Winston (BBW Bear Shifter Wedding Romance) (Grizzly Groomsmen Book 3) (158 page)

“Good to know,” she said as he pulled her in for another kiss.

It was so easy to keep their working relationship separate from their romantic relationship. April was right, and Brett was terribly surprised. His friends knew almost instantly, they could smell her on him, but his coworkers were completely in the dark.

He treated their time at work like extended foreplay. He would watch her work on something for a few minutes, before moving on, knowing that she felt his gaze on her, knowing that it made her wet to have him watch her like that.
 

He loved it.
 

They didn’t talk much while at work. Sometimes they exchanged a few words if they were both having lunch at the same time. Sometimes, he even pulled her into his office for a quick kiss. But nothing too risky. They often left at the same time, and either went to her place, his place, or to Jeanette’s bar. She fit right in with his friends, and they teased her relentlessly about spending time with him. She was a good sport about it all and gave as good as she got.
 

She and Carrie, Brian’s girlfriend, hit it off as well. When Carrie wasn’t working and was just hanging out with the group, they were constantly huddled up, giggling. Brett had a funny feeling that they were talking about him.
 

One night, after a round of particularly athletic sex that left him panting, she curled up next to him and said, “We’ve never gone on a date.”

He looked at her, eyebrows raised. “Yeah we have. We go to the bar all the time.”

“That’s not a date. That’s us hanging out with friends, in a group.”

“Do you want a romantic dinner? Flowers?” His heart sank. He hadn’t even thought to be particularly romantic with her because their relationship was so easy. Spending time with her was always amazing. He wanted to hit himself for not thinking that she needed romantic gestures just like everyone else.

She shrugged. “Not necessarily anything like that. That’s not very us.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “But, I don’t know, we should do…something.”

He thought for a minute and came up with the perfect idea. He needed to tell her something important, and he knew what the appropriate venue was. He had disclosed his status as a shifter to enough girls to know how to do it properly. “Go camping with me.”

“What? Is that like a weird sex thing? You like doing it in the woods? We have enough sex, we’re supposed to go on a date.”

He laughed. “I mean, I’m happy to have sex in a nice tent, but I actually just really like camping and want to show you something. It’s going to be a date. We’ll cook dinner over a fire. I’ll even pick you flowers,” he joked.

“I know what you’re going to tell me though.”

“No you don’t,” he said, sure of himself.

“I do. You’re a shifter.”

He raised an eyebrow, completely shocked. It wasn’t like being a shifter was some big news story anymore, but people were usually pretty shocked when they found out. “How did you know?”

It was her turn to laugh. “You’re in a motorcycle club called “The Clan,” and a human-supremacist group blew up the bar you frequent like two months ago. It wasn’t that hard to figure out.”

“You’re not bothered?” He looked genuinely worried about it. She wondered if he had been rejected by girls in the past who weren’t okay with his amazing ability.

“Dude, I don’t care if you turn into a duck. I like you for you.” He smiled, clearly relieved.
 

“I like you too.” He paused and searched her face. “A lot.”

She snuggled in closer to him and pressed a kiss to his chest. “I like you a lot too.” She let herself be lulled to sleep by the sound of his heart beat.
 

It was two weeks before they managed to get enough time off to actually go on their camping trip. April demanded that they take her car, seeing as there was no way to safely pack all their things on the bike. Brett insisted that there was but eventually he gave in.
 

He wouldn’t let her drive though. They drove to a state park that he loved to spend time in. They hiked a couple miles before they reached the camp ground that he and his friends had used dozens of times before.
 

She helped him set up the tent. He couldn’t help but be turned on by her no-nonsense attitude about the tent, and helping him start the fire. It was one of his favorite things about her, her insistent need to help and not simply stand by and let other people do things for her.

She sat down on a log, and looked up at him. “So is this the part where you show me the shifter thing?”

He nodded. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Yep. I even looked up a video of a shift just so I would be prepared.”

“A video isn’t going to prepare you, darling. It’s a little intense to watch.”

“I can handle it,” she insisted.

“I know you can. We wouldn’t be here if you couldn’t.”

She took a deep breath and watched him strip down. He stood there, naked, and then it began.

He changed. It was amazing but terrifying to watch. He was right, the video hadn’t prepared her for anything. She could see his bones shift under his skin as he became a bear. He fell onto all fours, his body elongating at the same pace as his skull. Fur burst all over his body, covering him in a light brown down. He panted slightly as the change finished. The bear that was once Brett turned its head and looked at her. Something about his eyes were still all Brett.
 

“Hi,” she whispered. The bear snorted, and she assumed he was saying ‘hey’ right back. The bear, Brett, walked towards her. She instinctively stepped back and he stopped. “I’m good,” she promised. “It’s just, ya know, you’re a bear.” He nodded and then began to move forward again. She closed her eyes and then opened them when something warm and wet touched her hand. She slowly opened her eyes. Brett pushed his snout into her hand.

She let him sniff her for a moment before she was brave enough to reach out and touch him. She petted his head and rubbed behind his ears. He seemed to really like that. “You’re kind of adorable like this.” He made a snorting sound that very clearly communicated that he was not adorable. “You are though,” she continued. She ran her hands down the soft fur on his back. “Like a giant puppy.”

He snorted again and stepped back, away from her. “Oh, no! Don’t be mad!” She watched as he shifted back into his human form. It was less grisly that way.
 

There he stood in all his muscular, naked glory, looking at her like she was insane. “I’m not adorable. I am a terrifying bear.” She looked down, hiding a smile. He took two steps forward, covering the distance between them.
 

He scooped her up easily, and carried her to their tent. “Me girl, you man?” she joked as he set her down on the plush sleeping bags. Her eyelids fell shut as he began to caress her body.

“Something like that,” he said as he made quick work on her pants and shirt, pulling them off her with breakneck speed. “Or,” he said, kissing her. “Me man, you wife?”
 

Her eyes snapped open, and there was a ring sitting on her stomach. “Brett…” she looked at him, tears obscuring her vision.

“Marry me?” He must have been insane to ask her, she thought. They hadn’t been dating long. Hell, he had a ring. He planned this. But in her gut, she knew that he was the one. He would always be the one. And she wanted to spend the rest of her life fixing cars with him.

She sat up, slipped the ring on her finger, and threw her arms around him. “Yes,” she said, her heart pounding. “Of course.”

End.

Hook, Line And Sinker

Fisherbears Book I

by

Becca Fanning

Lila Ellis hunched over the bar top, scribbling notes on her napkin. Making inventory.

When the bartender offered Lila her drink—whiskey, straight, firmly middle shelf—she downed it in one long gulp, set it on the counter, and muttered, “One more of the same, thanks.”

On her napkin, she crossed out
$50
and wrote
$40
. That was all the cash she found in her camera bag when she upended it in the dim airport bathroom, muttering curses, scattering empty SD card cases across the counter. Her emergency stash. She almost felt guilty dipping into it.

But, Lila reasoned, this was certainly an emergency.

Twelve hours earlier, she’d left her Toronto apartment with a single suitcase, her camera bag, and her parka. 2,500 miles and three connecting flights later, Lila landed at last in Sitka, Alaska, which the internet described as a salty little coastal town wedged between forest and sea, just a cartographic speck among a handful of islands. One of the last towns before you hit the razor edge of modern civilization. In the pictures online, it looked misty and magical. But they were nothing compared to the moment Lila stepped off that plane into a foreign dusky world, looked across sleek obsidian water at the mountain that rose up to meet her, its tree-lined peak curved like the ridged back of a creature from a lost age. And she stood there beaming stupidly, flushed with the joy of a last-second trip going even better than she could’ve imagined.

Until she got inside. Until she spent forty minutes at the baggage claim waiting for a suitcase which, she soon learned, never even made it to Sitka. Everything vanished into airport limbo: her house keys, her clothes, her maps and notes and itinerary—and, of all things, her wallet.

Even in a town this small, you couldn’t make it too far without any money.
 

Lila scanned her list again with mute panic: a cellphone with no signal, house keys, camera, lenses, forty bucks, the clothes on her back, the parka squeezed between her knees, hat, gloves, passport.

How could there be nothing else?
 

“Here you go, sweetheart.”

Lila jerked her head up, paused her furtive scribbling. The bartender stood before her. Her long black braid was threaded silver. She looked like somebody’s mother. “Uh.” Lila examined her list.
Pen,
she added. “Thanks.”

“What’s a little thing like you doing visiting the likes of us?”

Lila smiled, blankly. Words like
little
still snagged at her like fishhooks. She spent all of high school terrified she’d be stringy as a ten-year-old boy until the day she shriveled up and died. Even after she got tits, that old gut-deep instinct to be defensive of her stature remained.

She swallowed and said, “I do freelance wildlife photography.”

“You must be here to see the whales, then.”

Lila nodded, numbly.

The bartender slapped her hand towel on the bar. “You ask one of those boys when they get in here—they’ll start in the next fifteen minutes or so, you watch the clock; the men in this town all run on the same ol’ clockwork—you ask one of ’em to take you to the good spots.”

“I’ll probably have to ask for more than that,” Lila muttered, but the front door hinged open, and the bartender’s attention shifted to the new customers who’d come in.
 

Lila, feeling conspicuous and a more than a little stupid, threw the rest of her whiskey back and watched the clock. Consulted her list. Tried to look calm.

True to the bartender’s word, as the clock tipped toward eight, the bar started to fill up.

Lila quickly realized that Sitka men had a sameness to them. Once they shed their coats, those men were all hoodies and plaid shirts, worn ball caps and pale denim jeans that hung loose as a paper bag from hip to boot. All wind-sore cheeks and semi-permanent scowls. There were women, too, most of them young and dressed like they were desperate to meet somebody, anybody, new. The air swelled and buckled to accommodate the suddenly bustling bar. Conversations stacked one on top of the next, and soon most everyone was hollering and laughing, and the bartender whisked from one end of the bar to the other with all the confidence of an actor who’d done this scene a thousand times over.

No one seemed to notice Lila at all.

She tapped her empty glass loudly against the bar until the bartender glanced her way, and then she said, “You guys got Blue Moon?”

She offered Lila a thumbs up.

$37
, Lila wrote, and then the beer appeared before her, and Lila guzzled it until she felt light and airy and untouchable. She wheeled around in her chair to survey the bar and its occupants. In the haze of cigarette smoke, her eyes at last lighted on an oldish guy slouching at a table behind her. Wild shock of greying hair. Gaze on his pint. Nice watch. Plus he was quiet and alone, just like her, so she pretended that was something they had in common.

Lila pushed off her stool and made her way over. She eased into the chair across from the man and ventured, “Heya.”

He looked up at her, snorted. “What d’you want?”

“I’m, uh, I’m not from around here.”

“No shit?”

Lila frowned. People in small American towns were supposed to be nice, she thought. “Um. I flew in just now. Today. They lost my luggage, and my wallet was in there, so—”

“You always put your wallet in your carry on, girlie.” The old man regarded her over the rim of his glass. “Pretty basic tenant of traveling.”

“Well, I already didn’t, so.” Lila tried to smooth her hair back. She felt a little too drunk for this. “I just need a place to stay.”