Page 26 of Curvy Girl and the Boss Bear
For a shifter who's waited forty years to find his mate, it's more than enough. "I'll take it," I say, pulling her close again. "And Ruby?"
"Hmm?"
"Thank you. For not running. For seeing me—all of me—and still being here."
She rises on tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. "Thank you for trusting me with your truth. For sharing your world with me."
As I hold her in my arms, this remarkable woman who faced the impossible with courage and curiosity rather than fear, I feel something settle inside me. The restlessness that's haunted me for years, the bear's constant searching, the man's lonely existence, all of it quiets in Ruby's presence.
Tomorrow brings the audit, and after that, the full moon. Challenges await us both. But for the first time, I'll face them not as a solitary creature caught between two worlds, but as a man who's finally found his missing piece.
And judging by the way Ruby fits against me, by the acceptance in her touch, by the wonder still shining in her eyes… She might just have found hers too.
Chapter 10 - Ruby
I sit across from the IRS auditor, a stern woman named Mrs. Finch with wire-rimmed glasses and a voice like dry leaves. Cole is beside me, his massive frame somehow contained in the small chair, his presence both comforting and distracting after everything that happened last night.
"And these equipment maintenance expenses," Mrs. Finch says, tapping a manicured finger against the spreadsheet I prepared, "they occur with unusual regularity."
"Preventative maintenance," Cole explains, his voice steady despite the tension I can feel radiating from him. "Mountain weather is hard on machinery. Better to service regularly than face costly breakdowns."
I nod in agreement, sliding over the documentation we prepared. "You'll see the schedule aligns with manufacturer recommendations. It's actually saved Blackwood Construction considerable money over time."
Mrs. Finch doesn’t say a word, but I see approval in the slight relaxation of her shoulders. We've been at this for nearly two hours, and every question has been met with organized documentation and clear explanations. The chaos I encountered when I arrived is nowhere to be seen.
"And these cash withdrawals?" she asks, turning to the section I knew would be challenging.
Cole tenses beside me, but I smoothly intervene. "Emergency funds for remote job sites," I explain, presenting the detailed expenditure reports Cole created. "Construction in these mountains often means working in areas with no cell service, no credit card processing. Cash ensures work continues uninterrupted."
Mrs. Finch examines the reports with narrowed eyes. "Rather substantial amounts."
"Rural construction has substantial unexpected costs," I counter. "But as you can see, every dollar is accounted for in these reports, and the profit margins align with industry standards."
She peers at me over her glasses, clearly trying to intimidate. I meet her gaze steadily, channeling the same courage that allowed me to face a shifting bear-man last night without running screaming into the forest.
After what feels like an eternity, she closes her folder with a decisive snap. "Well, Mr. Blackwood, your records are in surprisingly good order."
Cole's leg presses against mine under the table—a silent thank you. "I have Ms. Oliver to thank for that."
Mrs. Finch glances between us, "Yes, well. You'd do well to maintain this level of organization moving forward."
"That's the plan," Cole says, and I feel the weight of meaning behind his simple words.
As we wrap up the meeting, I experience a curious mixture of emotions: professional pride in a job well done, personal satisfaction at having protected Cole's business, and underneath it all, a lingering amazement at the supernatural reality I've stumbled into.
Bear shifters exist. Magic is real. And somehow, impossibly, I'm the fated mate of the brooding, beautiful man beside me.
Mrs. Finch gathers her things, shakes our hands, and finally leaves. The moment her car disappears down the driveway, Cole turns to me, relief evident in those forest-green eyes.
"We did it," he says simply.
I smile up at him, feeling strangely giddy. "Was there ever any doubt?"
His answering grin is beautiful. "Not once you arrived."
In that moment, standing in the afternoon sunlight filtering through his cabin windows, I realize I have another decision to make. One even more important than facing mythological creatures or saving a business from the IRS.
Do I stay? Do I explore this impossible connection? Or do I return to my predictable life in Atlanta?
