The Christmas Tree Bear: A Bear Shifter Paranormal Holiday Romance (11 page)

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A Lone LumberWolf

Wycombe Shifters, Book 1

EXCERPT

“Can’t play the Canucks game.  The pianist starts throwing things.”

Jacque paused with the shot glass against his lips.  He pulled it back and asked, “Throwing things?”

“Yup.”  Stella tapped the shot glass back toward Jacque’s mouth with a forefinger and a smile.  “The incorporeal can be shit heads, even before they have artist tempers.”

Jacque swallowed his shot and followed Stella’s gaze to the piano in the far corner of the rustic bar.  It was playing a jaunty old style jazz tune, the keys compressing on their own.  

“Thought it was a self playing piano or something,” Jacque muttered.

“Poltergeist,” Stella corrected.  “Or ghost.  We’ve never been sure!  Started up when my mom and dad still owned the place.  Yo, Peter!”  She shouted at the piano. “We’re turning on the Penguins!”  Stella flipped the channel on the TV above the bar to the hockey game about to start.

A few seats down the bar from Jacque, the wereleopard with beige tufted ears growled.  

“Hush up, Rene.”  Stella teased with the good nature one has with regulars.  “Hockey is always going to win over curling.  If I can’t watch the Canucks, gonna watch the Penguins.”

Jacque offered the regular a half smile.  “That okay with you, friend?”

Rene rolled his eyes but nodded.  Jacque glanced at Stella and tipped his head in the shifter’s direction.  She grinned and poured a shot of tequila for Rene.

“See, grumpy cuss? New guy is okay!  Now, play nice while I pay attention to my less handsome customers.”  Stella winked at Jacque and made her way out from behind the bar.  Customers cat-called her, asking why weren’t they handsome, weren’t they her favorite?  She smacked one with a dish towel and laughed as she bused tables and took orders.

He had heard about this bar before when he still used to be a long haul truck up and down the West coast, but it was interesting to see it in person.  Most of the shifters were comfortable enough to let part of their glamour fall away, like Rene the wereleopard and his snowy ears.  Or the jazz ghost.  There was a fairy hovering in the corner in jeans, beanie cap to hide his pointed ears, but his glittery wings were on display.  There was a lizard lady dancing to the slow jazz.  Or a lizard gentlemen, he wasn’t entirely sure.

Jacque watched Stella while pretending to watch the game.  She was a generously portioned woman with long, wavy coppery hair and an incredibly warm personality.  She was not pretty in a conventional sense, but striking.  He felt the corner of his mouth quirk up when she ruffled the hair of two teens and gave them sodas instead of beers.  

“So, where you from, wolfman?”  Rene asked him after a sip of his beer.

Jacque rubbed his greying beard before answering, pretending he had not been caught eying the owner.  “The road?”  he offered.

“Ah.”  Rene took another sip of his beer.  “Meet a lot of people from there in this place.  You another of those trucker boys?”

“Used to be.”  Jacque drank his own beer.  “I own that place down on Corinth Street now.  I build hand made furniture, stuff like that.”

“...the one with all bear wood carvings on the front lawn?”  Rene asked after a moment.

“Yeah.”  He paused.  “Look, people like bears.  I sell a lot of those.”

Rene took another sip of his beer, eyes on the game.  “You’re a strange werewolf, but at least you like the Cancucks.  I’ll make sure one of the boys comes by and invites you to poker night.  Lose at least fifty bucks the first time, or you don’t get invited again.”  He paused then added, “You can get it back the next week.  Abdur is shit at cards.  Hey, Audi!”  

The fairy in the beanie flipped off Rene even as he floated over.  “You still owe me money, you ass,” he reminded Rene all good natured.  He blinked at burly Jacque.  “New guy?” he asked.

“New guy.”  Rene answered.  “He can play darts.  He beats you, we’re square.  You beat him, he owes twenty bucks.”  Rene shoved Jacque over the stool.  “Go get ‘em, wolfman.”

“Wait, what--”  

Audi laughed and propelled him toward the dart board along the back wall of the old bar.  “Rene likes to take new people under his wing.  He’s introducing you around.  Come lose at darts!  It’ll be friendly.”

Jacque let himself be pushed around the bar.  “I get the feeling losing is an important part of making friends at this place.”

“Best part!”  Audi assured him.

Jacque considered it a job well done as he threw a dart into the wall a good foot from the dart board.  The regulars at the nearby table cheered for him.  “Way to go, new guy!”  the lizard shouted and waved their beer.  He needed to politely find a way to ask how they preferred to be addressed:  they were a good sport when he accidentally landed a dart in their beer pitcher.