Bear In The Rough: Book 1: Treasure Hunt (BBW Bear Shifter Romance) (3 page)

Having finished eating, I put the book away and lay staring up at the ceiling, listening to the plinking of water droplets and the steady hum of a boat’s motor circling the narrow pier. Memories of the handful of beautiful women I had seen since coming to the island crowded out my despair over Granddad’s disappearance. But I was too tired even for lust, and slowly exhaustion crept over me. I could feel myself transforming into my true form, a Canadian brown bear, and then I was asleep.

Chapter 3—Olivia

              I slept through my alarm the next morning, and was already late for work by the time I stumbled out of bed at a quarter past nine. Cursing loudly, I scrambled out of my pajamas (nearly tripping over myself as I ran to the bathroom) and into a beige uniform, brushing my teeth and hair on my way down the hall.

The breakfast bar was groaning under the weight of scrambled eggs, hardboiled eggs, bacon, sausage links, sausage patties, biscuits, white gravy, hash browns, mandarin oranges, cranberries, tea and coffee, but I grabbed a plain bagel and shoved it into my mouth as I ran through the door. By the time I realized I had forgotten cream cheese and butter, I was already standing by the dock, where I had to wait another 20 minutes for the ferry.

You know how when you’re trying not to think about something, it has a way of sneaking up and surprising you? I had spent much of the night in bed, tossing and turning and trying not to think about the handsome man who had apparently snubbed me on Dare2Bear. Bizarrely, the fact that I had never seen his face served to make him that much harder to resist: my mind filled in the blanks, carrying me down into dark gulfs of imagination. I felt embarrassed by it, the way I felt embarrassed by anything that I couldn’t drown out and placate through reason.

             
Breathe, Liv
, I told myself as I stood on the ferry that morning.
It’s just a biological reaction. You can control it. It doesn’t mean anything.

              I was both worried about my job and having to contend with this inexplicable surge of feeling for a handsome stranger I had never seen. Both feelings strove for mastery, but as the ferry docked on the island, fear finally won out. I raced on foot the rest of the way to the money pit, and by the time I finally arrived, my hair clingy and coarse from the salt spray of the sea, Devin was gazing at his watch with a mocking expression.

              “Girl, how much do I pay you?” he asked.

              I just glared in reply. He finally had something to lord over me, and he was going to milk it for all it was worth.

              Seeing the furious look on my face, he circled around me, crowing triumphantly.

              “Hermione here thinks she’s too good for the rest of us,” he said, apparently addressing the five other members of our team (all guys). No one looked up. “She doesn’t have to show up on time. Being punctual is for idiots and losers.”

              “I’m sorry,” I said, through gritted teeth.

              “No, you’re not,” he said, laughing slightly. “I know you’re not, and you know you’re not. You’re just saying that because you have to, because it’s expected of you. Well, as your boss, I’m expected to discipline insubordinate co-workers, and I’m going to. I’m going to take this out of your next paycheck.”

              I actually laughed at the pettiness of it. Forty-five minutes lost wages. The price of a cup of coffee.

              But Devin was determined to make life miserable that morning. No sooner had I grabbed my trowel and dustpan and knelt down in the shade of our canvas tent to begin the day’s digging than he got up and moved the tent. No particular reason, just meanness. Four of the other guys still had shade, but not me and not Milo, who had the misfortune of digging next to me.

              I tried not to notice the intense, burning sunlight beaming over my body, nor the fact that several of the guys had given up working and were just standing around in the tent cover sipping Gatorade and cracking jokes with Devin, who smiled and winked at me when he saw the indignant look on my face. I began dusting mechanically, almost mindlessly, trying not to think about the lavish breakfast I had missed out on or the beautiful man who seemed to be ignoring me, but only succeeded in making myself think harder about both of those things. However, it took my mind off of my current troubles, and I only emerged from my mind-cave an hour or so later when I first heard him yelling.

              “I’ve already warned you once, this is a protected area,” he said. “If you come back again, I’m going to call the police.”

             
That’s unlikely
, I thought. If there had been an actual police presence on this island, I might not have to put up with his constant harassment.

              Looking up from my work, I was startled to see he was talking to the stranger, the man with whom I had briefly locked eyes the day before.

              The stranger spoke in a low voice, so I couldn’t hear his response. It was obvious he was the sort of person who never got ruffled, even when others were losing their cool. He even seemed to be enjoying how agitated Devin was, as he realized his blustering and threats were having no effect.

              “That’s it,” said Devin. “I’m calling the cops.”

              The stranger crossed his arms, smirking slightly and remaining completely motionless. It was a tense game of chicken which Devin eventually lost, as he flung up his arms and began pacing in a circle, combing his fingers through his greasy black hair.

              Meanwhile, the stranger had pulled out a large, green, heart-shaped amulet and stood there casually looking at it, with the manner of a young businessman standing at a railway station inspecting a timepiece.

              I gasped when I saw it, a low gasp of recognition. The color and shape were unique and I’d seen them before. My new friend must’ve heard me, for he turned and looked at me again. This time I averted my gaze and pretended to be consumed with my digging.

              When Devin saw the amulet, he began raving.

              “What are you trying to prove?” he said, cursing furiously. “We’re not interested in your trinkets.” Walking straight up to the stranger—a bold move, considering Devin was shorter than he by several inches—he wrestled the amulet out of his hand and threw it into the trees.

              The stranger watched it fly away with an annoyed look, then went stomping after it.

              “That’s the idea,” said Devin. “Get out of here! Get lost!”

              My blood roared in my ears like thunder. Conscious that I was probably about to lose my job, I threw down my trowel and ran after the stranger and the amulet.

              The emerald couldn’t have flown far, but the pathless wood was hard to navigate and even the man himself temporarily seemed to have been swallowed up by it. The contrast between the dry dust of the money pit and the leafy darkness of the wood could not have been more definite; the moment I crossed the threshold, I felt as though I had traded one world for another. The laughter of my coworkers watching me run off in the direction of a strange man suddenly faded into silence. I was keenly aware of the sound of my own breathing, of the knocking of my heart against my rubs, of the chirping of bugs in the undergrowth, of the creaking of trees and the rustle of branches and the low, distant rumble of unseen creatures.

              Something was stirring in a cluster of trees to my right. Someone was mumbling and whispering and swearing to himself. Someone was wading through ferns and brushing aside heavy limbs struck down by lighting and reading imprints in the dirt like an amateur detective. The figure drew closer and closer until he emerged from the cluster and jumped back with a startled expression at the sight of me.

              “What do you want?” he said coldly.

              This wasn’t the welcome I had expected, though come to think of it I wasn’t sure why. “Are you this contemptuous of everyone?” I asked.

              “Only those who deserve it.”

              “What about people who are trying to help you?”

              “No one wants to help me, sweetie,” he said, beginning to turn away.

              Ignoring the condescending nickname, I said, “Maybe if you gave them a chance.”

              He turned back round, looking at me with a surprised and aghast expression. “Are you just going to stand there and lecture me about how to conduct my social life, or do you want to actually do something useful?”

              “That’s why I’m here.” Must every man be so stubborn? “Look, I’m sorry for how my boss acted. If it helps, I think he’s kind of a jerk, too. He had no right to throw away your amulet.”

              “Does he push everyone around like that? Do you let him push you around?”

              “Do I have a choice?” I asked.

              “You could report the bastard. You could quit.”

              It was my turn to stare at him disbelievingly. “Are you lecturing me about how to do my job now?”

              He shrugged, wiping his sweaty brow with one hand. “Well, now that we’ve gotten the introductions out of the way, suppose you help me find this thing.”

              It was a sign of his charm that, although we had spent the last 10 minutes arguing, I followed him instinctively and without any further questions into the deep woods. He spoke the suggestion with such authority that it never occurred to me to do anything other than obey. I managed to forget my annoyance at his condescension and lack of gratitude as we stepped over tall grasses, some of which he was able to push out of the way while others he hacked apart with a gleaming silver machete.

              “If this is going to work,” he said, “you’ll need to actually listen. When I tell you to do something, you do it immediately. No questions asked.”

              “Got it,” I said, resisting the temptation to be sarcastic.

              “I’ve scoped out this whole wood. To our north, which is where we’re headed, it extends all the way to the beach on the other end of the island. Legend says the wood is full of natural abnormalities: walking lizards, dog men, tropical penguins, glowing land fish…”

              “Have you actually seen any of these creatures?” I asked skeptically.

              “No, but I have seen bears. Bears are a problem all over the island, but they tend to congregate here. I think that’s why my grandfather—”

              But he never finished the sentence, for at that moment a massive brown boar suddenly lunged at him as though appearing straight out of thin air. With an ear-shattering yelp the boar leapt onto his chest, knocking him over, and continued to root around like a dog in search of food while I looked on, transfixed and helpless.

              “Don’t just stand there, princess!” the man yelled. “Help me!”

              “HOW?” I replied, feeling oddly upset by the suggestion.

              The boar was now crawling up his neck and onto his mouth, threatening him with its enormous tusks. He managed to push it out of the way just enough to say, “My machete!”

              “Where is it?” I asked.

              “Under me!”

              He was, indeed, lying on top of the machete, whose gleaming blade protruded out from beneath his back. I quickly realized I wouldn’t be able to retrieve it without getting it out from under him. This was currently impossible because of the creature scurrying around on top of him.

              “I can’t do it,” I said, tears of despair and fear filling my eyes. “I can’t.”

              “What do you mean you can’t?” he balked. “I’m dying here!”

              “You’ll have to turn over, or roll over, or something. I can’t get the boar out from under you.”

              “Look, I don’t think you realize how heavy this thing is. Even if I could roll over, which I can’t, his tusks are just going to slice right through me. This is all up to you.”

              I stood there for a moment, panicking and feeling stupid. This wasn’t how it happened in all the adventures I had ever read, where heroines faced down monsters and hobos with confidence and bravery, never a hair out of place. They would fire the pistol, send the arrow flying and the creature would be defeated and they would make a quip and keep moving. But no quips were forthcoming and the adventure was just as likely to end in both of our deaths, out here in a faraway jungle with no one to mourn or bury us or even acknowledge that we had ever lived.