Page 33 of Beary In Love

The great horned owl watched them from its cage, golden eyes wary. Logan's bear recognized a fellow predator, but the bird was clearly hurting.

"Poor thing." Serena approached slowly, her movements calm and precise. "Let's take a look at you."

Logan helped her prep the examination table, falling into a comfortable rhythm as they worked together. When she needed gauze, he had it ready. When she reached for antiseptic, he'd already uncapped it.

"Steady him for me?" She slipped on latex gloves.

Logan's hands bracketed the owl's body, careful but firm. His fingers brushed Serena's as she worked, sending little jolts of electricity up his arms. Her face was close to his, brow furrowed in concentration as she examined the wing.

"Remember that eagle we helped in high school?" he asked.

"The one that tried to take your nose off?" She smirked. "Good times."

"You laughed so hard you snorted."

"I did not!" But her eyes sparkled.

"Did too. Sounded like a piglet. Just like yesterday."

She hip-checked him, and his bear hummed in pleasure at the contact. Being near her like this, working in sync, felt right in a way he couldn't explain. Didn't want to explain, if he was honest with himself.

"Hold him just a bit tighter," she murmured. "This part might hurt him."

Serena soon finished treating the injured owl and Logan put him back in his cage. Logan then carried the owl's cage to an outdoor enclosure while Serena gathered her supplies.

Once safely inside his enclosure, the bird's golden eyes tracked their movements, more alert now that the pain medication had kicked in.

"He needs to take it easy on that wing." Serena's hair had started escaping her bun, wisps framing her face. "I can whip up something to speed the healing."

Logan followed her to his workshop, watching as she laid out her ingredients with efficiency. Logan felt something stir deep inside of him at how at home she looked in his space.

"Can you pass me that mortar and pestle?" she asked.

"Yes ma'am." He handed it over, deliberately letting his fingers brush hers.

"Don't 'ma'am' me, Steele." But her lips curved up.

"Whatever you say, doc."

She crushed herbs with quick, precise movements. The workshop filled with earthy scents - chamomile, yarrow, something spicy he couldn't identify. Logan leaned against the workbench, content to watch her work.

"You're hovering again," she said without looking up.

"I believe this is still my workshop."

"Mmhmm." She measured out a purple liquid. "Make yourself useful and hand me that bottle of moonflower extract."

"Bossy." But he grabbed it anyway, enjoying their easy back-and-forth.

"You love it." She froze, cheeks pinking as she realized what she'd said.

Logan's bear perked up at her slip. "Maybe I do."

The air thickened between them as Serena stirred her potion. Steam curled up, carrying hints of mint and honey. She was biting her lower lip - an old nervous habit he remembered well.

"Almost done," she murmured, breaking the tension. "Just needs to simmer for a few minutes."

"Good thing I cleared my schedule then." He crossed his arms, making no move to leave.

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