Page 9 of A Bear in a Birdbath

Not until Margo kissed her.

Suddenly, there was electricity under all of her skin and she was on fire from her toes to the top of her head, and all she wanted was Margo’s touch and the warmth of her arms.

So when Margo kissed her, Eva kissed her back.

She was so strong, soft, and safe. Eva couldn’t understand how the meeting of their mouths could be both exciting and so comfortable at the same time. This was home. It was belonging and craving and calming, all at once.

Eva didn’t want to analyze why Margo might kiss her, she only wanted to enjoy it, to lean into the beautiful moment and make the most of it.

So it was very annoying when there was suddenly a noise at the doorway, and Margo released Eva very abruptly and turned to find something to throw at a dark figure filling the doorframe.

The closest thing to hand was a massive pink marble flamingo statue. Margo picked it up effortlessly and hurled it at the interloper.

9

BRUNO

Bruno considered himself a reasonably intelligent man. He knew he wasn’t brilliant, like Tobias, or as wildly charismatic as Frank, but besides banging out some decent art, he could balance his own finances and hold up his end of most conversations.

He was not exactly proving his mental capacity now.

The marble flamingo that came flying at him when he entered Frank’s office was the first distraction.

Shifter reflexes helped him duck the missile (it was more aerodynamic than most actual flamingos) and it hit the wall behind him and broke into three jagged pieces.

Frank is going to kill someone for that, Bruno thought.

But the second distraction was his cave bear in his head.

For the most part, his cave bear was a quiet companion. He mostly wanted to hug people, nap, and stuff himself on sweets, keeping his conversation to single words of suggestion. But now, he was like a one-bear brass band in Bruno’s head, repeating the same line of music at maximum volume.

Our mates! Our mates! Our mates!

The Amazon who had taken shelter in the birdbath with him was the catapult of the stone flamingo, and she was even more breathtaking at her full height and bristling protectiveness.

Behind her was a crouching figure that would have been tiny even without the foil of the other woman, surrounded by a pile of open folders, a flashlight on the floor casting them into sharp shadows. Was that Frank’s awful poetry?

Our mates! Our mates! Our mates!

It was impossible to think around his cave bear’s triumphant caterwauling.

“Eva, get out of here!” The woman he’d kissed was casting around for something else to throw at him. Frank’s desk was full of unfortunate fodder. A plush flamingo dog toy squeaked off of Bruno’s shoulder.

“I can’t go yet!” Eva was wildly tossing folders aside. “You go!”

Our mates! Our mates! Our mates!

Bruno realized that he should be reassuring them that he wasn’t going to hurt them. He knew that he was a terrifying brute of a man, and the room was dark. But when he tried to form words around his cave bear’s litany, it only came out, “Owl ates! Primates! Too late!”

Our mates! Our mates! Our mates!

Will you please shut up so I can make real words?

Our mates! Our mates! Our mates!

Which one?

HUG THEM!

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