Bear to the Rescue (Bear Claw Security Book 3) (10 page)

But even though she felt she was coming to love him, she couldn’t believe it.

For now, he would have to be sure enough for both of them. And she would have to hope a little more time together would help her sort out what was and wasn’t meant to be.

She pulled his arms tight around her and let her body relax. The room was quiet, and the sun had set outside, leaving the world around them dark, the room dimly lit by lamps on each side of his bed.

“I can wait for you, Regan,” he said again. “No matter how long it takes.”

She bit her lip. “I can’t make any promises. I’ve lived my life just one way as long as I can remember. And sure, this feels right to me. But I’m sure my mom felt right about my dad. And things change.”

“Some things don’t change,” he retorted. “You’re my mate. I know that.”

She sighed. “You’re incorrigible.” She started to get up, but he pulled her back. “What is it?”

“I know you aren’t going to give me promises,” he said, wrapping his big body around her in a way that made her feel safe. “But you are going to cuddle me as a way of making up for it.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You want to cuddle?”

He nodded. “Of course. I don’t know if you got this yet, but I’m kind of a romantic guy. I demand cuddling if you’re going to use me for sex and not make an honest man out of me.”

She laughed. “Well, I’ve never been a cuddler.”

“Only because you’ve never found the right bear,” he said against her neck, making little warm sensations shoot through her.

She sighed. “All right, teddy bear,” she said. “Show me how to cuddle and then we’ll go to bed.”

And that’s what they did.

T
he next morning
, Bronson called in to Bear Claw to say they would be coming in late, as he wanted to take Regan shopping to replace some of the things that were missing after her apartment had been trashed.

Regan was surprised when he drove her to a high-end mall just outside the city, the kind of place she never shopped on her own.

“You trying to butter me up?” she asked skeptically as he handed her out of the car. “I could never shop somewhere like this on my salary.”

“Well, since it’s partly my fault your place was wrecked, you don’t have to feel guilty about it coming out of
my
salary.”

“Excuse me,” she said, poking him in the chest, forcing him back a step with a gentle smile on her face. “But it wasn’t your fault my stuff was wrecked. It was your fault I wasn’t there to get wrecked with it.”

“That reminds me,” he said. “We should really have you taking self-defense lessons.”

“I know how to fight,” she said.

He raised a blond eyebrow. “Really?”

She folded her arms as they walked in the cool morning wind toward the glass doors that formed the entrance. Bronson held the door for her, and she trudged in, wary of how shopkeepers were going to look at her clothing, which was composed of dark skinny jeans, an old tee she loved, and a hooded jacket over the top.

She liked clothing that matched her image as a techie, and she liked the way they emphasized her curves.

“Yes, I can fight,” she said. “I took lessons for a couple years after I was emancipated. They had them at the local community center for cheap.”

He scratched his head. Today, he was wearing a light-blue sweater that did devastating things for his blue eyes and tanned skin and draped gorgeously over his muscled body. “Well, I’m not going to belabor the point when I’m here to protect you anyway. But in the future, we should check out your skills.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “You know, if you’re going to stay at Bear Claw Security.”

Her heart thumped. “So you want me to stay there permanently? As an employee, I mean?”

He put a hand in hers and led the way down the the first long row of shops. “I’d like that, yes. As more than an employee, if possible. But if not, it just gives me more time to win you over.”

She blinked. What did she want? More time at Bear Claw? More time with Bronson? He released her hand and walked a little ahead of her, giving her room to think.

His ass was perfect, taut and rounded in his khakis, and the bear in her made it hard to think for a while. He was truly what any woman should want. Handsome, hardworking, amazing in bed.

But as he turned back to her with that dazzling smile, she felt a pang through her chest. Suddenly, all she could think about was how it would feel to see that face pulling farther away. To see that face angry, leaving her. Changing everything.

Her heart pounded as the air changed around her, reminding her of the night they’d lost their house. Lost everything. It had been cold, and people had stared at them as they’d been evicted. She trembled just remembering it.

Especially in contrast to the warm glow of her father’s smile. He’d been rich, too. Upper class. Just like Bronson. He’d held her on his lap and bounced her and told her Daddy would always care for her.

And then the stepdads that came after. Each of them also said they would be there for her.

Each one had failed.

Alone, alone, alone. The only time it had stopped bothering her had been when she decided to do it on her own.

The bear in her told her Bronson was her mate. She knew this… yet…

Bronson looked back at her curiously, reaching out a hand. He’d been through so much, too. Being sold off by his own family? She couldn’t even imagine that. Having a brother he still couldn’t talk to, who didn’t know what happened and probably blamed him? Also terrible.

But it didn’t change what she knew, which was people were likely to leave her and disappoint her. Even ones who claimed to love her.

She walked up to him and hesitantly put her hand in his. He’d brought her here to help her, and she was going to accept it. Have a good day together shopping for some of her lost things. She wouldn’t let the past get in her way.

“Are you all right?” he asked as they came up to the first clothing store that looked like it had things she would like. There was kind of a punky edge to the clothes, an indie vibe.

“I’m fine,” she said. But his offer to stay at Bear Claw was swirling in her mind. Along with his request for her to be his mate the night before.

“I’ll sit here,” he said, taking a seat on a bench in front of some dressing rooms. He looked so handsome and out of place in a store full of black and dark colors. Bronson was like a ray of sunlight, and the saleswomen immediately started fawning over him.

Regan rolled her eyes, but when she looked over, she noticed his hot gaze ignoring them, focused only on her.

It made her think of the night before. Made her hands tingle as she worked her way through the racks.

She held up a few shirts against her and knew they would fit. She didn’t want to bother with dressing rooms while Bronson was waiting, and she’d shopped long enough to know what would and wouldn’t look good on her.

She grabbed them and headed over to another rack, looking at a cute skull sweatshirt in black with dark-pink accents. She flipped over the price tag, scoffed, and put it back.

“Aren’t you going to try anything on?” Bronson asked, appearing behind her. “I’d love to see it.”

His hands worked around her waist, and she flushed, feeling the eyes of the saleswomen look away in disappointment. It was so odd, being claimed in person.

It also reminded her if she stayed at Bear Claw full time, everyone would soon know about their affair.

The thought was uncomfortable, but not as bad as the thought of losing Bronson.

“I don’t need to try them on,” she said.

“All right,” he said, putting up his hands. “You make the calls.”

She grinned at him. “Thanks.” She liked the way he let her do as she liked. Sure, sometimes he could get pushy or possessive or up in her space. But in the ways that mattered, he let her make the calls.

She grabbed a couple more shirts and a pair of soft black pants that would be great to work in and carried them over to the counter.

She was surprised when the black hoodie she’d been eyeing found its way on top of the pile, dropped by Bronson’s hand.

“You forgot this,” he said, handing his card over to the cashier before she could protest.

She flushed as he paid, giving her a charming smile.

She could sort of picture this part of their life, too. Shopping and smiling and bantering as they got whatever they needed.

As mates.

The word shook her, but not as hard as it had every other time. Perhaps, just maybe, she could get used to it.

A
fter they’d finished
shopping for new clothes and the back of Bronson’s car was loaded up with bags (many more than Regan had anticipated), he took them a few blocks over to a local farmers’ market to buy food. 

Regan was still nervous about all the new things she was allowing Bronson to do for her and the job offer that hung in the air, but she was pushing herself to keep moving. She told herself the discomfort was just stretching outside her comfort zone and it was good, healthy.

Still, the sunlight felt amazing as they stepped out of the car and started walking among the stalls.

Regan watched with amusement as Bronson inspected various fruits and veggies. She took his arm to follow him as he made his way effortlessly through the early afternoon crowds as they bustled around from tent to tent. The market itself seemed to have anything imaginable that came out of the ground.

One aisle was filled with numberless bouquets of flowers and potted plants that emitted a pleasant aroma, filling the air. Dozens of vendors occupied the small public square, selling anything from cabbage to kale to ripe tomatoes, while in the back, Regan could see other booths that seemed to be offering crafted wares and other knickknacks.

It had been a long time since Regan was out in a large crowd like this, and the throng of people reminded her why she liked to work alone, indoors.

“So do you come here often?” Regan asked Bronson, staying close to him as he carefully inspected a batch of what looked like zucchini. Or maybe they were cucumbers. 

“Frequently. Got to keep the machine running, you know? Food is fuel and all that,” he replied, selecting three that appeared to his liking and putting them in a bag before handing a bill over to the person behind the table, who gave him change and a receipt.

“I can imagine a guy like you goes through a lot of it,” she joked, enjoying the view of his backside while he completed the transaction.

“Yeah, you don’t want to know what my monthly food budget is,” Bronson said as he turned around to face her, his height still intimidating, almost a little unnerving, despite the time they’d spent together. 

“Yeah, I probably don’t want to,” she teased.

Bronson just grinned, gave her a small shrug, and moved on to the next booth, this one chock full of peppers of a wide array of shapes and colors. 

Off to the right, Regan could feel the booths belonging to the craftspeople and doodad vendors calling to her. Perhaps she could go over there for a moment while Bronson shopped his veggies. It would give her just a moment to clear her head without his intimidating presence right next to her, constantly reminding her of the strong feelings threatening to overwhelm her.

“I’m going to go check out that necklace seller over there,” Regan said, pointing in the direction of the canopy over the crafts booths. 

Bronson turned to her and raised an eyebrow, clearly not keen on the idea, but not giving an immediate reason as to why she shouldn’t. 

“I guess so. But stay where I can see you. I’m almost finished here, and we can head home after that.”

“I will. Just come over when you’re done,” she replied, then turned to walk toward the sellers of handcrafted goods and other assorted stuffs. 

As she made her way to the crafts tent, careful to avoid the most concentrated crowds and ignoring overeager vendors as they tried to peddle their wares, she saw a sign for used computer parts that had an arrow pointing toward an alley that ran between two redbrick buildings at the edge of the market. 

In the back of her mind, she could hear Bronson’s voice telling her not to go, but she couldn’t help thinking of her wrecked, mutilated computer setup back home and how much time, effort, and money she’d spent putting it all together.

All of it gone, wasted.

The pain of it made it hard not to want to head over and check out the place.

She took a quick look behind her and saw Bronson still talking to one of the fruit vendors. Maybe she would just take a look down the alley and see how it looked while waiting for Bronson to take her down there.

She took a few steps forward in the direction of the sign and peeked around the corner and down the alley without going into it.

Ten yards or so away, she could see a sign hanging limply on one chain that read “Crazy Eddie’s PC Surplus,” which hung over a staircase that led into a basement.

Hell no.

The alley was lined with trashcans, not all of them upright and one of them with a suspicious hole in the top that looked like someone had set an explosive off inside it. The rank smell of the alley was a stark contrast to the cheery, well-lit bazaar of fresh goods only yards away.

The atmosphere made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and Regan immediately changed her mind about even looking at the computer store.

She’d buy new parts online instead. Crazy Eddie could keep his deals for himself.

She whirled around to head back into the market when she felt her body connect directly with something, or someone, in front of her. She staggered back a pace and looked up to see a large man with short brown hair and menacing grey eyes looking down at her. Though he was nowhere near the size of Bronson, he was large enough to make her feel small.

He shoved her, hard, toward the alley, nearly knocking her off her feet.

She got into a defensive stance, but he was huge. She swung at him, but he easily ducked and threw an arm around her, grasping her tightly.

He stumbled with her deeper into the alley, and when Regan got her breath to let out a scream, she felt a hand cup over her mouth, followed by the unmistakable feeling of cold steel brushing her neck, pressing against her throat. 

“Shh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Unless you want to lose that pretty head of yours,” said the man holding her from behind, his voice colder than the blade on her skin. 

Regan cooperated, trying to get a look at the man but unable to see him at her angle. 

Shit, what have I gotten myself into?

“So did you like my handiwork at your place the other day? My employers hoped you would get the message loud and clear,” he whispered into her ear.

She wanted to ask who had hired him but couldn’t talk. She’d never thought in a million years the stupid revenge porn misogynists would take things this far. After all, internet trolls weren’t known for coming after their targets in person.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to think of her next move as he continued to pull her away from the light pouring from the direction of the farmers’ market and farther into the darkness.

She couldn’t tell from his scent if he was human or shifter, so either he was disguising it or the rank smell of alleyway and trash and mold was doing it for him.

Either way, she’d put up a fight.

“Can’t say I was able to appreciate it, seeing how only a deranged psychopath would do shit like that,” she muttered, wondering if he really would cut her throat if she screamed for help. All she needed was an opening she could use to push him off and make a run for it.

Trouble was she didn’t know if she’d get that opening in time.