Page 22 of Wooded Bliss

Which is why the second I close Blooms Happen, I march right over to my delivery van, which is also my personal vehicle because having two seems like a waste of money. I climb in and slam the door with panache and determination.

On the drive, I take in the scenery. I love the forests surrounding Whispering Pines. The trees are tall, and wildlife has a chance to thrive out here because people respect nature and the importance of protecting it. I’m grateful to live in a place where there isn’t a lot of deforestation and development. We don’t need any of that here.

My stomach starts to knot more and more the closer I get to the road that leads to the giant lodge and then Thatcher’s home. I slow as I pass the lodge, wondering who lives there. I don’t have to wonder very long because I notice Grady on the front porch. His mouth opens and closes a few times, the shock clearly written across his face, but I don’t stop to say hello.

I’m pretty sure if I stop now then I’ll turn around. And I have a certain giant of a man to confront.

Refusing to lose any steam, I climb out of my van the moment I park in front of Thatcher’s place. There’s a certain stillness inthe air and my heart sinks because I know, without even going to the door and knocking, Thatcher isn’t home.

How do I know that? It doesn’t make any damn sense, but I just know I’m right.

As I huff out a breath, I contemplate what my next move should be. Is Thatcher over at the lodge? If Grady lives there, then it’s possible Thatcher spends a lot of time there. For some reason, the thought doesn’t feel quite right.

Even though I try and keep my focus on the front of the cabin, my eyes keep drifting to the side of Thatcher’s home and into the trees. I get the same feeling I had the other night when I walked out into my backyard and met that bear.

How strange.

Before I can decide what to do, my eyes widen as the same bear I met days ago lumbers out of the trees. He doesn’t stop until he’s only a few feet away from me, his eyes fixed on me the entire time. This time I don’t feel any fear which surprises me.

A very large brown bear is far too close to me for comfort, but everything in me wants to run to the bear and throw my arms around his neck. It would be stupid to give into those impulsive thoughts, but they’re there all the same.

“What is wrong with me?” I mutter the words more to myself than anything else.

I’m certainly not talking to the bear. That would be silly. Maybe. I think.

Something like understanding lights up in the depths of the bear’s eyes and he takes a step closer to me. I should back up, slowly of course, but I don’t. My heart should be pounding in mychest, but the peacefulness I feel in this bear’s presence has me relaxing instead of freaking out.

The bear must take my reaction, or lack thereof considering my stillness, as permission because he steps even closer. I can feel the heat coming off his large bear body. He takes a deep breath, moving the air around me and I swear his eyes roll back in his head.

“I never thought I’d have a woodland princess moment, but here I am,” I whisper.

The bear’s lip curls back and then something changes in the air. I don’t know how to describe it; it’s like the barometric pressure changes or something. One moment I’m looking at a huge brown bear and then within seconds, Thatcher is standing in front of me.

Right where the bear was.

And he’s naked.

My mouth falls open and my entire body freezes. I have no idea how to begin to process what just happened.

Is this when I run? Should I scream?

Nothing comes out of my mouth even when I do open it. My feet won’t move either. So, I guess both those options are out.

“What the fuck just happened?” My voice is so high that Thatcher winces. Or maybe he winces because, you know, he just went from being a bear to being a human right in front of me. “You were just a bear,” I screeched like he doesn’t know what just happened.

I’m internally screaming at my feet to move, to run. But I don’t.

Considering the man in front of me just shape shifted, or whatever, he’s far too close to me. That’s not even mentioning how naked he is right now.

“I am a bear,” his voice is soft, like he’s talking to a skittish animal.

My eyes widen at his easy admittance. How is he so casual about this whole thing? I have so many questions without a clue where to start.

“You were just,” I wave my hands over his body to try and encompass what I just witnessed, “and then you turned into this.”

“I did, Birdie,” he says my name like a prayer.

“I don’t understand,” I look up at him, pleading for him to explain what the fuck I just witnessed.

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