webnovel

Summer's Lease

On his first night renting a cottage on the Cornish coast, widower John Tennant comes face to face with, of all things, a grizzly bear. Fearing for his life, John tries to convince the animal he isn't worth eating, and is relieved when the bear ambles away.<br><br>Maintenance man Mitch Benjamin is two hundred years old but doesn’t look a day over forty. As a werebear, he needs to stay under the radar. The new renter is making that difficult. Not only is John attractive, but his vulnerability triggers all of Mitch’s protective instincts. If that wasn’t trouble enough, Mitch is struggling with his inner bear’s desire to befriend John. He knows what his bear is up to, but Mitch doesn’t want another mate. His last one was murdered ninety years ago, and he’s still grieving.<br><br>John is confused by Mitch’s mixed signals. Physically, Mitch -- with his bulging muscles and hulking frame -- is a gay man’s wet dream come true. But emotionally, he keeps closing down. John discovers more comfort with the magnificent grizzly bear he occasionally meets on his evening walks along the beach.<br><br>In an effort to help, Morwenna, the owner of the cottages, uses her psychic gifts to give John a message from his dead lover, George. Far from helping, it adds another layer of strangeness to what’s already turning out to be the strangest summer John can remember.<br><br>Can a well-meaning medium and a determined grizzly bring John and Mitch together? Will Mitch come clean about his werebear nature? If he does, can John accept that a man and bear exist in the same body?

Drew Hunt · LGBT+
Not enough ratings
90 Chs

Chapter 23

“You’re all wet,” John said when Mitch came back. “Sorry, talk about stating the obvious. I get it from my mother.”

Mitch smiled, set his two bags down and opened one of them. “I was wondering if this might go with the two chairs you bought earlier.”

John looked at the crib Mitch was holding out to him. “Oh, wow.”

“It isn’t finished yet, needs a few coats of varnish and maybe some more sanding.”

He watched as John’s delicate hands, so different from his own, traced the grain, explored the curves, and stroked the rounded corners.

“I should have brought it over earlier, but in all the confusion I forgot.”

“It’s perfect. Hang on, I’ll get my wallet. Though you might need to wait until I can get to the cash point tomorrow.”

“No, no, it’s a gift, a thank you for dinner,” Mitch explained.

John looked up at him in shock. “I couldn’t accept something as lovely as this. It must have taken you hours to make.”