Page 3 of Bearly Chilly

“Motherfucker,” he grumbles, and I can hear rustling on the other end of the line. “I just got to sleep an hour ago,” he complains. “Let me go out to the living room so I don’t wake up Bethany.” Fuck. I forgot his pregnant mate has been struggling to find any comfort as her due date approaches.

“I’m sorry to call so late, but I really need your help. Fast.”

“What’s going on?” Clay is all business. He owns an IT Company and has the ability to investigate just about anything.

“First, I need to swear you to secrecy.” I don’t want him telling my family about this before I have a chance to.

“Fine,” he grumbles. “I promise not to rat you out to your parents.”

“I met my mate tonight.” The dead silence on the other end of the line tells me I managed to shock the fucker. “And I need you to find out everything there is to know about her.”

“Fucking hell.” He goes straight into work mode. “Give me everything you know and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you.”

Chapter 3

Lennon

The moonlight spillsthrough the slats in my blinds, painting stripes across the foot of my bed. I lie there staring at the ceiling, listening to Oreo’s rhythmic snoring. My little stinker has somehow managed to commandeer most of the blankets and ninety percent of the queen-sized bed. Typical. He’s cocooned in the covers, leaving me with a chilly sliver of sheet that does a poor job of keeping the night air at bay.

My icy toes aren't the only reason I'm wide awake. I can't shake thoughts of the stranger down the hall. "Handsome" seems too simple a word, yet nothing else quite captures him. I remember everything about him as the memory of our brief meeting runs through my mind on a constant loop. My girly bits wake up as I recall how he towered over me, commanding and imposing. His rich black hair perfectly framed his rugged face, while his dark, intense eyes stared into my soul. His strong jaw, accentuated by a neatly trimmed beard, added a touch of refinement to his raw masculinity.

I nearly fan myself remembering the sight of his broad chest, sculpted with the precision of an artist's chisel, speaking of strength and discipline. Elaborate tattoos adorn his skin, weaving a tapestry of color and design across his chest and cascading down his arm. The intricate ink tells tales of its own, adding layers of mystery to him.

There was something magnetic about him, a warmth in his smile that still lingers in my mind. We crossed paths in the hallway for just a few minutes, but it was enough to etch an impression I can’t seem to erase.

I turn over for the hundredth time, trying to find a comfortable spot, but warmth eludes me. Oreo lets out a little snort, oblivious to my insomnia, and I envy his ability to just switch off. If only I could slip into dreams as easily. Instead, I’m wide awake,replaying every detail of the stranger down the hall—the quiet confidence in his voice, the way his eyes caught the light. It’s ridiculous how a brief encounter can unravel a night’s rest like this.

The hours drag on, and soon, the first hint of dawn creeps through the window, so I give up fighting to sleep. Quietly, I slide out of bed, careful not to disturb Oreo, who stretches a paw into the newly vacated warm spot. He sighs in contentment, and despite myself, I smile.

In the bathroom, I start the shower, waiting for the water to warm up. The steam begins to curl around the shower curtain, a comforting contrast to the chill that’s seeped into my bones. I step in, letting the water cascade over me and soothe my tired body.

I close my eyes and let the warmth envelop me, determined to wash away the lingering thoughts of a stranger who seems to have unsettled my world.

I'm pulling my warm cable knit sweater over my head when a knock sounds at the hotel room door. My heart does a little leap, that familiar, treacherous rhythm quickening with anticipation as I wonder if it’s Grant. I’ve been replaying yesterday in my mind, hoping I’ll get the chance to see him again.

My heart races in my chest when I glance through the peephole and see it’s him.

Taking a deep breath, I pull the door open to find him standing dressed in a pair of well-worn jeans and a navy-blue turtleneck that show off his massive muscular body. His smile warms me, and I feel myself melting from the inside out.

“Good morning,” he greets, his voice as smooth as the rich brew I desperately need.

“Good morning,” I manage to reply, trying to sound casual and not like my pulse is racing a marathon.

“I thought I’d stop by and see if you’d like some help taking Oreo out this morning,” he offers, gesturing to the sleepy French Bulldog snuggled in the pile of covers on the bed. Oreo perks up at the mention of his name, his ears quivering with interest.

“Oh, that would be great.” I can’t believe he actually came to me. “Let me just grab his leash and stroller.”

I turn to fetch it, taking a breath to steady the excitement bubbling inside me.

Oreo bustles over, clearly ready for his morning adventure, and I clip on his leash, stealing a glance at Grant. He waits patiently, and I sense that he’s the kind of person who’s as good at listening as he is at speaking.

Once we’re ready, we step out into the hallway. The small hotel seems pretty busy for this time of the morning. Grant matches my stride as we walk, Oreo trotting happily ahead, the day’s possibilities stretching wide before us.

“So, what brings you to this neck of the woods?” He takes my hand in his, and electricity sparks down my spine.

I glance up at him and swallow. “For work. At least, I thought it was for a job, but things didn’t quite turn out.”

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