But it’s only because he doesn’t know me, I reason.
My focus shifts from the intense amount of male attention I’m getting, to my game plan to be the best neighbor that dude ever had. Before long, he’ll be on my doorstep asking for a cup of sugar just to bask in my awesomeness. I’ll do what I’ve taught myself to do years ago.
Kill him with kindness.
Chapter6
Bears Hate Fun
TED
Ididn't order anything, but I expect a package is what will be on my front step when I’m summoned by the doorbell Sunday morning.
Maybe one of my asshat brothers sent something to my house again, planning to pick it up later, like I’m some kind of personal postal depot for them.
But I find something far worse. A curvy, blonde woman wearing black yoga pants adorned with rhinestones, and a pink shirt that dips down on one side, revealing the tan, moisturized skin of her shoulder.
For the second time, the smell of her turns to taste, melting along my tongue like sugar. I instantly hold my breath, trying to keep the deliciousness at bay.
She has to tilt her neck back to look up at me. I’ve got over half a foot on her. Honey brown eyes meet mine from under long, curled lashes as her bright pink lips curve in a smile. She smells like honey. Honey and something lightly floral, with just a hint of strawberries.
There is an inherently seductive quality to her face, though I’m not observant enough to know if it’s due to her high cheekbones, the slant of her eyes, or because of her full lips. But I do recognize she capitalizes on all three traits with makeup, turning up the volume on her sexy.
For a moment, her pupils dilate as if she is fully taking me in. For a werebear, I’m big. To a human I seem like a giant. It’s not long before she covers up her initial reaction.
“Hi, I’m your new neighbor, Goldie. I thought I’d come over and officially introduce myself,” she chirps.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
My hand clenches on the door, as I turn to stone.
“What happened to Astrid?” I ask in a flat tone. Dammit. The question forces me to inhale more of this girl’s scent. I suppress a groan at how smooth it tastes.
My crankiness jacks up another notch.
Lines crinkle at the corners of her eyes as her lips twist in displeasure before she resumes her glowing smile. “Astrid was my aunt. She passed away.” The mirth drains from her eyes and is replaced with a sadness. “She left me the house in her will.”
The right thing to say is ‘sorry for your loss,’ but a whirlwind of questions flood my brain with sizzling heat.
Is she really going to try to be Ms. Cheerful neighbor, coming over and annoying me anytime she feels like it? She was already here with a passel of girls before. Is she going to keep doing that? Inviting people out here? Am I going to lose the privacy to shift or walk around naked on my property as I please? Dear faelords, what’s going to happen when my brothers catch sight of this pink frothy cream puff on my porch? My heart pounds out of my chest as panic eats away at every other thought.
“How long are you going to stay?” is what finally ends up coming out of my mouth in a low rumble. My chest feels like someone is steamrolling over it.
A line forms between her furrowed brows. She doesn’t like my question.
“A long time?” She says with a shrug, and I can’t tell if it’s a statement or a question. But if she is looking for my approval of her staying, she won’t get it.
Then my eyes drop to what she’s holding. She clutches a glass dish. On it is a pink frosted cake in the shape of a heart, decorated with strawberries.
Her expression brightens as she lifts it up. “It’s a cake. Strawberries and cream. I mean usually it's customary for the neighbors to greet the newcomer with baked goods,” she says, her gaze flicking away as obvious resentment seeps through. “But I figure you must be busy doing…” Her voice falters as she tries to look past me into my house, but I’m blocking the way.“…whatever it is that you do?”
It’s a prompt, and she expects me to answer.
I can’t decide what smells better. This brash blonde girl, or the cake. My mouth waters, but that’s the only part of me that wants any part of this. The fact that she is beautiful and ballsy doesn’t affect me at all.
“Astrid and I didn’t really talk,” I say, hoping she’ll get the message. Hot buzzing still runs rampant through my head and spreads through my body.
And what is the scent embedded in her skin? Underneath the sugar and honey. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever encountered.
