Page 12 of Her Painter Bear Mate

"I've always been in awe of your compositions, of your strong lines, of the way---"

"I can't paint!" Dee interrupted, so loudly, a few people turned their heads towards her. Her cheeks burned and she wished she could sink through the floor, disappearing from sight. Potentially forever.

Clarissa's face mirrored the shock. "What?"

"I've not painted anything in months. Or rather, finished anything. I hate everything I do. Hate it. It all looks wrong, like some toddler made it or someone who has never painted in their life. It's shit. I'm creating shit. I'm shit," Dee admitted in a whisper, her heartbeat hammering in her skull. She didn't know what had come over her or why she'd just blurted this out. And to her rival, of all people. This was humiliating.

"Everyone goes through painter's block from time to time," Clarissa said gently, so gently it hurt.

Dee took a big swig from her wine. "It's not a normal painter's block. It's like I can't breathe, can't think. I feel like I've lost something and I don't know how to get it back."

"Hmm... Maybe you should come to my Outdoor Painting class then."

"This isn't a joke."

"I'm not joking. A change of scenery might be good for you. And who knows, maybe it'll help? Worth a try, right?"

Dee tried not to scoff at the suggestion. If she was honest, Clarissa was the last person she wanted help from but at this point, she was so desperate to paint and love it again, she was willing to try anything.

EIGHT

Clarissa

Clarissa hummed to herself as she drove her campervan along the bumpy forest trail. The smell of the nearby forest came in through the cracked window and it was her favourite scent in the world. It had rained recently and it made everything smell earthy. If she wasn’t here to paint, she would’ve taken the opportunity to shift into her bear form and feel the wet forest under her paws.

She arrived at the agreed spot, her eyebrows raising when she noticed Dee was part of the group waiting for her Outdoor Painting class. When she had extended the offer, she hadn't actually expected Dee to show up but here she was.

She parked her campervan, badly, and hopped out. The ground was hard from the frost but she didn’t mind. She loved the way the forest looked during the beginning of winter.

Bork was already scratching against the inside of the door, desperate to be let out like he didn’t have a comfy bed and pillow at his disposal.

“Alright, bossy,” Clarissa said as she let her canine companion out of her studio on wheels. The smell of paint and turpentine wafted out together with a hint of dog.

Bork barked, his tail wagging enthusiastically from side to side. He loved these painting trips as much as she did and instantly greeted the class with excited yips and tippy taps.

Clarissa repeated her usual routine at the start of a class, which included greeting everyone and collecting attendance in case there was some sort of mass accident and the emergency services needed to know exactly who had been there.

She paused in front of Dee, trying to hide how pleased she was that the other woman was here.

"You made it."

Dee let out a shivery sigh. "Why is it so cold? Why did I think this was a good idea again?"

"Because you're going to have fun," Clarissa said, holding out the clipboard. “Signature, please.” She held the pen out, teasingly pulling it back at the last second.

The unimpressed look on Dee’s face held a hint of amusement. “What are you, five?”

“Five and a half,” Clarissa joked, holding the pen back out. It was too easy to mess with Dee, it always had been. It was also easy to remember why she’d developed a crush on her in the first place.

Dee hesitated for a moment before snatching the pen from her. She scribbled her name down with long elegant strokes, the letters round and long. It looked more like an autograph than a signature. Knowing her, it likely was. She handed the clipboard and the pen back with purpose, her eyebrows raised as if to say that this was how normal people did it.

A smile lifted Clarissa’s lips. Somehow, it made a very boring mundane thing kind of fun. That was the thing about Dee. While she was all stoic and distant, there was a lot more to her than could be seen at first glance.

Once everyone was signed in, she started pulling easels from the van.

“Let me give you a hand with that,” Gerald offered. He was an older gentleman who still dressed like it was the fifties and looked all the more fabulous for it.

He helped with the easels and passed them along to Rosemary and Beth, a middle-aged married couple who came to the painting sessions every Sunday. They were adorable together and Clarissa often found herself thinking she would love a relationship like that. A relationship warm with companionship and compatibility. Two people who completed each other in a way only fated mates could.

---