Eventide of the Bear (The Wild Hunt Legacy #3) (13 page)

After a second, he stroked his thumbs over the backs of her hands, sending a thrill of awareness through her. “Look at me, honey bear.”

Honey bear
? The tone of his voice was as affectionate as when Ryder called Minette “kitten.” It sounded as if…as if he really did like her.

His level gaze was as open and easy to read as Ryder’s was impenetrable. He wasn’t upset. “This isn’t a world-ending event; you simply burnt dinner. We’ve all messed up and more than once.” His lips twitched. “Now, I’m an okay cook, but Ryder’s damn good, yet he’s concocted some real disasters.”

“Really?”

Ben considered for a moment. “I think the worst stink was when he forgot he’d put potatoes on to boil. The water evaporated and burned the shit out of the potatoes. By Herne’s hairy balls, the whole house stank for days.”

The tightness in her chest loosened. “But I ruined dinner. Now there’s nothing to eat.”

“That’s why the Mother gifted us with restaurants and diners. Let me take a quick shower and we’ll all go out to eat.”

He released her and curved his hands around her waist, rising and pulling her to her feet. Rather than stepping away, he moved close enough she felt the warmth of his body from her thighs to her shoulders. “By the God, you smell good.”

His lips brushed her hair.

He was so tall, her eyes were level with his chest. She couldn’t help but see how his blue work shirt strained over his thick pectoral muscles. The opened top buttons revealed springy brown hair, and she wanted to unbutton more, to run her hands over him.

How would the hair feel against her skin? Against her breasts? She blinked. By the Goddess, how inappropriate was that thought?

Tilting her head back, she tried to ignore the strong line of his throat, the square jaw, the dent in his chin.
No, Emma.
She mustn’t allow herself to be so drawn to him.

Too late. His slow smile informed her she’d revealed her desire.
Oh, humiliation.
Where was a deep, dark cave to hide in when a bear needed one?

“Um. I’ll just…” Her words dried up under the hunger in his eyes.

His voice came out a low rumble. “Since it’s a bit soon to ask you to join me in the shower, you’d best take yourself off, darlin’.”

Shower. With him?

Heat flamed up her spine, seared her face with a flush, and sizzled right to her core. “Ah, right.” She eased away and moved toward the stairs. With luck, her limp would conceal the way her knees were wobbling.

He chuckled.

Guess not.

*

At Angie’s Diner
in downtown Cold Creek, Ryder sat with his “family” as he enjoyed a massive slice of cherry pie. With scuffed, wooden floors and blue-checked tablecloths over square tables, the old-fashioned restaurant served home-style food and pies that would do any chef proud.

He thought back to the shriveled mess of a roast Emma had pulled out of the oven. The poor bear’d been so upset, she’d nearly burst into tears. For a second, he’d thought she was putting on a Genevieve-style act, but Emma didn’t wear perfume, and he had smelled her distress. She hadn’t been playacting.

Discomfort inched up his spine. Since Genevieve, he’d only interacted with females at the straightforward, all-about-mating Gatherings. But his avoidance might have gone on a bit long. Possibly Genevieve had a more adverse effect on his life than he’d acknowledged. Possibly he’d become a bit cynical. Or maybe just smarter. Difficult to say.

He was coming to realize that Emma was easily hurt. Vulnerable. Hell, at least she’d tried to cook for them, which was more than Genevieve had ever done. He should’ve seen her embarrassment about not knowing how to cook and been gentler. Ben had figured it out quickly enough.

His brother wasn’t smooth with words—not like, say, the sheriff—but Ben had a bluntly honest kind of charm. It was good his littermate had been there to soothe the little bear.

Ryder took another bite of pie and listened to Ben filling Emma in on some of the local “celebrities.” The drunk who danced on Calum’s bartop sounded intriguing, although foolhardy, considering the Cosantir could fry him with a touch.

As Ben told the tale of a female-hating cahir chasing an overly forward female out of his rental—both of them sans clothing—Emma laughed. A beautiful, throaty laugh.

Ryder leaned back in his chair and studied her without cynicism, which took an appalling amount of effort.

She was a lovely female. Under Ben’s care and the quiet evening, she’d relaxed. Her happiness gave her a glow like a late summer moon. She’d shone as brightly when singing at the tavern last night.

Her singing…

By the God, her exquisite contralto could seize a male by the balls and tow him after her. When she’d sung to Minette, the entire bar had quieted to hear her, and she hadn’t noticed. All her attention had been focused on Minette, and she’d kept the cub’s attention with a very skilled bard’s talents. He could still hear her.

The two of them had looked…heartwarming…cuddling on the couch. His daughter had looked more content than he’d seen her in a long time. Emma was good for the cub. Hell, better than he was. The mite made him feel too big, too rough, and totally at a loss. Males didn’t raise cubs—especially female ones.

Emma’s song had been about the courage it took to try something new. Well, a ready-made family was one “new” he’d never anticipated, but damned if he wouldn’t do a better job raising his cub than either his father or Ben’s had done with them.

From what she’d told Calum, the bard had even less family than he and Ben did. He’d noticed that when singing about the kitten’s homecoming, Emma’s voice had turned wistful. Now he knew—she had no family to return to.

Why had she been reluctant to share she was a bard? The Daonain valued bards highly. Never plentiful, the story masters had grown even scarcer over the last century. Shifters distrusted change, and bards were even more conservative, as if learning the ancient songs engraved tradition into their bones. The human encroachment drove many bards to the isolated Elder villages or to death. Few remained to teach the new generations.

Calum’s opinion had been clear enough. He’d pounced on the little bard like a tasty mouse and had her obligated to sing before she could even think. Yeah, the Cosantir was canny, and Emma’s past was a puzzle he might enjoy piecing together.

Smiling, Ryder returned his attention to the table.

Finishing off his apple pie with a gigantic bite, Ben leaned back with a groan. “The third piece was a mistake.” He grinned at Minette. “I think only a crane will get me out of this chair. What do you think?”

Minette’s eyes danced. Earlier, Ben had shown her his company’s construction equipment. Now she knew what a crane was used for.

Ryder listened, longing to hear a little girl giggle from her, but it never came. Her smile was a delight though.

So was Emma’s smile. Unfortunately for him, however, it was far too appealing. She made him feel as if he was standing on a rain-sodden cliff, the soil shifting beneath his paws as he watched rocks fall, knowing he’d be next. Well, he was an older and wiser cat now. Hopefully.

As Ben scarfed down the last bite of pie, he raised his eyebrows at Ryder. “Your dessert didn’t last long, either.”

“Says the grizzly who devoured three pieces to my one.” Ryder grinned. “It’s a wonder you aren’t even bigger than you are now.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Emma nudge away her half-finished cheesecake—the same dessert she’d been enthusiastically eating a second ago.

Ben frowned and pushed the plate back to Emma. “Eat, honey bear. You need the calories to heal.”

“I’m not hungry any longer.” Her eyes didn’t meet Ben’s.

Genevieve had done the same to get attention. Was always fishing for compliments. However, Emma didn’t display the posture of a female seeking admiration, but rather one trying not to be noticed.

By the Hunter, he hadn’t been trying to hurt her feelings; he’d merely been teasing his littermate about being a big bear. But…Emma was also a bear.
Fuck.

Although Genevieve never doubted her own appeal, he’d known females who worried over their attractiveness. He’d also noticed that, whereas males fought their rivals physically, females often battled with words. Had Emma taken a few verbal slashes? Perhaps she hadn’t lived enough years to understand how alluring she was.

Compassion slid tender fingers between his ribs. He’d inflicted the blow; he needed to fix the damage.

“Little bear.” He waited until her eyes lifted. “Ben’s right. You need extra calories to heal your wound and to keep those lovely curves.” He ran his gaze over her, letting his appreciation show. “And you’re still underweight.”

The flush pinkening her cheeks was damned pretty. When she glanced at his littermate, as if for support, Ryder couldn’t help but think of the many carnal ways he could unsettle her and have her clinging to Ben.

“I like curvy females, too,” Ben stated. “Ones I can enjoy without feeling as if I’ll break them. Your size is perfect.”

“Aye,” Ryder agreed, smothering a laugh at her wide eyes.

As she started to eat again, his smile faded. Rather than possessing Genevieve’s arrogance, this one wasn’t at all sure of her charms. Hadn’t anyone told her how beautiful she was?

Why was she out in the wilderness, anyway? He stopped himself before asking a question that would only disconcert her more. Belatedly, he realized she was as uncomfortable in public as Minette was. She’d chosen the chair facing the room, not something a female usually did. Like Minette, she’d needed a while to relax and join in the conversation. A loud laugh would still make her stiffen, which didn’t make sense. Bards liked people; they weren’t afraid of them.

He glanced across the table and saw Ben regarding the little bear thoughtfully. He didn’t seem to have any more answers than Ryder did. Well, they’d work on the Emma puzzle together. The decision gave him a sense of satisfaction.

Having finished her chocolate cake, Minette used her finger to get the very last of the frosting, although a fair amount ended up on her face. Fucking cute. Grinning, Ryder wiped her face off. “Gotta say, the people here know how to put a meal together.” He’d also noticed that the diner was almost full, which was impressive considering it was a Monday night.

“The desserts are made by Zeb and Shay’s mate, Bree, who used to be a pastry chef in Seattle,” Ben said. “The meals are cooked by Angie herself, and are the ones she made when her cubs were young.”

Ryder exchanged a rueful glance with Ben. With their mother dying at their birth, they’d never enjoyed family dining. “You always hear a mother’s cooking is special.”

“Not my mother’s cooking,” Emma murmured as she swirled the water in her glass. “She never set foot in a kitchen except to order around the cook.”

“Yeah, you said you had a cook,” Ryder said.

Her head shot up in surprise. Hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud, had she? Had she lived in the forests by herself so long she talked to herself?

“I…uh, yes, we did.” Emma looked past him. “I think the cahir over there is looking for one of you.”

Ryder turned to see Zeb crossing the room.

Zeb nodded at Ryder and Emma. Minette got an almost-smile, which—to Ryder’s surprise—she returned. Then Zeb launched into what brought him. “Ben, we could use your help.” His voice was low enough to be heard only by their table. “Got a pack shifter, Tullia. Older than dirt. Her house is falling down around her.”

“Sure. What can’t you handle?”

“Electrical. The kitchen is a house fire waiting to happen. Some oversight for the volunteers. If you have extra time, we’ll take it.”

“Not a problem.” Ben’s gaze became unfocused as he considered. “My electrician is finishing a job tomorrow. How about the day after? And I’ll pop in whenever I have a moment.”

“Appreciate it.” Without another word, the cahir stalked away.

“Friendly, isn’t he?” Ryder commented, getting a low chuckle from Emma.

“Reminds me of you.” Ben grinned. “You should have met him when he and Shay first arrived. First month, we could have counted his sentences on one hand. Cold Creek’s good for him—and he’s paid back the place a thousandfold.”

Several more people came into the diner and greeted Ben. He responded with nods.

“Do you know everyone in Cold Creek?” Emma asked.

“Pretty much,” Ben pushed Minette’s milk closer to her. “Between being a cahir and doing construction, I get around.” He shrugged.

“Zeb didn’t ask for an estimate,” Ryder noted.

“Won’t be a charge.” Ben sipped his beer. “The previous alpha of the wolf pack didn’t do squat for the members, and a lot of the older wolves’ homes are ready to fall down. Now that Shay is Alpha and Zeb is Beta, the two are stuck playing catch-up. I help out where I can.”

Ryder studied his brother, looking past the surface changes, adding up his observations. The nonchalant way Ben had answered was…eye opening, as if everyone “gave” something, and his only decisions were who to help and when.

While doing Ben’s paperwork, Ryder’d noticed Ben’s construction workers had generous benefit packages. Several files had been marked
gratis
with the invoice totals crossed off.