"What?" I ask, suddenly self-conscious.
"You're not what I expected," she says, taking a bite of omelet.
"What did you expect?"
"I don't know. When Jim said 'construction company owner in the mountains,' I pictured someone... rougher. Less domestic."
I shrug, uncomfortable with her assessment. "My mother taught me to cook before she died. Said no son of hers would live on takeout and frozen dinners."
Her expression softens. "She sounds wise. My mom was the opposite. Burnt water and ordered pizza three times a week."
The casual mention of her family makes my bear curious. Is her pack nearby? Will they approve of me? I shake off the thought. She's not thinking in those terms.
"This paperwork," I say, redirecting the conversation to safer territory. "Can we fix it before Monday?"
Ruby straightens. "Yes. It'll be tight, but if we work through the weekend, we'll make it."
"We?"
"I'll need you to verify expenses, explain business decisions, sign documents. It's a partnership."
The word sends a shiver through me that my bear responds to eagerly. Partnership. If only she knew how right that felt.
"Whatever you need," I say, perhaps too intensely, because she looks up from her food with a slightly puzzled expression.
"Great. After breakfast, I want to start with your expense categories and vendor relationships." She takes another bite, closing her eyes briefly in appreciation. "This is really good, by the way."
"Thanks."
We finish breakfast in silence. I clear the dishes while she reviews notes on her laptop, the whole scene feeling so naturalit makes my chest ache. This is what it could be like. Every morning. If she knew. If she accepted.
"I should probably head into town later," she says as I load the dishwasher. "Check into the inn, get some things from my car."
My bear rises up so forcefully I have to grip the counter. "Roads might still be bad."
"The sun's out. Surely they've cleared—"
"Stay here," I interrupt, more command than suggestion. I soften my tone at her startled expression. "It's more efficient. All the paperwork is here. You'd waste time driving back and forth."
She looks at me, those warm brown eyes surprisingly perceptive. "Are you sure? I don't want to impose."
"You're not imposing. You're saving my business." And you belong here, my bear adds silently.
After a moment's consideration, she nods. "Okay. If you're sure."
Relief floods through me, my bear settling. She's staying. In my territory. Where I can protect her.
"We should get started," she says, gathering her laptop. "The office still looks like a paper hurricane hit it."
I follow her down the hall, keeping a short distance. Two days until the full moon. Two days to figure out how to tell her what I am. What she is to me. Or to let her go without ever knowing.
The thought makes my bear howl in protest. Now that we've found her, letting her walk away feels impossible. But forcing this knowledge on her, this destiny she never asked for, seems equally wrong.
As Ruby settles at the desk and begins sorting through papers, I watch her from the doorway, caught between man and beast, between duty and desire.
Whatever happens after the audit, one thing is certain: nothing will ever be the same again.
Chapter 4 - Ruby
