Cougar's Gift: Pacific Northwest Cougars: (Shifter Romance) (2 page)

T
hank fuck he was back
.

Stryker gave a moment to appreciate the sign flying by him saying “Welcome to Port May”. This wasn’t home for him, just a quiet stop on the road, but at least it wasn’t the scorching weather of Las Vegas.

His original plan was for a short stop over here then to continue on his journey. Then he’d spent a number of weeks in town and had gotten to know a few people. He found a job in a local mechanic’s shop for some spending money and settled in.

He didn’t need it, the money that is. His trust fund was sitting pretty in his bank account. Stryker usually didn’t use it unless he had to. Being a Hayes and having access to near unlimited funds was never his thing. His family owned a large winery in California with his parents and siblings all in the business.

They were cougar shifters and Stryker’s big brother was the Alpha of their small pack. Shifters lived longer than humans so building up businesses and being successful at them went hand in hand. They had years to work out the kinks, so to speak.

Stryker didn’t give a flying fuck about wine he preferred beer. His parents loved the shit. Talked about it, analyzed it, they lived it.

His oldest brother Dax was all about wine too. He recently moved off to Washington not long after their sister relocated. Both had found their mates. They were settling in and starting their lives and their families. They were crazy content. Stryker didn’t get it.

He had the same urges to find his One. His cougar was tough, aggressive and always wanting to hunt. But the odds of finding his mate he figured were slim. And he knew shifters that spent decade after decade waiting for some mythical bolt of lightning. His cat and he had other things to focus on.

Life could be shockingly simple if you let it. Food in your stomach, work to keep you busy, and the wind in your hair while on your bike. His cat liked their life and so did Stryker, they spent a lot of time shifted when they were on the road. Stops in secluded mountain areas kept his animal calm, or as calm as he was ever going to get.

Stryker wasn’t a big talker. Words could always be taken the wrong way with confusion and anger over the slightest twist of a phrase. He sometimes wished people could just read his mind. His feelings were clear but he didn’t always know how to express himself. He didn’t want anyone to misunderstand what he was saying, so he rarely talked.

As a child he used his twin brother Everett to communicate. His parents were worried that he was delayed in some way. He wasn’t. He just didn’t see the reason to talk to anyone when his brother was usually on board with what they needed.

Everett and he weren’t identical though they looked enough alike as children that their mother still dressed them in twin outfits. In a way, Everett was the brains and he was the muscle.

His mom, Lilibeth, loved that she had twins. She was hoping they’d bear the Hayes blondness which she coveted for some reason, but alas, she got brunettes.

She was also batshit crazy. Stryker thought she was funny as hell. She grated on everyone’s nerves and he liked to just sit back and watch people squirm when interacting with her. She’d given up long ago on him realizing around the age of six that he was never going to toe the line. His other siblings were easier for her to torment.

Stryker knew his cougar wanted a mate. He wanted his One, his true love, whatever that meant. It wasn’t like they didn’t get laid and often. Stryker didn’t even have to try.

Women would approach him in bar offer themselves up and he’d nod. That was often the extent of their transaction. He bet some of them didn’t even realize he never gave them his name. He was a talker during sex, but outside of that he rarely saw the point.

Now he was on an extended tour. He had no destination, no plans or points of interest to see. He’d just gotten on his bike after Dax left and rode.

He stopped in Washington to visit his sister Kenzi and her new mate, and his brand new nephew. He wanted to check out this bear shifter that had caused his sister so much trouble. He’d thrown him a solid punch to the nose to show his displeasure. The damage healed within a few minutes, but he still got his point across.

He’d turned his motorcycle around and headed back into Oregon. Stopping on the outskirts of a little town called Port May. He’d run across a motorcycle club of wolf shifters that were passing through also. They’d managed to keep it civil. They even told him that Port May was a bike friendly town to stop in. He was grateful, he needed some down time.

His first stop was at the post office. Little towns like that often had bulletin boards there. Someone was renting out a hunting cabin in the woods for a reasonable price. He made the call and had an unlimited stay booked.

His next stop was the mechanic in town to see if he had any work for him. Stryker liked to keep busy and machines were the only thing he enjoyed talking to. The local mechanic, Bud, was happy to have some help.

That’s where he’d stayed week after week. His little brother Everett called to say he’d found his mate and Stryker felt a hit to his heart he wasn’t expecting. It took him by surprise.

Everett and he had been together from the womb. Even miles apart he still felt him. Stryker’s cougar would nudge him that they needed to see Everett if they’d been away too long.

Now his brother had a new person in his life. He sounded happy and settled. Stryker was thrilled once he pondered it for a bit. He had three new family members. His sister Kenzi’s new son King, Dax’s mate Effie, and now Everett’s mate Layla.

Their pack was growing and Stryker felt protective, but with them spread all over the western United States, his cat was unhappy they weren’t together.

When his brother called to say he was getting married again, even though they’d already married in Vegas in a chapel, he packed up his bike and drove to Nevada.

After the ceremony and pack meet-ups between the two shifter groups, he headed back to California to check in with his parents and the winery. He made sure everything was running smoothly, and nothing needed his attention. Then he hopped back on his bike and headed north again.

Now he was back and he almost felt like he was home. Odd, this quiet little town seemed to suit him. He drove straight to his cabin on the outskirts of town. Pulling up, he took a breath and noted that no one had been around since he left. Just the normal animals that would pass by.

It wasn’t so much a cabin as a prefab building set about five miles from the main road coming into town. It was a simple one-bedroom one-bath set up, but it did have a fireplace. The outside was painted a barn red color. It had a small porch on the front and one on the back.

Simple and rustic just like he liked it. He dumped off his gear, went outside and stripped down to let his cougar run off the long bike ride.

Stryker gave the okay to his cat and he felt the shift pour over him. His shift was usually an easy one, a shimmer of color and energy then he was happily in his fur.

There was plenty of wooded space in rural Oregon to run. He would even run into wild cougars out near the river. They gave him a wide berth. But no one was surprised to see a big cat in the woods, even if they were off trail hiking.

He ran himself to exhaustion and let his cougar hunt down a rabbit for the hell of it. Sometimes his cat wanted bigger game. They’d track a large deer and take it down. An animal that size was too big for one meal so his cougar would bury it for later.

He knew a lot of shifters that kept their animals from going too feral. Stryker’s cougar was just being himself and he never wanted to restrict him from living how he needed.

Coming back down the mountain side, he sniffed and noted he was still alone. Shifting back into his human skin always felt a little foreign to him. Stryker liked being in his fur, no one expected you to talk when you were a two hundred pound mountain lion.

Walking naked to the back door he went inside, showered and changed to hit the local stores for supplies.

He ran by the repair shop and gave Bud the heads up that he was back. Then stopped by the mom and pop grocery to pick up something for dinner. He shopped often due to his ability to only carry what would fit in the saddle bags on his bike.

Walking out of the store he glanced around the street, saw a few locals giving him the hairy eyeball until they recognized him. He gave them a chin lift of acknowledgment. This was returned enthusiastically by some with a wild waving and smiling. Small town folks, he thought.

His eyes scanned over the library. There were only a few multi-story buildings on Main Street so his eye zeroed in on a figure in the second-floor window.

It was a woman dressed in white. She was standing still, staring at him. He could see her but not make out her features even with his excellent eyesight. He blinked and she was gone. Weird. There was never a shortage of weirdoes in these towns.

Securing his bags, he drove home wondering about the woman in white.

H
e was back
, she saw him. No way could it be anyone else. It was him loading his motorcycle from Edna’s Sundries, the only place to buy regular groceries outside the farmers market, which made it an excellent hot guy spotting location. Plus, she could see the store from her windows on the second floor of the library.

He was wearing his usual blue jeans, white shirt and black motorcycle jacket. His hair was slicked back and he had on a pair of mirror finish aviator glasses. When the glasses turned her direction she froze.

Was he staring at her? There wasn’t anything else interesting to look at on her building. Then she realized she wasn’t even crouching for pete’s sake! No, she was standing like a mannequin in the window. The minute she realized he was watching her she dove to the floor.

Glancing up from her prone position her gaze connected with Mr. Maynard’s, who was looking for the most recent C
omputers for Seniors
, she just smiled at him and gave a little wave.

She commando crawled further away from the window before getting to her knees then standing. Smoothing down her patchwork skirt and white tank top, she went about pretending she didn’t just dive to the floor like she was avoiding a sniper and made her way downstairs.

Her hero hadn’t left. Gawd, she shouldn’t think of him like that. It wasn’t healthy. But you spend so much time fantasizing about someone they become like a person you think you actually know. Or think you know.

Calmly walking towards the stairs she made her way down to her desk attempting to calm her breathing. Just the sight of him had her nipples pebbling under her shirt.

“Get it together, Libby,” she muttered to herself.

She had a few more hours until she went home. Right now she needed to focus and finish work. She could fantasize about his return after work.

Her mother was making meatloaf. Not that it would contain any meat. It usually consisted of bulgur, oatmeal and a healthy dose of wheat gluten. It was shaped like a meatloaf but it did not taste like a meatloaf.

Which meant if Libby wanted to avoid having to rely on her mother’s cooking for sustenance, she needed to hit up Edna’s. She learned to sweet talk her way into Edna letting her microwave some mac-n-cheese before heading home. She’d snarf it down as she walked and then dispose of the evidence in their neighbor’s recycling bin.

Her deal with Mr. Parker and his trash cans only cost her reserving the latest science magazine for him to view first when it came into the library.

She just needed to wait for Mr. Maynard to finish then she could close up. She knew
he
was gone because she’d heard the roar of his motorcycle when she was still lying on the floor. The urge to sneak a peek out the window was still strong.

Mr. Maynard walked past her and smiled. She gave him a little wave and rushed after him to close and lock the front door. She grabbed her purse from behind the counter and made a beeline for the back door. Her quick trip to the store garnered her the secret pre-dinner snack.

She couldn’t help but look around as she walked hoping to catch a glimpse of him. Libby wasn’t even sure she would be able to talk to him if she ran into him. What would she say? Read any good books lately?

Ack, no, that was probably not going to get her the inside scoop on her mystery man.

Her stop at Edna’s had her munching cheesy goodness on the way home. Evidence disposed of, she braced herself then opened the back door to her house.

The smell of cooking oatmeal mixed with the drying herbs that her mother had pegged all over the ceiling beams of their old farm house was a familiar odor. Her mom’s favorite incense was burning covering everything in a sickeningly sweet coating of spice.

“Liberty! You’re home. Dinner is almost ready. Your father is on his way. Do you want mashed parsnips or honey glazed beets for dinner?” her mother asked.

She was standing at the stove in a frilly pink apron covering a cotton shift she’d made herself, her wild hair tied up in a crazy knot on top of her head. Stray pieces were falling over her brow, there were smudges of something on her cheeks. Probably flour of some sort.

“I’m sure whatever you choose will be great, mom.” She gave her a peck on the cheek as she passed and went to her room. Libby hadn’t thought about moving out. To be honest she didn’t think her parents were ready for her to leave.

Yes, she had already gone to college and lived away from them. But for as smart as they were they needed adult supervision. She often felt like that was her burden to bear.

Her room on the third floor was in a corner turret of the old house. She loved her room, it was painted a lemon yellow, with hardwood floors that gleamed with wax. Her bed had an antique white bedspread and about a dozen throw pillows piled on top. Her nightstands had matching brass swan lamps that she adored.

When she was young she imagined it was her very own tower in a castle. On sunny afternoons with the window open she would pretend to let down her hair, or the largest length of her mother’s yarn out the window, to see if her prince would climb it.

Her childhood dollhouse still stood in the corner of her room. It was her grandmother’s made by her great-grandfather. It was a treasured heirloom so she didn’t count it as a toy. As she’d grown her posters were replaced with her favorite art prints. Where the toys used to occupy space now sat her bookcases. She would get them from around town, freebies or cast offs that she would paint a bright color.

Replaced were the children’s books and art projects and now they contained an epic romance collection. All her favorite authors represented in hardcover or paperback. Her e-reader was stuffed to the gills also, but there was something about turning the pages of a much-loved book.

Taking a moment to herself, she curled into the rattan chair that held a fat green cushion. It faced out the window overlooking the patch of garden between their house and the neighbors.

It was the end of summer before the leaves started to change. It never got too hot, it was one of the joys of living in the Pacific Northwest. Libby loved it here, she loved being so close to the mountains and just a drive away from the ocean, or in a pinch the Columbia river.

This little nook was her favorite spot to daydream. As a child her teachers would reprimand her for staring out the windows during class. Thinking of the stories she’d read and replaying her favorite parts over in her mind.

Now her daydreams were of a much more adult theme. And mystery man was one she hadn’t gotten bored with. She would imagine going out with him on a date. Riding on the back of his motorcycle. Laughing and talking with him about, well that part was never clear. And always her thoughts would turn to imagining what it would be like for him to touch her and kiss her and make love to her.

Gawd, she didn’t have time to delve into that fantasy. Dinner would be ready soon. But after dinner, alone in her room, she’d make good use of her knight in chrome armor’s return.