LOVE AT FROST BITE: BENJI

  TOBY WISE

  LOVE AT FROST BITE: BENJI

  Can a self-proclaimed grinch find love in time for Christmas?

  Benji prefers a quiet life, and he’s gotten to the age where he’s used to being alone. Despite being a reindeer, he hates ‘the Christmas spirit’ and the only thing softening his grumpy exterior is a certain otter shifter who seems determined to slip his way into Benji’s life.

  Mason is a single dad working at the food court in the mall. When he begins having lunch with Benji, his little crush doesn’t stay little for long. It’s hard to keep his feelings locked away when Benji gently takes care of him in a way that Mason’s been looking for but never thought he could have.

  Both men try to keep their feelings in check but after taking care of Mason while he’s sick, and going Christmas shopping together, they realize they don’t have to hold themselves back.

  Love at First Bite: Benji is a shifter Christmas romance story in a world of magic featuring daddy kink, Christmas shenanigans, the grumpy one being soft for the sunshine one, mpreg, and of course, a happily ever after. This book is part of a highly anticipated multi-author series, Mated to His Reindeer!

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  More From Toby Wise

  About the Author

  Love at Frost Bite: Benji© 2022 by Toby Wise

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations for book reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Book cover by Tara

  Beta Services by Kirk from LesCourt

  Proofreading by Alee

  Formatting by Pumpkin Author Services

  CHAPTER ONE

  BENJI

  I step into the mall, my shoulder’s pulling up to my ears as the sound of Christmas music fills the air. Jesus Christ. Seriously? Thanksgiving is tomorrow. Why the fuck is Christmas music already playing?

  I swear, every year we get closer and closer to starting Christmas shenanigans before Halloween. The goths will have something to say about this, mark my words!

  I shake my head as I make my way towards Winer and Diner, one of the only places that carries the type of wine my mother loved. This will be the first year we’re celebrating Thanksgiving without her. I wanted to get the wine for my family to share in her honor. Yet another reason not to be merry about this time of the year.

  Some people will find it ironic; a reindeer shifter who hates Christmas? But to those people I unapologetically hold up a middle finger. Being a reindeer shifter doesn’t make one holly and jolly like some people like to think. I’m allowed to be a grumpy old man who’d rather stay at home away from the snow than trapeze through department stores looking for the perfect present. It’s not like I have a mate and kids to spoil anyway.

  “Howdy, Benji,” the guy behind the counter says with a friendly smile. I nod at him before heading towards the back where I know the wine I’m looking for is located. It’s not hard to find and I grab three bottles so there’s enough to share between the four of us.

  “Need anything else?”

  “Nope,” I tell Brady, nodding as I pick up my bags and head back out.

  I run my fingers through my silvered hair, heading straight back out the way I came. I’m determined to get back home as quickly as possible but slow my steps when a familiar head of hair starts walking towards me.

  For a split second, I think about ducking my head down, pretending I haven’t seen him, and booking it out of the mall. He couldn’t fault me for simply not seeing him.

  But then my eyes meet his and I realize it’s too late.

  Mason works in the food court in the mall. He’s short with wildly messy orange curls and pretty brown eyes. The smile across his face makes his dimple pop and I pointedly ignore the flutter that goes through my belly.

  “It’s so nice seeing you,” Mason says when he’s close enough. He’s always this excitable. Like a little puppy wagging his tail. If he wasn’t so adorable I would find it off-putting. “Though if I’m honest I almost didn’t recognize you in your street clothes. I’m so used to seeing you in dress clothes.”

  “Hi, Mason,” I say kindly, only slowing my steps rather than stopping all the way. It doesn’t matter, Mason just gets in step with me, heading towards the exit.

  “Are you excited for Thanksgiving? Do you have everything planned already? Are you making dinner?”

  At this, I finally crack a little smile. He’s just so fucking bubbly that it’s hard to stay grumpy around him. He’s like literal sunshine shining against everyone’s faces, trying to brighten their days. It’s annoying but in an endearing way.

  “One question at a time, Mason.”

  Mason’s cheeks pinken before he’s trying again. He takes a deep breath to calm himself before asking, “are you hosting Thanksgiving?”

  I shake my head. “I’ll be heading to my father’s house. It’ll be me, my father, and my two brothers.”

  “I didn’t realize you had brothers. I wish I wasn’t an only child. Do you like having siblings?”

  “They’re okay when they’re not being annoying.”

  Mason lets out a giggle and I find myself cracking the smallest smile. “You find everyone annoying, Benji.”

  “I wouldn’t find them annoying if they weren’t so annoying,” I tell him seriously, giving a shrug. Mason just giggles again. Gods, why is the sound of his giggles so adorable?

  “This year Shane is going to help me cook Thanksgiving dinner.”

  “Who’s Shane? A new boyfriend?” Why did I ask that? I never ask about other people’s lives. Not unless it’s for my job. So why the fuck do I care if Mason has a boyfriend?

  Mason looks up at me with his pretty dark eyes, that blush dusting the heights of his cheeks once more. “No, silly goose. That’s my son.”

  I tilt my head. “You have a son?”

  “Yep! A six year old. I’m usually far too anxious to let him help me with cooking but this year he’s been begging to help. I have some frozen pizzas just in case it's a total disaster.”

  I’m learning so much about this man. Sure, I’ve seen him over at the bakery in the food court but I’ve never struck up a conversation with him. I’ve never gone out of my way to visit his shop and he’s never done the same at the jewelry store that I work at. Sure, I head over there once in a while when I need to sate my sweet tooth. So what’s going on right now?

  “Being prepared sounds like a good idea,” I tell him. I take a deep breath, the sweet smell of cinnamon hitting my nose. At the last second, instead of heading towards the exit, I change my path towards the food court.

  My father loves cinnamon rolls and the smell is just too enticing. Mason follows me over. “Oh, are you stopping for something sweet?”

  I nod my head but don’t add anything more to the conversation. Generally, I don’t like people. I don’t like small talk unless it’s figuring out how best to sell something to one of my customers. I prefer to just be alone at home, sitting out on my deck, or curled up on the couch with a book.

  So why is Mason glued to my side right now? I know it’s not my glowing personality.

  “What are you getting?”

  “A box of cinnamon rolls.”

  “Oh,” Mason says excitedly, “great choice. They smell super fresh too.” We walk up to the register and Mason jumps in before I even have a chance. “Hi, Betsy! Can I please get a box of cinnamon rolls?”

  The girl behind the counter, a siren if I had to guess based on the scales on her face, rings Mason up. When she says the total, he looks over at me. Without asking, I take out my debit card and hand it over.

  “This way, you get to use my employee discount,” he whispers to me, giving me a grin that brings out his dimple.

  “I didn’t really need it, Mason,” I tell him seriously. When his face falls, my stomach clenches unpleasantly so I quickly add, “but thank you. I appreciate the gesture.”

  His smile is back and I feel myself relax. What the hell is going on inside of me? Why do I care about soothing his nerves? Why do I want to run my fingers through his messy locks and make sure his feelings aren’t hurt? I’m not like this with anyone, damnit.

  Betsy, the woman behind the counter, brings me my box. I thank her before picking up the box and leaving.

  Mason falls in step with me once more and I just barely keep myself from asking him what he wants from me. I take a steadying breath, that sweet cinnamon smell soothing me. My inner alpha is stirring, kicking up his hoofs at me, but I’ve always been good at ignoring him. I’m the one in control.

  “Do you work again this weekend?”

  My brows wrinkle as I look down at Mason, findin

g him looking up at me expectantly. “I will,” I tell him. “I work every weekend.”

  “I’m sure your mate must hate that,” he says with a nervous chuckle and that pink blush is back. I tilt my head slightly.

  “I don’t have a mate. That’s why I take the weekend shifts, because there’s no one waiting for me back home.”

  “Oh,” Mason breathes out, giving me a shy smile that has my stomach fluttering about. As we walk, someone with large black wings on their back walks past. Mason leans in close so he stays out of the way and our sides brush. Sparks snake up my side where we touched and I suck in a breath, trying to get myself under control.

  I never react like this. Not even when I was a teenager full of hormones getting my first knot. I shake my head to myself. Maybe these feelings are coming to the surface because it’s been so long since I’ve last slept with someone. Dating isn’t really something that’s worked out for me so casual hook ups have been my saving grace. Though even that has been on the dry spell lately.

  “Thanks for walking with me,” Mason says as we get out to the parking lot. “It’s always nice seeing you when we work at the same time.”

  That’s news to me. Does Mason look forward to seeing me at the jewelry store? Why?

  “No problem,” I tell him instead of questioning his motives.

  “I’ll see you this weekend, Benji. Have a good Thanksgiving with your family.”

  “Thank you,” I tell him before adding on, “and good luck with Shane.”

  The smile he gives me splits his face in two. He gives me a wave before he’s darting over to his little white car. I get into my jeep, taking a moment just to breathe. The cinnamon rolls don’t quite smell as good as they did in the mall and I frown to myself. Oh well, they’ll still be delicious and hopefully my father appreciates the gesture.

  I put on my seat buckle before making my way back home.

  CHAPTER TWO

  BENJI

  I knock on the door three times before cracking the door open. “Hello? I’m here,” I call out, stepping inside and shaking the snow from my shoes. There was a dusting this morning, making everything white. When I was a kid, this used to be my favorite. I would shift into my reindeer form and trample around in the snow with my younger brothers. Now, it just leaves me with a curled upper lip. It’s cold. And wet. And leaves everything muddy. I’m too old to play in it so what’s the point?

  “Benji? Is that you?”

  “Yeah, it’s me, Dad!”

  I quickly take off my coat and hang it up, putting my shoes neatly on the mat beside Brock’s pair before walking into the house towards the kitchen. I find my father and my brother standing side by side, peeling potatoes together.

  “Hey!” Brock says with a wide smile, waving the potato peeler at me in greeting. My brothers are both younger than I am. Brock is 30 while Bryson is the baby who just turned 28.

  “I brought wine and dessert,” I tell them as I step in, putting the wine into the fridge and the cinnamon rolls on the counter. I’m not sure why but I’m disappointed they don’t smell quite as good as they did when I first picked them up but I just chalk it up to the fact that they’re not as fresh today.

  “Big bro always coming in with the goods,” Brock says with a warm chuckle. Once he’s done peeling the potato in his hands he sets everything down in order to walk over and pull me into a tight hug. I’m not usually one for displays of physical affection but my brothers get a pass. So did my mom.

  The thought makes a sense of sadness wash over me. I miss her. I wish she was still here to celebrate the holidays with us. This was her favorite time of the year rivaled only by Christmas. It feels like the joy of the season has been sucked away and I’m not sure what could help bring life back to it for me again.

  “Hello?”

  “We’re in here!” I call back, smiling that Bryson’s made it just in time for his least favorite chore to be finished. He must have perfectly planned his arrival.

  “You’re such an ass,” Brock yells, “you came in just as we finished peeling the potatoes!”

  “Language,” Dad says, nudging Brock with his elbow good naturedly.

  “I’m literally 30, Dad.”

  “And you’ll always be my child no matter how old you get. Look at Benji. He’s greyer than me but he’s still my boy.”

  Bryson walks into the room, letting out an amused giggle. “I totally heard that and you’re right, Dad. Have you thought about hair dye, Benji?”

  I cross my arms over my chest, letting out a huff. “Absolutely not. The gray comes from being so wise.”

  Dad and Brock both snort. “If that helps you sleep at night then sure, big bro, whatever you say.”

  “Who’s the ass now?” I murmur under my breath, running my fingers through my graying hair. It makes me look distinguished.

  Plus, I overheard someone say I look ‘daddy’, which I’m pretty sure is a good thing? Most of my past partners and hook ups have stuck to Sir, but I’m always happy to try new things as long as I’m the one in control.

  The potatoes get put on the stove along with a pot of garlic green beans. My mouth waters as dad opens the oven, carefully basting the turkey. Everything smells amazing and my stomach rumbles.

  I crack open a bottle of wine, pouring four glasses. “So,” Dad says as we sit down at the kitchen table as the food all finishes cooking. He clears his throat. “Here’s to Mom,” he finally says, holding up his glass. “We miss you. Here’s to keeping your spirit alive.”

  We all nod along before sipping our wine. The mood at the table is somber for a moment, knowing someone is missing. But Bryson starts talking and we all smile along as he tells a story about Mom chasing him around the house, her bra stuck to one of his antlers while she had her book club over.

  I was at a friend’s house that night but Bryson never heard the end of it. She brought up that story every single chance she could. The first time Bryson brought an alpha home that he was dating, she told that story and Bryson decided to never date again.

  “Speaking of dating,” Brock says, looking over at me. I let out a long sigh. Great, here we go. Every time the four of us get together, my brothers always have to ask me about my dating life, or rather, comment on the lack of one.

  “Must we get into this?”

  Bryson gets a giant grin on his face. “I’m sorry, Benji, but we must.”

  “You don’t sound sorry,” I say, narrowing my eyes at my brother. I sip my wine, needing it for the questions I know are coming.

  “So,” Bryson starts, leaning his elbows on the table, “when’s the last time you went on a date?”

  “I haven’t dated since the last time you asked.”

  “How am I supposed to live vicariously through you if you refuse to date?” Brock asks, letting out a frustrated whine that makes me crack a little smile.

  “You could just try dating? Instead of expecting me to.”

  “Absolutely not,” Brock says right away, his face turning red. “I’m waiting for the right alpha to cross my path, that’s all.”

  “Right. And I’m just waiting for the right omega.” Brock and Bryce both snort, not believing me for a second.

  Dad lets out a sigh. “I would be lying if I said it wouldn’t be nice to have some little ones running around here during the holidays,” he says and I can hear the longing in his voice. But then he quickly adds, “but I’m not rushing any of you. I know the right person will show up at just the right time.” He stands up, going over to the stove.

  With that out of the way, I stand up and help Dad finish making our meal. Once it’s out of the oven, mashed, seasoned, and ready to eat, we all get ourselves a plate and sit back down.

  “This is nice,” Dad says softly, smiling at each of us. “I’m glad you boys were here to help celebrate. I’m thankful for each of you.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8