said, her gaze remaining on the ocean. “They’re not.”

That wasn’t the answer I’d expected. I’d expected her to fire back and call me a name or tell me to mind my business. Maybe toss me a sharp look or a frown. Instead, she sounded tired and frustrated beyond belief.

“It’s this book,” she said, her tone low. “Well, the hero, I know what I want to write him like, and how I want him to feel on the page, but every time I sit down to write him, he comes out wrong. His vibe feels off. He’s flat.” She glanced at me, and then shook her head before turning her gaze back to the waves. “Forget it. You don’t care about this.”

“I didn’t say that.”

She glanced at me again. This time there was a guarded expression on her face, like she was trying to figure out if I was messing with her.

I wasn’t.

To be honest, that surprised me as much as it seemed to surprise her.

Before either of us could say anything else, her phone buzzed on the arm of her chair. She flinched, and her whole body went tight. I watched her as she picked up her phone and stared at the screen. All the color seemed to drain from her face. She swallowed hard and then set her phone back down on the armrest. Her hand shook as she brought her wineglass to her mouth and took another sip.

My bear noticed all of this, too.