Mason stared at the message on his phone. Slammed at work. Meet me at the cabin?

He’d read it probably a hundred times, to the point Bones had quilled up the last couple of times in irritation. Emma had been gone when he woke up that morning. He hadn’t even stirred as far as he could tell. The last thing he remembered before his own alarm went off was pulling the pillows out from between them after Emma had fallen asleep. And he had gotten control over his manly intentions. He was honestly impressed with himself that he had been that ready to go after their times in the woods, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to complain.

But, Mason was a gentleman. Even if being around Emma made him want to rip her clothes off and take her over and over and over again. He had tried, for a second, to remember the last woman he had been with. He gave up quickly. Because it didn’t matter. Emma was everything he could have possibly imagined, and he knew that no one could ever live up to what they had shared.

Mason was sitting at his desk at Svelte. The kids had gone home, and he had just finished organizing tomorrow’s lesson plan. His second week at the school had gone better than the first, and he thought he might be starting to get the hang of trying to instill an education into a bunch of bullheaded paranormal kids. If a person could ever get the hang of that.

He had collaborated with one of the other teachers to form an outdoor adventure for the kids where they could test their paranormal abilities while learning about nature. Mason was pretty impressed with himself for coming up with it. Of course, it could all go terribly wrong, but the community had defenses in place for things like that. At least that was what Sarah Timkens had insisted.

They had decided they only needed a couple extra patrols in the woods since they weren’t going very far from the school, and they hadn’t even had to ask for any volunteers. He wondered if Emma would be working. He hoped so.

Mason took one last look at the message on his phone and then dropped it into his satchel. He really needed to get a new bag. He was starting to get looks when he had it over his shoulder. But he had been busy. It was on his list of things to do.

Now, he had places to be. Like the grocery store and the florist. He didn’t know what Emma had planned for the night, other than discussing Bones. He didn’t’ really care what they did, as long as they were together. And while they were together, he was going to give her flowers and cook her dinner.

Since they had skipped over the first date phase of their relationship—if they could even call it that—Mason planned to make up for it. It would have been easier if he had any idea what kind of food and flowers she liked.

So, at the grocery store, he picked up a rainbow bundle of daisies—roses were too…intentioned—and everything he needed to make macaroni and cheese and hamburgers. Easy enough. And the woman at the checkout only looked at him a little strangely.

While she rang things up, Mason focused Bones on her. They had been practicing all day on trying to distinguish mundanes and shifters. Which was really a moot point at a paranormal school, but he was getting good at recognizing shifters.

The checker was mundane. He was pretty sure. Mason thanked her as he picked up his groceries and returned to his car. He pulled up the directions Emma had texted him, even though he had them memorized by this point, and put the car in gear.

The drive to the cabin took about fifteen minutes, during which Mason had plenty of time to get himself completely worked up and nervous about seeing her again. Yesterday still didn’t feel real, and he was only partially convinced that he was going to show up to have the door slammed in his face. The thought was completely irrational, but damn. It had been so long since he had had a woman even pay attention to him—well, if that didn’t make him sound desperate.

As he rolled into the driveway he spotted Emma sitting on the steps to the cabin. Mercifully, clothed. The cabin was small and tucked within a copse of trees. The front porch stretched the length of the front, but stopped without a railing. There were two small windows and the roof looked sturdy.

Mason had barely pulled to a stop and Emma was next to the car. “You came.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Maybe he should have messaged her back…

She answered him with a kiss.

Mason dropped the grocery bag to the ground and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into him. They kissed until they had to breathe, their lungs giving out under the pressure of their lips together. There was a desperation in that kiss that set Mason back, and sent heat sprawling across his midriff.

“Hello to you, too,” he said, kissing her on the forehead once before reaching back into his car to pick up the flowers.

Emma’s eyes widened and then filled with tears.

He panicked. “What did I do? Are the flowers to much? I can take them back. Burn them. Emma, what is wrong?”

She snatched them out of his hands and buried her face in them.

Mason gaped at her, completely at a loss for what he should do.

Especially when she pulled away the flowers and laughed. It was a choked sort of sound, and a little pathetic. But it was still a laugh.

What had he done wrong? They were just flowers.

She hit him on the chest with one fist. “Stupid porcupine.”

Bones bristled.

“I think you meant me, but you might want to clarify for Bones before he quills us both.”

Emma spun around with a laugh, burying her face back in the flowers and walking back to the cabin.

Mason just stood there for a second, trying to figure out what the hell that was all about. Then he reached down and picked up the bag of groceries to follow her.

She left the door open, and he found her digging through cabinets looking for something to put the flowers in. Mason set the groceries on the counter took a seat at one of the tall stools. “So, is everything okay?”

She plopped a mason jar—only a little ironic—on the counter and started digging through a drawer, emerging with a pair of archaic looking shears that were more than a little intimidating. Mason thought maybe he should have waited to ask her that. Emma cut the stems of the daisies in one shot, the shears making quick business of it, and dropped them into the jar.

“Everything is fine.”

“I don’t even slightly believe you.”

Emma groaned. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“You say that a lot. Did you ever think that maybe it would help to talk about things? I’m no therapist, but I feel like the amount of shit you have gone through in the last week might be a little overwhelming.”

“You don’t know.”

“Obviously.”

Emma scooted the jar towards her on the counter and buried her face in the flowers again. Mason wasn’t sure if it was because she was that thrilled to have them, or if she was trying to hide his face from her. He guessed it was probably the second option.

“Look, Emma. I can’t begin to understand everything that is going on here. Hell, maybe I don’t want to understand. But—” he reached forward and pulled the flowers away from her. “I do want to understand you. And you can’t greet me like you did out there and then tell me that nothing is wrong. I’m not a complete idiot.”

Emma looked up at him with those intense, infinite brown eyes, and a smile played at her lips. “Fine. Quill boy.”

Mason straightened and positioned the jar back in the center of the counter. Emma didn’t pull it back towards her. “Okay. Now that we have that taken care of, is there a barbeque out here? I brought stuff to make dinner.”

Emma chuckled and played with the end of her pony tail, watching as Mason started opening cabinets. “Where on earth did you come from, Mason Covey?”

“Foggy Bottom.”

Emma snorted and slapped her hands on the counter. “What?”

“Foggy Bottom.”

“That is not a real place.”

“Google it.”

She eyed him sideways. “Foggy. Bottom.”

“I didn’t name the place. Pan for boiling water?”

“Two cabinets to your left. There is… one.”

“Perfect. And what did you say about the barbeque?”

“I didn’t. But we don’t have one.”

“Shit.” Mason found the pan he was looking for and plopped it on the stove, which had to be a hundred years old. Or, probably from the sixties, which was about the same thing in appliance years. “I should have called. I thought about it, but I wanted to surprise you. I was going to make burgers.”

Emma shrugged. “Never needed one out here before. If anything, we light a campfire. But, no one has ever lived out here before either.”

Mason looked up. “But you live out here.”

Emma looked down at an invisible watch on her wrist. “For about… four days. Give or take.”

Four days? There really was a lot Mason didn’t know. Emma didn’t elaborate, and Mason decided he wasn’t going to pry. So, he started digging through the cabinet where he had found the pot. He really hadn’t been paying attention as he dug through the cabinets before. But now, he realized that they were particularly sparse. Everything was a mishmash, old, dented and generally looking like things that had been discarded somewhere and compiled to make the place a little bit livable. If he looked around the room, the observation remained accurate.

Mason found a frying pan that had a flat edge where it had been dropped. He pulled it out and set it on the other side of the stove.

“So, what are you going to make, master chef?”

“Glorified Hamburger Helper.” He started digging through the grocery bags. “With veggie sandwiches, if we want. Lettuce, tomato, onion and pickles on a hamburger bun.” He pulled a box of macaroni out. “Or, we could pile the macaroni and hamburger on the bun. It would be a little like a sloppy joe… but not.”

“How about not.” Emma laughed and started pulling the vegetables out of the bag. “I’ll turn this stuff into a salad. How’s that? I think there’s some ranch in the fridge.”

Mason nodded. “Sounds perfect.”

They moved easily around the kitchen together, not really avoiding conversation, but not talking freely. Mason felt like there was a pocket of tension floating above them with whatever was going unsaid. Not something between them, like times before, but around Emma. He could tell she was trying to maintain a façade of peace and calm, but she was only half successful. Mason wanted to ask her about it, but he wasn’t sure where to start, and he wasn’t sure she was ready. And the times he had pried before hadn’t been particularly successful. Maybe, if he waited long enough, she would just start talking.

Still, the mystery of this cabin where she had lived for less than a week had him curious. “So, what is this place, exactly?” He studied the small shelf of spices, trying to decide what to put on the hamburger.

“My brothers and I fixed it up years ago. We used to come here to get away and pretend we were adventurers on a great quset or something. We found it one summer when we were running the woods as our bears. Once we started… adulting, we stopped coming.” Emma shrugged and started chopping lettuce.

“What was it like, growing up with brothers?”

Emma snorted. “A pain in the butt. They’re twins, so there was a lot of that twin juju going on and they would prank me and pick on me and gang up on me. I blame them for my fireball tendencies. They made me strong, though. I had to be, to put up with their shit.” She dumped the lettuce into a bowl. “But, they also protected me. Because I am their baby sister.”

“I always wished I had a sibling or two. Until I met a friend who had a sister and a brother who he fought with all the time. I’m pretty sure they hated each other. I decided I like being an only child.”

“So, you and your parents really didn’t associate with any other shifters in DC, huh?”

“Nope.”

“That is so crazy. But I guess I grew up here, surrounded by them. Sure, Brett and Joe are my brothers, but in a way, so is Jordan. And all the other bears in the clan. We are a family, if a somewhat dysfunctional one.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just call Jordan a brother, because that is…creepy.”

Emma threw an onion skin at Mason. “I am not going to even try to explain it.”

“I appreciate that.”

Emma frowned. “Mason, I really do need you to understand about Jordan. If you and I are going to be a… thing.”

A thing. Mason turned around to stir the hamburger and dump the macaroni into the boiling water. “I understand.”

“You don’t.”

“You grew up together, dated, pretended to date, and were supposed to be married. What else is there?”

“The fact that he is my best friend. And the fact that until a week ago, no one around here had a clue that me and him weren’t together.” She sighed, dumping the onion into the bowl on top of the lettuce. “Things are complicated at best, and people are probably going to talk, if we start going out in public together.”

Mason wasn’t sure he wanted to be having this conversation. They really were doing things backwards. “I don’t care what people say, Emma. One of the benefits of growing up a picked-on loner.”

“I am only saying that things might get difficult. I just—” Emma set the knife down and looked up at Mason. “I just want you to know what you’re getting into.”

“I feel like this is third or fourth date material.”

“I think we skipped over a few dates and dove right into complicated.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

Emma shot up an eyebrow. “Mason, do you realize who you are talking to?”

“I am talking to a strong, beautiful, empowered woman.”

She shook her head, but didn’t say anything. So, Mason stepped around the counter and sidled up beside her. She pointedly focused her attention on the tomato she’d been slicing. Mason slid an arm around her waist, letting his fingers lift the edge of her shirt.

“Strong.” He pressed a kiss into her neck and his hand slid around the bare skin of her stomach. He lifted his free hand to her chin and turned it to him.

“And beautiful.” Then he kissed her, his hand pulling her face into his, their lips colliding in earnest. For a moment, he though she was going to resist, then she melted into him, her body turning to his, the tomato forgotten. Then her arms were around his neck, fingers running through is hair and holding his mouth to hers.

He had only meant to kiss her. Now, he spun her around so she was between him and the counter and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around him, holding him captive as his hands pushed her shirt up until her breasts were uncovered. He could see her nipples pressing against the thin fabric of her neutral bra. She might as well not have been wearing one. He didn’t bother unfastening it from the back. He pulled down the fabric until one of her breasts was out in the open. Teasing the free nipple with his tongue, he cupped her other breast in his hand, squeezing and kneading in rhythm to her rushed breathing.

Her hands brushed against his stomach, and a shudder of pleasure rippled through him. Then her fingers were working the button on his pants.

Water hissed from the stove, and a roll of burning steam filled the kitchen as the pot of pasta boiled over. He had half a mind to let it burn, but she pulled back, nuzzling her face into his neck as she erupted in laughter, wrapping her arms back around him. He wasn’t ready to give up. Her laughter only turned him on further, and the need in his groin had swollen to levels not worth turning back.

With her face buried against him, he couldn’t reach her breasts any more with his mouth, so he let both hands claim them, finding her ear with his teeth. Her laughter turned to a pleasured squeak.

“Mason,” she giggled, her fingers clenching into his shirt. The room smelled like smoke and burning pasta. “Mason, shouldn’t you get that?”

“It’s already ruined,” he murmured through nips at her ear.

“Mason, I’m hungry.” She tried to push him back, but he held her tighter.

“So am I.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You taste just fine.”

She arched her back, and he could tell she was close to giving in, even though her entire body still trembled with laughter. She pushed back against him once more, laying all the way back on the counter, her mouth, ears, breasts all out of reach. She was wearing pants, a thin barrier to the only part of her body he could still reach.

He leaned over her, tracing his tongue down her stomach until his chin hit the edge of her jeans. Then he gripped the fabric above the button in his teeth and pulled. It came undone in a breath, and he felt her body relax.

Her laughter gave way to a low moan as he pulled her pants down over her hips. “I swear if you burn my house do—"

He pressed his thumb against her underwear, teasing her sweet spot through the lace. Her hips bucked towards him, reacting to the pressure in the way only a woman could. He looped his finger through the inside of her panties and pulled them to the side. Lowering his face to her, he let his breath roll across her moist flesh. He knew he had won as her body curved up to meet him.

And then she growled. A low, dangerous sound that brought Bones out from the back of his cognition. Emma flattened out on the counter, craning her neck back towards the stove. “Shit, Mason. Dinner is on fire!”

Mason stumbled back as Emma jumped off the counter, half tripping towards the stove as she pulled up her pants. He moved easily past her, picking up the pan of hamburger which had erupted in a small ball of fire. The flames licked against his knuckles as he pushed through the kitchen to the door. He didn’t know what to do with the thing other than get the pan out of the house before he did catch it on fire.

“Grab the pasta.”

But Emma had already picked up the pan and was right behind him, black smoke curling up into her face.

“Fire pit?”

“To the right.”

Mason turned and immediately found it. He dumped the burning burger into the dead coals, and flakes of ash puffed into the air like snow. Emma set the pan of pasta on one of the rocks. It hadn’t caught on fire, but the water had burned out and it was smoking. It wouldn’t have taken much longer.

Crossing her arms over her bare chest, Emma set a glare on Mason. “I told you not to catch the house on fire.”

“I didn’t catch the house on fire. It was only dinner.” He could still see Mal in her eyes, and he tried an innocent smile, stepping up to her. “I think it was worth it.”

Emma planted a hand square in the center of Mason’s chest. “I wouldn’t try it.”

Or, don’t piss off the bear.

Mason readjusted himself with a sigh as they watched the fire burn off the grease in the pan. “So, um. Dinner?”

Emma raised an eyebrow at him. “I guess we will go hunting.”

“Go what?”

“You know, when a bear is hungry, and they track down a deer or a squirrel and eat it. Hunting.”

“As your bear.”

“Yes, Mason.”

He crinkled up his nose, trying to think of what Bones ate when they went out. Dirt. Roots. Rocks. Also known as whatever ended up in his mouth while he was digging up bones for his collection.

Maybe he shouldn’t have let dinner burn.