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“The supply list,” I blurted.

His gaze lingered on my face long enough to make me suspect he didn’t believe a word of it. Warmth crept into my cheeks, and heat pooled between my thighs.

Barrett’s nostrils flared.

Oh, God.

Could bears smell desire? That seemed deeply unfair.

“Bakery,” I said briskly, gesturing vaguely toward the bakery. “I’m hungry.”

That, at least, was true.

He followed without comment.

The woman behind the bakery counter knew Barrett’s order.

“Usual?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. And⁠—”

“Turkey, no cheese.” She looked at me as she reached for another bag. “Extra apple.”

I turned slowly toward Barrett. “You’ve been ordering for me?”

He met my eyes, then glanced briefly at my mouth. “You need to eat.”

The care in those four simple words undid me, that he’d thought about me enough to make sure I was eating properly.

“Thank you.” I placed my hand on his forearm. His fur was warm beneath my fingers, the muscle underneath hard. I’d touched him accidentally before, in the woods. This wasn’t that. My thumb moved before I could stop it, barely brushing the inside of his wrist.

Barrett looked down at my hand, then at me. Our gazes held, and my thumb stilled against the inside of his wrist.

“Here you go!” the baker said cheerfully, setting two large bags on the counter.

Barrett blinked.

I yanked my hand away and took a shaky breath.

For a heartbeat, neither of us moved.

Then Barrett cleared his throat, picked up the bags with exaggerated care and stepped away from the counter. “Come on,” he said, his voice rougher than before. “It’ll be quieter outside.”

I nodded, grateful he hadn’t tried to explain whatever had just happened between us.

We took the food to a picnic table near the edge of the square. Barrett sat opposite me at first, which should have helped. It didn’t. The table was too small for him, and his knees touched mine beneath it whenever he shifted.

I’d never thought of myself as particularly tactile. Plants made sense under observation. You could touch a leaf, cut a cross section, put a sample beneath a microscope and learn something real.

People were considerably less cooperative. I’d never had much patience for the uncertainty of attraction. This was worse because I wanted to touch Barrett, and not academically. The thought was so unlike me that I nearly laughed.

A woman passing the table stopped to ask him about a tree near her well. Barrett listened, asked a few questions, and promised to come by later in the week. When she left, he went straight back to eating.

I stared at him while he calmly reached into the bag for more food. “When do you stop?”

His hand paused. “Stop what?”

“Working.”