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  The Bear's Christmas Bride

  By Zoe Chant

  Special Sneak Preview

  Matt was easy to talk to. Even though they were practically strangers, Ashley found herself telling him everything, without a moment of awkward silence. She knew that she was being a bad host and should really go circulate and talk to guests other than Matt, but somehow she couldn’t tear herself away from his side. Even after Francine came by and rescued them from Emma, they stayed in the same chair, the Christmas tree lights twinkling behind Matt’s head like the halo on an angel.

  Eventually Ashley’s legs grew tired of perching on the chair’s arm, and she slowly slid down to be next to Matt. As big as he was, there was plenty of room on the plush loveseat for both of them. Matt hesitated a moment, then lifted his arm onto her shoulders. Ashley smiled up at him to let him know that, in her opinion, it was a fine place for his arm to be, and she felt the tension in his muscles slip away.

  And itwas a very fine place to be. She could feel Matt against her side and leg, and he was warm and solid, his muscles evident even beneath the cushioning of his winter clothes. With his arm around her, she felt surrounded but not stifled. Instead she had to stop herself from snuggling even closer, from tucking her head into the welcoming nook between his shoulder and neck, or even from climbing into his lap and kissing him senseless.

  Luckily, before she could embarrass herself – or maybe just embarrass any kids in the room – dinner was announced, and Ashley, Matt, and everyone else proceeded into the dining room. The Carson family only used the room on formal occasions like this one, but even with the extra panel added to the middle of the tableandall the kids downgraded to eating in the kitchen – where the inevitable spills were easier to clean up – there weren’t going to be enough seats for everyone.

  However, it turned out that wouldn’t be a problem for Matt and Ashley. Ashley’s mom welcomed Matt with open arms and an exclamation of delight, and sat him in a place of honor in the direct center of the table. Ashley was seated across from him, which made it hard to continue their intimate conversation, but she had to admit that the view more than made up for it.

  Matt hadn’t known about the Carsons’ Ugly Sweater tradition, so alone of all the guests he was dressed in a respectable button-down shirt and dark blazer. The white fabric of the shirt made his skin gleam like gold, somehow still tan even in late December. Ashley guessed that was what working outside did for you.

  All dressed up, he was even hotter than he’d been at the store, and Ashley would have bet a significant amount of money that was impossible. But the formal clothes highlighted the primal quality of him, the way his firm muscles shifted visibly with every move he made. He had a vital, almost animal-like side to him, and it attracted her like a bonfire on a winter’s night, that promise of heat and light and movement.

  When all the seats at the table were filled, Ashley’s father brought out the centerpiece: an entire roast turkey, its skin crisp and brown. Its rich scent filled the room to the sound ofoooohs andahhhhs and even scattered applause.

  “Thank you, thank you,” her dad said, pretending to bow as he smiled around the room at his gathered community. “Before we all dig in, I’d like to say a few words.”

  “Hurry up!” shouted Francine, throwing a balled-up napkin at him from her end of the table.

  Ashley caught Matt’s eye as they both laughed. She liked that he seemed to be comfortable with her family. He fit in like he was one of them.

  “All right, all right!” Her dad held up his hands to quiet the crowd. “I’ll be brief. I just wanted to thank you all for coming. Sometimes I let myself be caught up by work and politics and the news, and forget to appreciate what’s important. I bet a few of you have the same problem. But what better time to remember the people in our lives, and to be thankful for the gifts of friendship and family, than at Christmas?”

  Everyone around the table clapped, and Ashley couldn’t help peeking at Matt again. He was too focused on her father to notice her glance, but she saw how hard he applauded, as though the words she’d heard every year for as long as she could remember had truly touched him.

  “And that’s all you have to hear from me! But before I carve up this delicious-looking bird, why don’t we bow out heads and say Grace?”

  Ashley automatically reached out for the people seated on either side of her; the Carson family had always held hands during Grace. It took Matt a moment to notice what was happening, but then he quickly reached out to take hands with Great Aunt Meredith on his left and the man who owned Oakville’s bakery on his right.

  He bowed his head, and Ashley knew that she should too, but she waited just a little longer, to see how Matt’s large hands wrapped around those of his neighbors’, and the slight hint of vulnerable skin on the underside of his wrist that was just visible beneath his blazer’s cuff, and the one curl of cinnamon-brown hair that traced the outer edge of his ear.

  Then she too bowed her head and closed her eyes, and let the familiar words of the prayer sweep her away. Although her father recited the first line alone, soon everyone was speaking together. But closer than the voices of family and friends and nearly forgotten old neighbors was Matt’s voice, his baritone tracing each word like a secret message sent straight to Ashley’s heart.

  Amen rang out, and there was a brief silence before everyone began talking again: laughing, fighting over where to sit, and demanding food. Ashley shook her head to clear her thoughts and made herself turn to her brother-in-law Bob, who was seated beside her, and asked him to pass the mashed potatoes.

  The rest of the party passed splendidly, full of carols and gifts and far too much food. Ashley had finally managed to make herself talk to someone other than Matt, but she found herself drifting back to his side again and again. She would have worried that she was monopolizing his time except for the fact that he seemed just as fascinated by her as she was by him. He only had to look at her with those warm tawny eyes, and she knew that she was right where he wanted her to be.

  Finally the guests began to go home, trickling out individually or in small groups. Ashley couldn’t think of a single excuse to invite Matt to stay longer, no matter how much she secretly wished he would, so she offered to escort him to the door.

  “I’d like that,” he said sincerely, as though she had promised something much grander.

  She stood aside while he fetched his coat and scarf, then watched as he bundled up against the cold outside. “I’m really glad you came,” she said, wishing she could think of something more to say. That cliche was the same thing she had said to every departing guest; the words weren’t enough to capture the way Matt had truly made her feel.

  “Me too.”

  They paused, staring at one another, both awkward and unsure of what to do next. Then Matt looked over Ashley’s head, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Hey,” he said, pointing up. “Mistletoe.”

  Ashley looked up, and found herself directly beneath the little bundle of glossy leaves and white berries that she had completely forgotten about. She took a deep breath to summon her courage, and said, “Then I guess you better kiss me.”

  She had expected him to make a joke of it, but his eyes darkened, and without saying a word, he stepped closer to her, lifting his hands to place them on her shoulders. His long fingers were warm and strong even through her fuzzy sweater, and he drew her closer to him, until her breasts brushed his chest. Ashley heard the bell on her sweater jingle, but there was no time to be
self-conscious because then all she was aware of was Matt lowering his head, his lips parting as they approached her own.

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