Page 28 of Grumpy Bear

I waved away his regret and stepped toward the dresser, which he was standing right in front of. It took him a really awkwardly long moment to figure out where I was trying to get to. There wasn’t much of a walkway in my little shack.

He finally slid past me, swapping places. Even after being rained on and rolling in my sheets, his scent still reminded me of warm chamomile tea. It was like he didn’t have the capacity to smell bad. Like sunshine was locked in his wavy blond hair.

I rummaged deep in a drawer, looking for one of my shirts that wouldn’t fit him like a dress. There was an old Bear Mountain Lodge T-shirt from when I’d first come here sixteen years ago. It had been a little small on me even back then, tight in a way I’d thought—in my dumbass youth—was “hot.” With all the physical labor I started doing once I moved here, I outgrew it pretty quickly, but I’d never gotten rid of it for some reason. Some sentimental bullshit I would never admit. Wayne had given it to me, and although nobody would know from looking around this cabin, this whole campground was a shrine of common objects we never got rid of because Wayne had touched them.

Luke sensed some hesitation in my handing it over. “If there’s a laundry room I can use, I’ll wash it with my clothes and get it back to you.”

I shrugged. “Whatever.” A part of me hoped he would return it. He seemed the type who did what he said he would or at least intended to. But it was the only shirt I had small enough for him that even remotely made sense as a staff work shirt. “The real issue is going to be shorts. What are you, like a fucking twenty-nine-inch waist?”

“Close,” he said cheerfully. “Thirty-one.”

I wanted to roll my eyes but managed to grunt instead, handing him a pair of size thirty-four cargo shorts I had left over from when they’d fit during the last decade. “Hope you brought a belt.”

He grinned and went to his pack. He pulled out some wet clothes, peeling a few items apart helplessly.

“Hang them on the pegs. I’ll show you the laundry later.”

He produced a belt with a flourish. “Ta-da!” He went to drop the basketball shorts but paused.

I read his mind. “You’re gonna have to go commando, buddy. You wearing my underwear is a little too much for me.” I refrained from saying that if I knew he was wearing my underwear I’d have the constant urge to rip them off him.

Luke chuckled, and his face reddened.

I turned my back to get dressed, giving us both some semblance of privacy.

He looked like somebody’s little brother in bad hand-me-downs. Even the medium shirt was a little loose on him, and my old shorts swallowed him, even cinched and bunched up like a drawstring sack around his waist.

He spun for me, trying to pretend he wasn’t embarrassed.

He looked ridiculous, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. The rest of the guys would probably tease the fuck out of him anyway. He was the new guy. If it wasn’t this, it would be any number of other things.

I tossed him a ball of clean socks and stepped into my own boots. “Listen, you can stay here and finish your coffee if you want to. I need to get over to breakfast and go over my lists with Jim. Check on the goddamn pool.”

There was a part of me that wanted to get away from him simply because I hadn’t spent this much time in somebody’s presence in… I didn’t know how long. Even Jim made sure to break up our conversations into five- or ten-minute sessions, tops. I could handle small doses of company as long as I had plenty of alone time.

The full truth was—and I hated to admit it—I was nervous about what it might look like if we walked in to breakfast together, him obviously wearing my clothes…

“Cool.” He swallowed a mouthful of coffee and set his mug on the butcher block. He smiled happily. “I’ll walk with you.”

As I’d dreaded, he kept perfect pace with me. We were like a couple of little soldiers, but shockingly he opted for companionable silence. I did not hold the dining hall door for him to enter before me. I made a point of holding it only long enough for him to grab it and not have it drop in his face.

Sure enough, every head in the dining room swiveled to watch us enter together. I headed straight to the buffet line, quickly grabbing my usual.

Luke stepped up beside me making happy noises and comments about the spread.

I ignored him, focused on making sure my body language said I am not getting breakfast with this guy. We happened to be in line at the same time. It happened with dozens of men every day. It didn’t mean anything.

“I love sausage,” he said with genuine enthusiasm and zero irony, using tongs to grab both links and patties.

“Load up on protein,” I said. What the fuck? It was out of my mouth as soon as the thought formed, bypassing all my filters. I glanced around to make sure nobody had heard me say that to him. “You’ll need something to stick with you until lunch.”

He flashed me a genuine smile. “Got it, boss.”

This guy was seriously immune to my cold shoulder.

I made a beeline for my usual spot with Jim. He sat alone but was making loud conversation with somebody at the opposite end of the long table. Other members of the staff trickled by, murmuring good mornings. The majority of men who made it to breakfast were usually hungover. Jim at least had the good sense to keep things simple and happy. The average human being was not up for sun salutations and daily horoscope readings at this hour.

No sooner had I sat down than we both overheard the question from across the room. “Well, well, well.” Austin’s voice rang out loud and clear. “Where’d you sleep last night?”