Chapter Four

Bert

My brother owed me. Big-time. While he was on his way to a staycation, if that was the right term for being in someone else’s home, I was stuck here, watching over the human he’d swapped houses with.

Who swapped houses anyway? I mean, I’d heard of vacations and renting other people’s homes during vacations but switching houses?

I finished my morning chores, grumbling the whole time about Rudy and his silly plans. Christmas wasn’t a fun time for me. Not because I didn’t get the whole spirit of things but because I was alone, yet again. There was no point in getting a tree or stringing up lights. The only Christmas cookies I partook in were from the bakery in town.

I wasn’t a bear who baked cookies to share with my brother.

Fate hadn’t smiled on me yet in the mate department. Of course, I was lonely but I tried not to let it fester. My mate, I was sure, would show up exactly at the right time and probably when I least expected it.

My bear had zero patience for Fate. Zero. And, this morning, he had none for me either.

He wanted to break free from my human side and run, run until his paws wore out and his anger and frustrations were long gone, but we couldn’t right now. It was hunting season and there was almost surely a human on the way.

We had enough trouble with the humans with guns who lived around here, but now we’d invited one onto our land and into one of our homes.

Perfect, Brother, perfect.

Groaning, I stomped to the window and moved the curtains back to see a car coming up the driveway. The vehicle was small and coughed as it climbed, not suitable for the country life.

For fuck’s sakes, the thing was slinging rocks everywhere.

No more time to groan about a human being on their way to our home—our safe zone. A human wasn’t on the way. He was here.

Shit. Time to put on the fake grin and bear through this.

Rudy always said my natural smile was terrifying to humans. He said I looked too much like my bear when I tried to be friendly.

So, I made it a habit not to interact with humans any more than necessary. From what I could see, they were destructive and usually unkind to anyone who wasn’t like them.

I waited until the car came all the way up the driveway until it forked—one way toward my cabin and the other right up to Rudy’s garage. The driver paused for a moment, looking at both cabins and then veered to the right. At least they had a sense of direction.

Hopefully that good sense would lead them to the key, and then they would leave me alone for the rest of this week.

But, knowing my brother, he’d told the human I was right next door anytime they needed something. Just knock on his door. Bert never goes anywhere.

Rudy owed me. Big-time.

I cleaned up after lunch, grumbling at every shutting of the door and boot step up the porch steps. But I soon heard a different sound outside. At first, I thought it was a wind chime or some other kind of music, but once I stepped outside the front door, I saw the source.

A little girl making snow angels and giggling like she had no care in the world. She flung her arms and legs out and then slid them back, creating the wings and skirt. Looked like it may have been her first time in the snow. I pursed my lips, trying to deny the smile that threatened to take hold. This must’ve been the human’s daughter.

Rudy said nothing about a kid, but one human or two—didn’t make a difference. They were both a danger to this sacred place we’d made.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled as my bear took interest in the kid. Usually little humans were loud in a way that bothered my beast, but this one’s giggles and smiles made my chest warm despite being outside in the cold winter air.

When I bounced down the stairs of my porch, the sprite took notice and stopped her leg kicking to raise her head and look at me. “Who are you?” she asked and then sat up carefully, not disturbing her artwork. Snow covered her hair, and her cheeks were rosy.

“I’m Bert. Who are you?”

“My name is Natalie. Sometimes people call me Nat, but I don’t like that. There are bugs called gnats, and I don’t like bugs. Daddy says the bug’s name is spelled a different way, but I still don’t like it.” Her cheeks turned redder. She crossed her arms over her chest and stomped her foot at the word bug .

Hopefully, Rudy’s cabin didn’t have bugs in it.

“Do you live here?” she asked.

“I do. This is my cabin.”

“It’s a nice cabin,” she said, looking it over.

“What are you doing out here, Natalie?”

“I’m making snow angels and dancing in the snow, silly.”

Silly. No one called me silly and got away with it, but I chuckled at her boldness. I wasn’t a small man, and Rudy said my scowl scared the locals.

Silly.

“There’s no music,” I replied and sat down on my step. The young lady needed a hat or a scarf. Gloves even.

“I have music in my head, and the birds are chirping. Duh.”

This tiny human was something else. Had more attitude than there was snow out. “Why are you dancing out here when it’s warm inside? Don’t you want to go inside with your dad?” Warm and safe and away from danger. Humans thought wrongly that shifters were dangerous but, to me, the guest next door and the one twirling in the sunshine were more threatening than anything.

They threatened my safety. My freedom to shift as we pleased. And, in the last few seconds, the sweet silence I loved to revel in.

My bear rumbled at the sight of her. She stirred up his protective nature. Probably because she was so short.

Strange.

“Because if I dance, the fairies and the frolicking bears will come out and play with me.”

I shook my head and closed my eyes. “Bears don’t frolic,” I gruffed back. Frolicking seemed like a big word for someone so young. Huh. She was smart and cute.

No. No, I didn’t think humans were cute. Especially their offspring.

Bothersome creatures. Pests.

Oh, who was I kidding? I’d give anything to have some cubs of my own.

“They do too. They frolic and dance and do this…” She whirled around with her fingers bent at the knuckles portraying claws. Natalie even let out a small roar. Impressive.

“Where’s your father?” I asked, not wanting to discuss bears and frolicking.

“He’s inside.”

The father was inside while his young was out here, in the snow. Anything could happen to her while she was alone. It took only seconds for something to go wrong.

“His boot broke. He’s inside trying to fix it.”

“I see.”

He should really keep better watch over his young.

My thoughts must’ve stirred the man because the front door of Bert’s cabin flew open. “Natalie, are you okay? Who are you talking to?”

He turned to me, and I sucked in a breath. My bear stirred. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He had wavy brown hair and bold green eyes. He was lean and had a bit of scruff on his face.

His brow furrowed as he did a double take. “You must be Rudy’s brother Bert. I’m Conrad.”

I didn’t confirm or deny. I didn’t know this human. “Did you fix your boot?” I asked, tipping my chin to the right boot that had been duct-taped back together. A smart temporary fix, but it wouldn’t last long around here. Plus, humans got colder than we did. Those wouldn’t do. I immediately tried to size him up, wondering if I had some boots that would fit him. Or if my brother did. It would serve him right to lose one of his pairs.

My bear wanted to do more than fix his footwear though.

He wanted to warm this human in all kinds of ways.

“Kind of. This is my daughter, Natalie.”

The little girl did a bit of a curtsy making me chuckle. “We’ve been introduced.”

“Daddy, tell Mr. Bert that bears do frolic and dance in the forest. I tried to tell him.”

Not this again.

Conrad chuckled and my bear reared up inside me, loving the sound as much as the singsonging of the young female.