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. 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. 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. 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. 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 40

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Switching off the radio in disgust, Mitch leaned back in his chair. There hadn’t been anything worth listening to that had held his interest. Mitch didn’t have a TV. The British imposed a tax on owning sets, and the less the government knew about him the happier Mitch felt. Morwenna had offered to pay for the TV license herself and he could pay her back, but he’d refused, saying he doubted he’d watch the set enough to justify its cost.

He’d spent the best part of the afternoon buried in work in an effort to try to block out memories of Ben that the lunch with John had awakened.

Thinking of the man seemed to conjure him up. There was a knock on the door, but Mitch was already on his feet. Forcing himself to pause for a couple of heartbeats, he slowly made his way to the door and was careful to plaster on an expression of surprise that didn’t indicate too much pleasure.

“Good evening,” Mitch said.

“Evening.”

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