Chapter 7
Chance woke early the next morning. From the silence in his room, he knew that Isabelle still slept. He crept silently from the couch, folding his blankets before padding outside to piss off the front porch. The morning was brisk, but the storm had subsided during the night, leaving feet of snow in its wake. If he weren’t a shifter, he’d have frozen his damn feet just taking a leak. As it was, he frowned at the glistening snow knowing he had hours of shoveling ahead of him today. Worse, he wasn’t sure if the road to Isabelle’s aunt’s house would be plowed today or not.
Back in the cabin, he washed his face and hands at the kitchen sink before quietly preparing breakfast.
Just as he’d finished buttering several slices of toast to go with the hot cereal he’d prepared, he heard motion coming from his room.
“Isabelle? You up?”
“Y-yeah.”
“You need help in there?”
“No. I’m good.”
Her words sounded strained, so he settled the plate of toast on the table before walking to the bedroom door and peeking in. He’d kept it open last night so warmth from the fire could filter into the room. Inside, Isabelle was braced in the frame of the bathroom door like she’d just been coming out.
“Hey!”
His word brought her head snapping up.
“You okay?”
She grinned with a grimace. “Is it possible that I hurt worse today than yesterday?”
“Hell yeah.” He crossed to her, but when he bent to pick her up she shook her head and jerked her chin toward the bed.
“Just help me get there, okay?”
Annoyed, he let her slide her arm over his shoulders as his arm circled her waist. She leaned heavily into him as he guided her to the bed.
“Of course you’re more sore today. You walked a damn marathon yesterday in blistering cold while wearing the wrong shoes. Matter of fact, I think you should have breakfast and go back to bed for a while.”
He’d expected her to argue. Instead, she peeked up at him with those eyes he’d been thinking about all night and asked softly, “You…you wouldn’t mind?”
“Hell no. Besides, it snowed about three feet last night. Road to your aunt’s won’t be open, and I’ve got about three hours’ worth of shoveling out there.” He looked out the window. “We can do breakfast and then you can rest until I come back in for lunch. Sound good?”
Isabelle held his gaze, and when tears flooded her eyes he tensed. What did I say?
“Thank you.” She looked down. “No one’s…” she shrugged. “No one’s cared for me in a long time. I really appreciate you being patient with me, and…”
Her lower lip started to tremble, and in an effort to avoid watching a total breakdown that he had no idea how to handle, he cut her off.
“Your ex was a dick. Letting a woman sleep in isn’t a big deal, Belle. Especially when she’s ill or injured.” Without asking, he lifted her into his arms and carried her out to the kitchen. “Let’s eat so you can get some more rest.”
Breakfast was a quick affair with Isabelle thanking him too often, making him uncomfortable. She finished all her hot cereal, claiming her aunt made it on cold days too. He smiled when she said it reminded her of home. Something about that statement made him feel warm inside, like he’d gifted her something special when it was just plain ol’ Cream of Wheat.
Once Isabelle was nestled back in bed and he’d stoked up the fire, he went out and got to work. The shoveling went by faster than he’d expected, his animal laughing at him the whole time because they both knew it was so he could get back to Isabelle and make sure she was good.
Back in the cabin, he checked on her and noted she slept soundly, so he snuck back out and shifted behind the cabin, letting his wolverine have his skin. His beast wasn’t like the natural wolverines that called these mountains home. The Blackfeet in the state called the wolverine a skunk bear, their broad bodies displaying white or cream stripes along their sides like a skunk. Their feet were dinnerplate sized, boasting wickedly long sharp talons, while a mouthful of vicious-looking teeth with terrifying canines filled a broad, pointed snout. Overall, they resembled a grizzly bear in a shorter, more vicious form. Chance’s wolverine took the whole skunk bear persona to new heights, literally, as he was comparable in size to even the mightiest of grizzlies. His massive feet, tipped with razor sharp claws, were ideal for navigating deep snow, so today would be a breeze for him in animal form.
Heading north, he decided to check the roads for Isabelle to see if he could in fact get her to her aunt today. The idea was easier said than done, as throughout the walk his wolverine kept trying to turn and head back home. His beast didn’t want Isabelle going anywhere, and he had to keep reminding himself and his animal that she wasn’t theirs. No, she had people waiting on her. Besides, what had she called her ex? A Monster. What would she think of Chance if she knew what he really was? He had no doubt she’d see him in the same light as her fuckface ex. Probably worse. He was, after all, a true beast.
That thought propelled him forward. He needed her gone, and gone today, before he got any more interested in her than he and his wolverine already were.
***
Isabelle woke slowly, instantly feeling guilty. She hadn’t slept this long in…she couldn’t even remember when. Something delicious smelling wafted to her from the open door, but first she hobbled to the bathroom, stifling a groan at her stiff muscles and aching feet. She used the bathroom and washed up quickly, straightening her bed-rumpled hair with the brush she had used the night before.
Hair brushed, face washed, teeth finger-brushed, she hobbled back to the bedroom and was doing a piss poor job of making the bed when Chance called from the door, “Knock, knock.”
Glancing over her shoulder she found him standing in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning against the jamb like he’d been there the whole time.
“S-sorry.” She smoothed her hands over the comforter to try and get some of the wrinkles out. “I didn’t mean to sleep so long. I thought…”
“It’s alright, Belle. You needed it.” He shoved off the wall, crossing to the opposite side of the bed to help her make it. “Lunch is ready.”
She peeked up. “Whatever it is, it smells great.”
He shrugged one broad shoulder. “Just tomato soup and grilled cheese.”
“Mmmm,” she moaned, and rolled her eyes before looking at him. “My favorite.”
“Really?” He straightened from the bed. “It’s mine too.”
A shocked look passed over her delicate features, causing him to ask, “What?”
“It’s just…” She shook her head. “Zeke hated tomato soup. I made it once, and he went on this tirade that no ‘real man’ liked tomato soup and how I was a dumb shit for not knowing. He said I should,” her words faded, and she shook her head again. “Never mind.”
Chance’s eyes narrowed on her. “He said you should what?”
He didn’t think Isabelle was going to answer, but finally she swallowed and looked right at him. “He said I should work harder at being a better woman, because any female worth a flying fuck knew what men liked.”
Chance’s hands balled into fists at his side. He had about a thousand responses to ol’ fuckface’s declaration, and some pretty physical ones at the insinuation that Isabelle wasn’t a fit woman. He opted for “Fuck that prick!”, which earned him a beaming smile from Isabelle, so he carried on as he bent and yanked at the covers on one end of the bed. “I like tomato soup just fine and last time I checked I was all man.”
“Yes, yes you are.”
His head snapped up in time to watch Isabelle slap both hands over her mouth as her cheeks flamed. Apparently, she hadn’t meant to say the words out loud. His laughter boomed through the room, and he laughed even harder when Isabelle folded her hands in front of her mouth, shaking her head rapidly as she refused to meet his gaze. Under her breath he heard her self-admonish, “Stop. Talking. Now!”
Circling the bed, he scooped her up, ignoring how she ducked her head to avoid his gaze. “C’mon, woman. Soup’s getting cold.”
All through lunch, Chance debated whether or not to tell Isabelle about the road being plowed. But once he’d settled her on the couch so he could clean the kitchen, he decided it was for the best. They were forming a routine now, and it was one he didn’t need to be getting used to.
“Road to your aunt’s is plowed. If you want, I can take you there after you get dressed.”
He turned to find Isabelle staring at him, her mouth open like she was going to say something, but after a moment she closed it and remained silent.
“Belle, did you hear me?”
“Y-yeah,” she stammered, turning to look at the fire. “That’d be fine.”
Fine? Yesterday, getting to her aunt’s had been all consuming. Today, it was just…fine? His heart constricted as he studied the back of her head, wondering if she was getting used to him too. Granted, it’d only been a day and a half, but it felt like he’d known her longer. She felt like an old friend, and he was already sad at the prospect of coming back to his empty cabin.
Turning, Isabelle gave him a more confident look. “Guess I better change then.”
She shoved up from the couch and hobbled toward the bedroom in a rush. He crossed to help, because he could scent her pain, but when he was halfway to her she held up a hand, snapping, “Got it! Gotta learn how to get by on my own. You aren’t gonna be around after today, Chance. Best I see to myself.”
He watched her disappear into the bedroom, inexplicably angry at her words. She was right, but something about her declaration pissed him off. He wanted to storm into the room and argue with her, but he knew that whatever he said would sound crazy and out of place. It would be crazy and out of place. He’d only met her yesterday, and everything she’d just said was the absolute truth. Fuck! He wanted to punch something so damn bad. Instead, he hollered, “Going to cut more wood. Back soon.”