Substitute Santa, page 8
I knew I was in love with him, she had told Mira once, when we sat through this ridiculous timeshare presentation to get this super-discounted vacation. We weren’t even dating then, just friends willing to park our butts in folding chairs for four hours to collect a prize. I already knew he was the kind of guy I could happily spend a week with. But as we sat there and the presenter drone on and on, and I watched Cliff try not to laugh at something, I knew I could sit next to him for the rest of my life. If anything was boring—and a lot of life is boring—he would make it interesting. He’d make it funny. And he was the one I wanted to laugh about things with.
That was the love story Mira had grown up with, and it was the one she wanted for herself.
She didn’t want to rush things, but Wade made her feel like she might have found it. It was amazing how much more tolerable this job was since he’d arrived.
Even on a day when Marsh’s plan had meant an all-day headache and a temporarily ruined voice, Wade had brightened up her life. She already knew that when she remembered all this later, she wouldn’t remember almost crying in frustration about putting up with a straight hour of screechy “Jingle Bells.” She’d remember Wade coming over and giving her a break. She’d remember him dancing with the kids to keep them occupied.
And she’d obviously remember him introducing her to the best garlic bread of her life.
As the food came—and she was faced with the best fettucine alfredo of her life—Mira steered Wade onto the subject of woodworking. She wanted to hear more about what he did for a living.
He’d been self-conscious about his fiction idea, but he was apparently fine talking about wood. So fine, in fact, that he kept asking her if she was sure he wasn’t going on about it for too long.
Mira gave him the thumbs-up every time. The truth was, she was fascinated. His work sounded interesting in its own right, but even more than that, she loved how vibrant and engaged Wade got when he talked about it.
She could spend all night listening to him talk about how beautiful wood grain could be and how carefully he chose the right kind of wood for each project.
At any other restaurant, Wade’s dinner would have gotten cold in front of him, but it was clear that nobody let that happen at Nonna’s. Even though Wade got caught up talking about his vocation, he still remembered to take a bite from time to time.
He wound down as they finished up, giving her an apologetic smile. “I probably got carried away.”
Mira shook her head as adamantly as she could. That still didn’t feel like enough, so she risked a little more actual conversation: “Not at all. I promise.”
“Well, next time, when your voice isn’t on the brink of going out completely, you’ll have to give me the rundown on your family and your job.”
“You know a little already.”
“A little’s not enough,” Wade said, with such sweet sincerity that Mira just wanted to climb across the table and—
—hug him. She would go with that. That was almost an appropriate thing to do in public.
But you know what? They were going to get the check any minute now, and Nonna’s, as glorious as it was, didn’t have a dessert menu. They were almost done being in public. If Mira stuck to the sensible, levelheaded plan that had seemed so feasible just a few days before, she would let that be the end of the night.
That idea still made sense. They could reconnect after the holidays, once she was less stressed. She had never rushed into a relationship before. And was right now the best time to rush anyway? More and more, anything she said was coming out in a strained whisper.
I don’t need my voice for what I’ve got planned, though, she thought, with a little shiver going down her spine. I’ve never been that good at dirty talk anyway.
She had a lot of perfectly sound reasons to go home alone, and only one reason not to: Wade.
But Wade was reason enough for her.
“Do you want to go back to my place for dessert?” she said, hoping the hoarse whisper was more “seductively husky” than “bad impression of Batman.” “I’ve been meaning to make Christmas cookies.”
That couldn’t possibly be the best she could do. She racked her brain for some more appropriate euphemism, something dessert-themed but less misleadingly wholesome, but she wasn’t coming up with anything.
Well, if she couldn’t set up an actual seduction, at least she could continue the fully clothed part of the date.
“And I know I can’t talk much, but I can listen. We can finish our conversation from before?” she added. “About shifters?” Just to be on the safe side, considering how shy he’d been about anyone else hearing his idea, she mouthed the last word instead of saying it.
Although with the way her voice was wavering in and out, it might not have been audible even if she had said it.
“We can do that,” Wade said. He pressed his lips together for a moment, like he was getting ready to leap off a diving board. “I don’t know if you can see where I’m going with this, but—I can show you? If that helps?”
It took her a beat to realize that he must be talking about the manuscript. He must have a copy of it saved on his phone.
Well, it wasn’t the only thing of his she was hoping to see tonight, but sure, she would still be delighted to take a look. She couldn’t get over the fact that he was writing something. That was fantastic.
“I see where you’re going,” Mira confirmed. “And I can’t wait.”
Wade gave her sunniest, most joyful smile she’d ever seen: he must have really been waiting for someone look at this for him.
“I hope you won’t be disappointed,” he said. “I guess I should ask in advance if you like bears.”
Oh, his shifters turned into bears? It was funny how perfectly that gelled with what she’d been thinking about for him. He would made a lovely werebear, so it didn’t surprise her that that was the kind of character he’d written.
Maybe one of his werebears could get a podcaster girlfriend.
I can make the case for that tonight, she thought with a grin.
Chapter Eleven
We’re going to reveal ourselves to our mate, Wade’s polar bear said, its dark eyes openly jubilant. She will see and understand us, and we can tell her that we’re meant to be together.
His polar bear was essentially the voice of his subconscious, and by the time those feelings bubbled to the surface, they had usually calmed down a little. Not now. Wade felt everything his bear was feeling. If anything, he might feel it even more. Every inch of him, every particle of his soul, was vibrating with anticipation as he followed Mira into her apartment.
He was too distracted to spare their surroundings much attention, but even so, he could tell that Mira’s home was very Mira, and that made him love it. He spotted several framed posters of romance movies: When Harry Met Sally, His Girl Friday, Love & Basketball, and Moonstruck all jumped out at him. Her shelves groaned with books, with the bright rainbow spines of romance novels scattered about like flowers amid the more sober-colored mysteries, classics, fantasies, and thick volumes of film history.
The apartment’s most notable fixture then came up and meowed at him.
Mira crouched down, stroking her fingers through her cat’s fur. “Wade, this is Bigfoot. Bigfoot, this is Wade.”
“I can see how he got his name. Will he let me pet him?”
“I don’t know,” Mira said, pursing her lips. “He doesn’t usually even come out of hiding for new people. Try it?”
“I’m honored,” Wade told Bigfoot, slowly lowering himself down beside Mira and doing everything he could to telegraph his movements so the cat wouldn’t be surprised. He let Bigfoot sniff his hand a little, and when that didn’t set him off, he carefully petted Bigfoot between the ears.
“Bigfoot, I’m so proud of you,” Mira said, doubling down on the petting. “You’re being so brave!”
Bigfoot purred so loudly that it was like a jet was coming in for a landing.
“Seriously, he’s never been like this with anyone else I’ve brought over,” Mira said, marveling at the way Bigfoot pushed his whole face into Wade’s hand. “My parents have been here plenty of times, and he never comes out when they’re around. They like to joke that he might as well be the original Bigfoot, that’s how few people get to see him.”
“Although at least your pictures of him aren’t blurry.”
“That’s true.”
Wade wondered if Bigfoot could sense the mate bond and was reacting to that. Maybe that was also why Fiona had gravitated to the sound of Mira’s voice on the podcast. It was like both cats were thinking the same thing: This is my person’s person, so they must be okay.
They both reluctantly straightened up and gave Bigfoot a break from all the adoration. He sauntered off to meow insistently at the automated feeder until it gave him his dinner. Wade had the same one for Fiona, and she was probably doing the same thing right now. It was on a timer, but Fiona always seemed sure her plaintive cries were what made it work.
“So,” Mira said. Her voice cracked again, but she powered through it. “What do you want to do next? Cookies? Or shifters? Or—?”
He was unbelievably tempted by that tantalizing, lingering “or.” But while he didn’t think it would be wrong to sleep with Mira before he’d managed to tell her he was a shifter and her true mate—he would have been falling for her even if he’d been totally human, so what came after that “or” was inevitable for them anyway—he didn’t like the idea of getting this close to revealing everything and then getting distracted. Even if they were the ones doing the distracting. It would be better to have it all out in the open.
Besides, it seemed like Mira already knew something. She’d said she hadn’t heard of shifters, but he had seen the idea click as he’d told her a little more.
After he’d mentioned werewolves, right? Maybe she had a werewolf friend?
“Shifters, if that’s okay,” Wade said. “So ... you’re good for me to show you? And you said you like bears, right?”
Mira nodded. “Love them. And go for it.”
That was all his polar bear needed to hear. It gleefully barreled forward, and Wade took a deep breath and let it leap to the surface.
Some shifters naturally transformed slowly, with one body gradually melting into the next. They could feel themselves sprouting fur and changing shape.
Wade had always been more on the instantaneous side of things. He changed in a flash: human to polar bear, or vice-versa, in the blink of an eye.
This was the first time it had occurred to him—unfortunately belatedly—that that might be kind of alarming.
Mira jumped back and cried out in surprise.
For once, her lost voice came in handy. The full-throated yelp that would have immediately summoned all her neighbors instead came out as a stifled, barely audible squeak.
“Oh God,” Wade said, already human again before he could even think about it. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!”
She stared at him with saucer-wide eyes, clearly speechless ... and then broke down into uncontrollable laughter.
“I’m sorry,” she said in between wheezes. “I thought you were writing a book!”
Wade blinked. “A book?”
“Or a screenplay! I thought you’d come up with this cool idea about people who could turn into bears, and you were writing something about it, and ... I have to sit down.”
There was a couch just a few feet away, but Mira folded up onto the floor instead. She pressed her fist to her mouth to catch the last few incredulous guffaws.
Wade sat down beside her. “I thought maybe you were friends with a werewolf,” he offered.
She turned her head and buried her face in his shoulder, her shoulders shaking with new I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening laughs.
“No wonder you didn’t want to talk about this in the restaurant,” she said finally. “So there are more people out there like you? People who can turn into animals? Of course you’d want to keep that a secret.”
“And you thought I just felt self-conscious talking about my fantasy novel idea,” Wade said, putting the pieces together. He had to laugh now too. “You were really encouraging!”
“If you wrote a book, I would absolutely read it,” Mira said, and then suddenly she lifted up her head and her lips met his.
Chapter Twelve
Mira could lose herself in this, in the hot glide and press of the kiss, in the way her eyes fluttered closed, blocking out anything but the sensations they were chasing together. She reached up, her hand finding his cheek. As she traced her fingers down and along his jawline, she felt like she would know him anywhere, know him blindfolded, as long as she could kiss him. As long as she could touch him like this.
Her plans for tonight had included sex, but now she thought she would be happy with hour after hour of kissing. She’d probably want to move on eventually, of course, but even as turned-on as she was, she wasn’t in any rush. Something told her that she didn’t have to hurry. Wade would be here. They would have time. Not every cookie had to be grabbed when it first came out of the oven.
Only one thing made her pull back, and she did it breathlessly and with a sharp pang of regret.
It did give her the chance to see what a glorious mess they’d already started making of each other, though. Wade’s hair was mussed, his mouth smudged from her lipstick. He looked as wonderstruck as she felt.
Mira couldn’t resist trailing her fingers through his hair. It was so soft, like short-cut silk.
“Before we get too carried away,” she said, like she hadn’t already been thorough swept—and kissed—off her feet, “can I see you as a bear again? I feel like I didn’t get to properly appreciate it. And you did want to show me.”
“I did.” Wade exhaled. He reached up for her hand, the one that was still entangle in his hair, and laced his fingers through hers. “I do. Just give me a second to catch my breath.” He grinned. “But my polar bear’s delighted that you asked.”
“It’s separate from you? Like a pet?”
He seesawed his free hand. “Not like a pet. More like—an inner voice. Like those old cartoons where someone has an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other, only it’s not good or bad, it’s just human or animal, conscious mind or pure instinct. Shifters always have a human on one shoulder and an animal on the other. I can talk to the polar bear side. Technically, I guess I can talk to the human side too, but since that’s basically what my conscious mind is ....”
“It just feels like you thinking.”
“Exactly.” He let go of her hand and stood up, stretching. “The change will be fast,” he warned her. “I should have thought to tell you that last time. Sorry, I’ve never done this before.”
This had to be the only date where the guy who was apologizing for being too quick and admitting he was inexperienced was talking about revealing his secret ability to turn into a polar bear.
“I’m prepared this time,” Mira promised. “Go for it.”
Boom: polar bear. He wasn’t kidding about the change being effectively instantaneous.
As odd as it was to have a polar bear standing in her living room, Mira didn’t feel a single quiver of fear. Why would she? She knew that it was Wade. Even if his instincts were at the forefront in this form, he was still himself. If she needed any proof of that, all she had to do was remember how he’d turned human again the second she’d screamed. As soon as he’d realized how startled she was, he had wanted to make her feel better.
Those were Wade’s instincts. That was who he was, so it was who his polar bear was too.
Mira came closer, soaking in every detail of Wade’s thick, snow-white fur. His eyes and nose were both a velvety black, making them stand out vividly.
There was so much sheer power standing in front her. He was huge, his strength obvious even in repose. He must have weighed close to a thousand pounds, and she was amazed the floorboards weren’t groaning beneath him. She had seen polar bears before, but only on TV or from a distance, at a zoo. She had never been within inches of one.
She had never petted one and felt its bristly fur beneath her hand.
It wiped out the part of her brain that was capable of irony. All she could do was marvel at the unbelievable majesty of the wild creature before her.
... Of course, she was also a cat owner. Right now, living in her home and sleeping on top of her head at night, was an animal that was basically just a slightly smaller lion. She was used to looking at something built for power and might and cooing over it and singing it silly songs.
So in a way, she was prepared for this. She knew how to react to polar bear Wade once the initial awe started to pass.
She wrapped her arms around him, even though his shoulders were so wide she couldn’t manage a full embrace.
“You are so cute,” Mira breathed. “You have the most adorable black button eyes I’ve ever seen. You are a teddy bear of a polar bear. You are unbelievable.”
She wished that Wade didn’t leave his Santa hat at Honey Brook. She could put it on top of his polar bear’s head. The red would really pop against the white of his fur.
Wade didn’t seem to mind that she found his polar bear as adorable as she did impressive. She had to make herself stop eventually, though. As much as she liked this form, Wade’s human one had the edge—and several definite advantages.
She let herself nuzzle into Wade’s fur one more time, giving him a tight hug, and then said, “You can change back now.”
She was still getting used to how incredibly fast those shifts happened. She’d barely finished telling Wade to change back when her arms were around him instead.
Even better.
“Amazing,” she said contentedly.
It came out even raspier than before, but that was okay. It didn’t matter that her voice was completely shot now. They were about to officially move on to the part of the night that wouldn’t require much talking. From here on out, she could let her reactions speak for themselves.
