A Slice of Honeybear Pie (BWWM Paranormal BBW Bear Shifter Romance) (Bearfield Book 1) by Jacqueline Sweet, Eva Wilder Page A
Authors: Jacqueline Sweet, Eva Wilder
Tags: paranormal romance
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wrap, in Matt's freezer to chill. She balanced it on top of a stack of frozen pizzas and microwave burritos. When she moved in, all of this would be gone. No more frozen junk food, just honest cooking.
Were they mates? Were they fated? Or was this just an intense attraction that would fade in six months? She didn't know. Maybe it didn't matter? It felt amazing and Harker was gone, why not try something new? Her old patterns hadn't done her any good, had they?
On the phone, Matt argued with his brother Marcus about getting the windows replaced. Then made another call, to someone else, about dealing with the bodies.
Mina found the apples and sliced a disc out of one to taste it. Matt was right. They were perfect. Some artisanal blend. The hills of Northern California were lousy with them. Varietals you've never heard of, planted by people who didn't know they were supposed to graft apples, nit plant them, and ended up lucky anyway. She sliced ten apples into paper-thin discs, then tossed them in a large wooden bowl with flour and cinnamon and cloves and a hint of nutmeg. Then she found his honey in a high cupboard over the sink. It was in a giant earthenware jug that would have made Pooh Bear whine with jealousy. It must have weighed fifty pounds. There was no way she could move the jar. Heck, she could hardly reach it. The kitchen had been designed for a giant like Matt, not a woman like her. She'd need a step stool or a carpenter to make the kitchen usable. Thankfully the honey jar had a spigot, recessed but functional in the bottom edge of the jar. She held up a tablespoon and filled it with the glowing amber goodness.
Honey was tricky to cook with. You needed to be very careful when you sourced it. Under the sweetness, a refined palate could taste the notes of whatever the bees got into. Too often honey carried notes of heavy metals, of pesticides, of the weirdly beefy taste of fertilizer. Bees didn't care, but a person eating anything cooked with the honey could find themselves faced with a peculiarly sour aftertaste. Matt's honey was sweet and light, almost like corn syrup, with a complex earthiness like maple syrup baked in the sun. It was divine. Mina lost track of where she was for a moment, eyes closed, her tongue working its way up and down the spoon, finding every last drop of the sweetness.
When she opened her eyes, Matt was staring at her, an expression somewhere between ravenously horny and hypnotized by her hotness burning in his eyes. "Don't do that again," he warned.
"Do what?"
"Eat my honey."
"Is this a bear thing? Do your paws get stuck in the jar sometimes?"
"When you lick that spoon you are the sexiest thing I've ever seen and if you do it again I will take you right here on the floor but the floor is covered in blood and I don't want our first time to be like that. So please, no more spoon licking until I have all of this sorted."
Mina held up the spoon to her mouth and slowly stretched out her tongue. A deep growl rumbled out of Matt's throat and his eyes flashed golden for a moment. Maybe this wasn't the best time to tease him?
She filled a liquid cup measure with the honey and went back to her pie, tossing the apples in butter and honey until they were thoroughly and inextricably bound together. As Mina rolled out the chilled pie crust, men arrived. Wearing red jumpsuits and plastic face masks like a surgeon might wear, they went to work cleaning up the blood and bodies.
"Most of them escaped," Matt said to a stooped older man, half his size, with a heavy drooping white mustache.
"You got their leader. They'll never come back here again." He slapped Matt on the elbow, mostly because he couldn't reach his back. "You did good. Your dad would be proud."
"Thanks, Pop-pop."
The old man smiled at Mina from under his mustache. It was the same winning grin Matt employed so well. "Take care of him, will you? He's a good man but he needs a strong woman."
Mina nodded at the man, "Yes,
Were they mates? Were they fated? Or was this just an intense attraction that would fade in six months? She didn't know. Maybe it didn't matter? It felt amazing and Harker was gone, why not try something new? Her old patterns hadn't done her any good, had they?
On the phone, Matt argued with his brother Marcus about getting the windows replaced. Then made another call, to someone else, about dealing with the bodies.
Mina found the apples and sliced a disc out of one to taste it. Matt was right. They were perfect. Some artisanal blend. The hills of Northern California were lousy with them. Varietals you've never heard of, planted by people who didn't know they were supposed to graft apples, nit plant them, and ended up lucky anyway. She sliced ten apples into paper-thin discs, then tossed them in a large wooden bowl with flour and cinnamon and cloves and a hint of nutmeg. Then she found his honey in a high cupboard over the sink. It was in a giant earthenware jug that would have made Pooh Bear whine with jealousy. It must have weighed fifty pounds. There was no way she could move the jar. Heck, she could hardly reach it. The kitchen had been designed for a giant like Matt, not a woman like her. She'd need a step stool or a carpenter to make the kitchen usable. Thankfully the honey jar had a spigot, recessed but functional in the bottom edge of the jar. She held up a tablespoon and filled it with the glowing amber goodness.
Honey was tricky to cook with. You needed to be very careful when you sourced it. Under the sweetness, a refined palate could taste the notes of whatever the bees got into. Too often honey carried notes of heavy metals, of pesticides, of the weirdly beefy taste of fertilizer. Bees didn't care, but a person eating anything cooked with the honey could find themselves faced with a peculiarly sour aftertaste. Matt's honey was sweet and light, almost like corn syrup, with a complex earthiness like maple syrup baked in the sun. It was divine. Mina lost track of where she was for a moment, eyes closed, her tongue working its way up and down the spoon, finding every last drop of the sweetness.
When she opened her eyes, Matt was staring at her, an expression somewhere between ravenously horny and hypnotized by her hotness burning in his eyes. "Don't do that again," he warned.
"Do what?"
"Eat my honey."
"Is this a bear thing? Do your paws get stuck in the jar sometimes?"
"When you lick that spoon you are the sexiest thing I've ever seen and if you do it again I will take you right here on the floor but the floor is covered in blood and I don't want our first time to be like that. So please, no more spoon licking until I have all of this sorted."
Mina held up the spoon to her mouth and slowly stretched out her tongue. A deep growl rumbled out of Matt's throat and his eyes flashed golden for a moment. Maybe this wasn't the best time to tease him?
She filled a liquid cup measure with the honey and went back to her pie, tossing the apples in butter and honey until they were thoroughly and inextricably bound together. As Mina rolled out the chilled pie crust, men arrived. Wearing red jumpsuits and plastic face masks like a surgeon might wear, they went to work cleaning up the blood and bodies.
"Most of them escaped," Matt said to a stooped older man, half his size, with a heavy drooping white mustache.
"You got their leader. They'll never come back here again." He slapped Matt on the elbow, mostly because he couldn't reach his back. "You did good. Your dad would be proud."
"Thanks, Pop-pop."
The old man smiled at Mina from under his mustache. It was the same winning grin Matt employed so well. "Take care of him, will you? He's a good man but he needs a strong woman."
Mina nodded at the man, "Yes,
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