The Bear Prince: A BBW Bear Shifter Billionaire Paranormal Romance Novella (Seattle's Billionaire Bears Book 3) (2 page)

“No!” shouted Crystal, reaching for the ball, but Damien held her back, his strong, firm arms keeping her in place. Crystal watched as the ball fell down into the well, out of sight, glimmering slightly. She swore she heard a
ribbit
come from the well, and she squinted, making out the outline of what looked like...a frog? What the heck was a frog doing in a well in the middle of Seattle? It was definitely a frog though, with green skin and all...and it almost looked like it was smiling. To Crystal, it was just another strange event in a day filled with oddities.

“You can’t reach it,” said Damien. “You’ll drop the rest of your stuff in there.”

“Can you get it out for me?” asked Crystal. “Or at least show me where a shed is so I can find some tools to fish it out?”

“Wait, what?” asked Damien.

“You
are
one of the gardeners, right? Or groundskeepers or whatever?” asked Crystal, gesturing to the man’s shears which he’d left by one of the hedges. “You know where they keep the tools?”

“Yeah,” said Damien, playing along. “Uh...I’ll fish it out for you. On one condition.”

“What is it?” asked Crystal.

“Three dates,” said Damien. “With me. One a week, for the next three weeks.”

“You can’t be serious,” said Crystal. “You’re asking me to go with you on three dates?”

“What, you’re too good to date the gardener?” asked Damien.

“No, I don’t make enough to go on three dates in such a short amount of time,” said Crystal. “How much do you think journalists make?”

“Who said anything about you paying?” asked Damien.

“Fine, fine, just get the invitation,” said Crystal.

“Give me two seconds,” said Damien. He ran off across the property and was back within five minutes, with a fishing rod in hand.

“Of course you managed to find a fishing rod,” said Crystal. “Of course.”

“Stand back,” ordered Damien. Crystal walked back and watched as Damien carefully cast a fishing line, both hooked and weighted, down into the depths of the well. He cast it a few times before reeling it back up, ball on the end. “Got it!”

Crystal walked over. There was the invitation...but it was absolutely busted. The material around the ball had disintegrated like a wafer, and the invitation inside was ruined. There was no way anyone was going to accept that invitation at the door. “Oh nuts,” cursed Crystal. “What am I going to do? Delaina said that this was the only invitation I’d have issued to me.”

“I know someone with a spare,” said Damien.

“You know someone?” asked Crystal.

“Yeah, a buddy of mine knows someone high up at the Manor,” said Damien. “I can get an invite in my name, and take you.”

“Really? You’d do that for a stranger?” said Damien.

“Not just any stranger...a stranger who owes me three dates,” said Damien, pulling out his wallet and giving Crystal a card with his number that had no other text on it. “I’ll pick you up this Friday at seven. Don’t be late, sugar.”

***

“...a
nd so that’s what happened,” said Crystal, finishing up the story of what had transpired at the Manor that afternoon, and finishing up her wine.

“No frikkin’ way,” said Tangie, Crystal’s best friend.

“Is this enough proof for you?” asked Crystal, pulling the card out of her wallet and showing it to Tangie. There was the number.

“Crystal, have you called him yet? Or texted?” asked Tangie.

“No way,” said Crystal. “I’m hoping he just forgets this even happened. There’s no way that guy is going to be able to get me an invite to the ball. It’s just not possible that a gardener has that kind of connect.”

“What’s wrong with him?” asked Tangie. “Handsome, employed, and a shifter, that’s all you need in a man.”

“I don’t like that he’s trying to manipulate the situation to get a date with me,” said Crystal. “If he had just asked me on a date, without strings attached, or I guess, in this case, without a fishing rod and an invitation to the Ball attached, then that’d be one thing. But I don’t like guys playing games. Why would he play games with a girl like me anyway?”

“You really have no idea,” said Tangie, shaking her head and waving down the bartender to get them two more drinks. “Crystal...you’ve lived in this city for how long, and you still haven’t dated a shifter?”

“Or any guy,” said Crystal. “I’ve been too busy, you know that, and—”

“And you don’t make time for love,” said Tangie. “Or for fate.”

“For fate? What’s gotten into you, Tangie?” asked Crystal.

“You really have no clue what shifters are like, do you?” asked Tangie, finishing her drink just as the bartender brought her another. “Shifters mate for life, they call their true loves ‘fated mates’, and when guys meet their fated mates...sometimes, they do down-right dumb things. For all you know, you could be this Damien’s fated mate.”

“As if,” said Crystal, rolling her eyes.

“Go on a date with him,” insisted Tangie. “Let yourself have a little fun. What’s the worst that could happen, you fall in love?”

“Fine, fine,” said Crystal, opening her phone and programming in Damien’s number. She sent a text:
Hey. This is Crystal.
She showed the phone to Tangie. “How’s this?”

“It’s a start,” said Tangie with a wicked smile, sipping at her wine.

***

“...a
nd so that’s what happened,” said Damien to his cousins, Cedar and Aspen Asher, as they sat in the Asher Mansion’s cigar lounge which was now used to house the younger Asher-Dixon Clan’s scotch collection. He sank back down into the overstuffed leather chair that, with age, had been well broken in. “One minute, I was trimming the hedges, working out my annoyance, because grand-auntie keeps pressuring me to find a date to the Golden Ball, like she does every year, and all of a sudden, who falls into my world? The woman I’m sure is my fated mate. Her name’s frikkin’ Crystal, how more obvious can it get?”

“You’re saying this girl had no clue who you were?” asked Cedar.

“No clue,” said Damien. “I thought she was paparazzi, but when she deleted that shirtless picture of me, I knew there was no way she was, unless she’s playing the long game.”

“Did she seem like the kind to play the long con?” asked Aspen.

“Absolutely not,” said Damien.

“How do you know?” asked Cedar.

“I looked into her eyes, and I just...I just knew,” said Damien.

“And what about your bear?” asked Cedar.

“My bear isn’t holding back, not at all,” said Damien. “I’ve never heard him roar so loudly, not in all my life.”

“So this girl thinks your name is...what was it again?” asked Cedar.

“Damien Michaels,” said Damien.

“Well, you’re not entirely lying,” said Aspen wickedly. “But you can’t keep this secret forever.”

“I know I can’t,” said Damien. “It’s just...I need to be absolutely sure I can trust her before I let her know who I am.”

“Be careful, the more you conceal, the deeper the hole you dig for yourself to crawl out of,” warned Cedar. “Honesty is the best policy. Maybe you should’ve just gotten her a replacement invitation, I’m sure Delaina had spares and was just talking a big game. You know how cat shifters can be.”

“I’ll tell her when it’s right,” promised Damien. His phone buzzed. Finally. It had taken her long enough to text him, the girl he was worried he’d never see again.

It was just a four-word text...but all fairy tales start with forewords and four words:
once upon a time
.

I
t was Friday, nearly seven, and Crystal was still figuring out what she was going to wear. Crystal stood in front of her mirror, going over outfit combinations in her head. It was just a first date, but it was the
first
first date she’d been on in a while...in a long while. In at least a year...and six months, and three days, but it wasn’t like she was counting. She didn’t exactly have a lot of date clothes, mostly stuff that was practical or formal enough to wear to work, but nothing that was semi-formal without screaming business casual. Tangie had brought over two dresses. It was the perks of having a friend that matched her in size, but Tangie’s style was far more...eye-catching than Crystal was used to.

There was nothing wrong with the dresses: they were from good labels, fit her well, and looked stunning on and off the rack and hanger, but Crystal felt out of place and uncomfortable in the dress that was black with sequin beading, so she opted for the plain navy dress with a sweet heart bust-line and a white anchor design on the hem which she dressed up with a plain silver necklace with a sapphire-colored rhinestone charm pendant. She did her makeup, put on a pair of black flats and a plain black leather cross-body purse, and grabbed a grey comfy cardigan, because there was a bit of a nip in the air. Now, she just had to wait.

She’d texted Damien her address and he’d texted her to confirm they were still on for a date that afternoon. They hadn’t had any small talk through text, but Crystal liked that. It was a welcome change from guys who would text and text and then flake out or stand her up on dates and waste her time. Her apartment buzzer went off, surprising Crystal, as usually, guys would text her to come down. She hit the intercom buzzer. “Hey,” she said.

“Is this Crystal?” asked a voice. “This is Damien.”

“I’ll be right down,” said Crystal.

“Buzz me in,” said Damien.

Crystal pressed the buzzer. Damien had come off as old fashioned, but not the kind of old fashioned that needed to walk a girl down the stairs, which she could obviously handle herself. In a few minutes, she heard a knock at the door. She looked through the peephole: there was Damien, holding a vase with a paper bag over the top.

She opened the door. “Hey Damien,” said Crystal. “I hope you found the place okay. Sorry my apartment’s a bit of a mess.”

“It’s no big deal,” said Damien. “These are for you.”

Crystal cleared magazines off of an end table and took the vase from Damien. She put it down on the end table and removed the bag. Below the bag was a dozen roses, all different shades of red, from cherry red to wine crimson, with different petal styles, all long-stem. The vase seemed to reflect all the light in the room, bouncing small rainbows off its facets into the petals of the flowers. “Wow, you really didn’t have to bring that,” said Crystal, awestruck. “But thank you. The vase and the flowers are gorgeous.”

“A gorgeous woman deserves gorgeous flowers,” said Damien. “And I wasn’t sure if you’d have a big enough vase for all the flowers, so I had the florist include one for you.”

“Believe it or not, I’ve never had a guy buy me flowers before,” said Crystal as the pair walked out of her apartment and she locked the door.

“Well, then you’ve never met a real man,” said Damien.

“And what exactly does this real man have in store for tonight?” asked Crystal.

“I was thinking a real man’s sport, mini-golf, followed by dinner, unless you’re hungry now,” said Damien. “And drinks or dessert somewhere else.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun, actually,” said Crystal. “I haven’t gone mini-golfing since I was a kid, so I might not be any good.”

“I’m sure you’ll be great,” said Damien. “There’s a mini-golf course outside the city limits we can get to pretty quickly.” He unlocked the large black SUV in front of the apartment complex. The lights flashed.

“That’s your car?” asked Crystal.

“My car, your carriage, same difference,” said Damien, opening the door for Crystal. Crystal blushed as she entered the car. Damien was old fashioned enough to bring her flowers, walk her down the stairs, open the door for her, and take her for mini-golf. There had to be a catch.

“So, are you serious about this whole ‘three dates’ thing?” asked Crystal.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” asked Damien.

“Oh, it’s just...I don’t know, it seems kinda silly,” said Crystal. “If you wanted to ask me out, you could’ve just said, ‘Hi, my name’s Damien, let’s catch a movie’.”

“Ah, but then I’d only get one shot at impressing you,” teased Damien. “Besides, having leverage made it so that I would actually have a shot with you.”

Crystal burst out laughing. “Really? Me? The curvy girl who works as a journalist for a small newspaper, I’m the catch here?”

“What, you seriously think that a gardener like me has a chance with a beautiful girl like you?” asked Damien.

“Of course you would’ve,” said Crystal. “Besides, I’m sure being a gardener has its perks.”

“What sort of perks?” asked Damien.

“Well, I’m sure that you hear all kinds of gossip around the Asher Mansion,” said Crystal. “Juicy gossip.”

Damien’s neck hairs prickled. “I don’t really care for that stuff,” said Damien.

“Ah, but if you did, you could make a fortune selling the info to tabloids,” joked Crystal.

“Hey, you’re the journalist, isn’t that more your field of expertise?” asked Damien.

“Me? Heck no. You couldn’t pay me to do that. I’ve got this little thing called journalistic integrity, and the last thing I want in my literal or spiritual portfolio is a bunch of trashy articles written for rags that aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on,” said Crystal. “Tabloids. What a frikkin’ waste. Do we really need to read about celebrity secrets when we could be reading about things that actually matter? If the paparazzi put half the effort they put into fighting over photos of private citizens into covering important stories, the world would be a much different, much better place.”

A wave of relief went through Damien. “So what paper do you work for again?” asked Damien.

“Oh, I guess I forgot to mention that,” said Crystal. “I work for the Seattle Free Gazette.”

“The Seattle Free Gazette?” asked Damien. “Don’t think I have a subscription to that paper...”

“Nobody does,” said Crystal. “And that’s the problem...I love writing, but, there’s nothing interesting about writing for the SFG. They never publish anything interesting at all. I have ideas for articles, and my editor’s always shooting them down.”

“So what do you write about?” asked Damien.

“It’s kind of embarrassing...but I write a lot of articles about local businesses,” said Crystal. “Not like, exposes, but articles about new stores opening, fire sales, cats being rescued from trees by firefighters, that sort of thing.”