Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16684 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 67(@250wpm)___ 56(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16684 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 67(@250wpm)___ 56(@300wpm)
“This is it.” Grant grins, walking over, his breath puffing out in little clouds. “Welcome home, baby.”
“Thank you.” I don’t correct the ‘baby’ nickname thing because… well, because my hussy lady bits love hearing his deep, soothing voice calling me baby.
He leads me in through the garage door, and the home is even more stunning on the inside. The cabin is a blend of wood and warmth, with big windows letting in light and an inviting gas fireplace that crackles to life when Grant hits a button on his phone. It's decorated in a way that speaks of comfort but with a certain rugged charm that suits Grant perfectly.
We settle Oreo on the large leather sofa before Grant shows me around, pointing out his cozy reading nook and a huge kitchen that seems built for huge family gatherings. Then we head outside and around back.
He shows me his workshop in the main garage where he makes gorgeous furniture. I look at all the tools and gear hanging on the well-organized walls and realize my polar bear mate is a neat freak.
There’s a separate detached garage with an upstairs apartment. It’s nothing like what Henry tried to pass off. This place is adorable, with slanted ceilings and rich wooden beams. There’s a little kitchenette, a snug living area, and a cute bedroom with a window overlooking the woods.
“This’ll be your space until you decide to move into the main house with me,” Grant says, his voice so warm it completely turns my insides to mush. “You can fix it up any way you like.”
I look around, picturing how I’d settle in, and the knots of worry I’d been carrying since I decided to quit my high-paying job to live more simply start to loosen bit by bit. “I love it,” I admit, turning to him with a smile. “Thank you, Grant. This is more than I expected.”
He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck, seeming a little bashful. “I’m glad you think so. Let’s get your stuff unloaded before the weather decides to change its mind.”
We spend the next hour unpacking the cars. Oreo trots around, inspecting his new kingdom, and I can’t help but laugh at how he seems to have appointed himself head of security, barking at every rustle in the trees.
As we carry the last box inside, I take a moment to look around once more, feeling a warmth spread through me that has nothing to do with the heat from the fireplace. For the first time in a while, I feel at home.
Settling into Grant’s cabin has been like slipping into a favorite sweater—it just feels right. Over the next few days, life settles into a comfortable rhythm that I didn’t even know I was craving. Oreo has taken to lounging near the fireplace, and his happiness is as contagious as ever.
Keeping the place clean is a breeze. Grant must have some serious cleaning habits because the house was so spotless when I arrived that it’s more about maintenance than anything else. I dust here, sweep there, and pretty soon, it feels like second nature.
The kitchen is where I really start to feel at home.
One morning, enough groceries to feed a small army is delivered by the local market. Grant has thought of everything, from fresh vegetables to all kinds of meats and spices. It’s a little thing, but having a stocked pantry at my disposal makes the transition so much easier.
I start off simple, whipping up breakfast omelets stuffed with cheese for both of us before Grant heads out to his garage workshop to work on his next furniture order.
By evening, I’m roasting a chicken with thyme and lemon, the comforting aroma filling every corner of the house. Every time I cook something new, Grant acts like I’m some kind of culinary wizard, showering me with compliments as if I’ve just rediscovered fire.
In between chores and meals, we find time to talk and get to know each other better. We have these long chats over coffee in the morning where Grant shares stories about growing up here and the adventures he used to get into. I tell him about my own past and the stressful job that made me rethink all my career decisions.
One night after dinner, I finally get up the nerve to ask Grant about shifters. ”What do you want to know, baby?”
I don’t even know where to start. “Everything.”
“Have a seat, and I’ll break it all down for you,” Grant says as he plops down next to me on the L-shaped brown leather sofa. It’s cozy here, and I feel a little thrill that he’s going to spill the beans about his world. “So, first off, while I have an inner polar bear, I don’t go full bear mode like hibernating for months. Instead, my bear loves long winter naps—about twelve to fourteen hours at a stretch.”