Liam's Bride: BBW Werebear Romance (Clan Conroy Brides Book 1) (2 page)

"What do they feed them?" Brick asked, staring after the three tall,
wide
men as they left the kitchen. 

The one whose hand had enveloped Meredith’s in an inescapable grip, night sky eyes fixed on her with the pitiless intensity of a carnivorous predator, made her nervous. She'd lost her breath for just a moment, a tingling low in her stomach when he inhaled, nostrils flaring and broad chest widening. She knew about werebears. And she knew Liam was Alpha of the local Den- the collection of closely related families that were a part of a bigger Clan. She'd made it her business to know after- Meredith pulled her mind away from her old guilt.

"They're born big," she said.

Brick glanced at her, alerted by the short tone. "You don't like them cause they’re Bears, or cause that’s the guy taking the building away from us?"

Meredith frowned. "How did you…?"

The girl snorted. "I have ears."

Sighing, Meredith made another ice baggy to swap when the first melted. The man wasn’t what she’d expected. She’d read every newspaper article mentioning him for years, before graduate school and the program forced her to get a life. In her mind the picture of some dismissive executive had formed. Instead, a new age Henry Cavill type in a banded collar shirt, expertly frayed cargoes and leather sandals greeted her, staring at her as if she was lunch. Weren’t new agers supposed to be happy pacifists? This male was too… dominant for pacifism, consistent with his Alpha status. The other men would be aggressive, but an Alpha- they were both protective and aggressive and unusually territorial.

"Well, I'll have a talk with him and see if we can stay here."

"I'll do reconnaissance. Don't go in blind."

"Uhh... thanks, but I think I can handle it."

Brick said nothing. Now Meredith had something else to worry about, a teenager already prone to trouble playing detective.

She pressed a hand to her stomach. It still hadn’t settled, her mind forcing the image of the dark man behind her eyes, taunting her. Because for the first time in a while, she was attracted to a man. Attracted and afraid, years of her father's teachings she'd worked hard to reverse strumming her nerves. Wonderful. So when she spoke to him again- and from his abrupt withdrawal, she felt convincing him to let her teens stay in the building wouldn’t be easy- she'd have to fight nerves, attraction and her instinctive fear of werebears in order to speak coherently. Best thing she could do was start practicing now.

CHAPTER

2

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Brick asked. She tugged at the giant pocket on her black cargo skirt. At least it was a skirt.

"It's a great idea," Meredith replied, shoulders squaring as they entered the restaurant.

A blast of cool air and the subtle tinkle of a flute greeted her. Clean, modern decor and people in various styles of dress from business casual to date night sat at dark wood tables bare of linen. Exposed brick studded with bouquets of drying herbs and abstract artwork added to the ambiance.

"Good evening." The hostess greeted them with a smile. Instead of black she wore a loose dress of pale green linen, asymmetrical at the hem to expose wide legged taupe pants and rope sandals. Meredith noticed the mostly female servers dressed similarly, suiting the theme of the restaurant- fresh produce, locally sourced meats, seasonal cuisine. And no menu. Diners ate what the chef presented. And the chef was notorious for presenting interesting things. Meredith knew because when she'd Googled the new owner of the YWCA, Liam Conroy, his whole history as a trained chef and restaurateur flooded the results.

She'd cursed herself, wondering why she hadn't recognized him and his name beforehand. A
Conroy
, the werebear family whose past intimately entangled with the ragged remains of her own family. She'd almost given up right then- but he couldn't know who she was, not with her common last name, if he’d even bothered to look at her paperwork. And there were the kids who depended on her to keep the program alive- it was the only safe place some of them had to go.

"We have a reservation," Meredith informed the hostess.

"Of course. Please follow me."

They sat at a small two person table in front of the main window, giving them a charming view of early evening foot traffic as well as the patrons of the restaurant. A server brought wine and freshly squeezed juice for Brick, and soon an amuse-bouche was placed in front of them; a tiny squash blossom stuffed with a decadently creamy filling of savory cheese and mushroom, lightly fried.

"So how are you going to get his attention?" Brick asked when they were on their first course, a gazpacho with southwestern flavors and slivers of bright avocado on top.

Meredith smiled grimly, enjoying the soup. "I'm going to send back a dish." Which from the various blogs and Yelp reviews was certain to gain her an in person response.

"He's kinda an ass for not returning your appointment request. Are you sure you don't want to just skip out on the bill?"

Meredith leveled the teen with a
look.
Brick grinned, unrepentant.

"How is the new placement going?" Meredith asked, changing the subject. Since she'd known Rebekah, the girl had been in two different foster homes. The first time, the family moved out of state and the second time the mother had her fourth baby and decided Brick's purpose in life was to be used as free child care. While Meredith sympathized with trying to handle four children and a foster teen all at once- Brick wasn't supposed to be a live-in nanny.

The girl's expression darkened, closing down in a snap. "It's going."

Alarm bells jingled. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked gently.

"No."

"Alright. You know you can if you ever need to." She changed the subject, heading off gathering clouds. Building trust required patience. "We should take pictures of the food- the others will want to see."

The meal was delicious, but during the final course Meredith steeled her spine, waving over the server.

"I'm sorry, can you return this dessert to the kitchen?"

The server looked nonplussed. "Of course. May I ask..."

Meredith plowed ahead, raising her chin. "The berries are bland, the whipped cream watery and the sponge sickly sweet. It's just not to my taste."

The server's eyes darted towards the kitchen. "Of course. I'll... let Chef know."

That was what she was counting on.

"She said
what?
" Liam ignored the server’s flinch, slapping a towel on the counter. "Take the pass," he snapped at his sister, also his sous chef.

"Don't kill the customers," Norelle murmured, flipping her fish as he stalked into the dining room.

Damned if he'd let the swine who insulted his food live. Bland? Watery?
Sickly?
It was untenable.

The server scuttled along half way to the table and then changed her mind, abandoning Liam's warpath before he placed himself in front of.... he recognized the flame red hair of the woman with her back to him before he recognized the black lipped and heavily lined eyes of the teenager staring at him sideways. The same teen he'd seen in his building a week ago.

Meredith- he hadn't forgotten her name- turned her head, and he forgot about the teenager.

"Chef."

He stared down at her, controlling a desire to march back into the kitchen and personally make her a new dessert- it would piss off the pastry chef- struggling to hold onto his legendary temper. Her husky tone and uncertain but brave eyes guttered his artists’ indignation.

"You didn’t enjoy the dish?" he asked, voice pitched for her ears alone.

He observed the tinge of pink along her cheeks with interest. When was the last time he’d seen a female over the age of thirteen blush? She cleared her throat as his eyes traveled down the pale column to her chest, clad in another drapey thingy, this time a soft peach that brought out the rose tone of her skin. Short, pearlescent nails tapped the water glass at her plate, then stilled.

"No, the dessert was lovely."

Liam's brows drew together. "Then-"

"I wanted to talk to you. You've been avoiding my appointment request."

Mossy eyes speared him, wide and clear, demanding an answer.

Liam folded his arms. "I've been busy." He cut himself off, scowling. Was he really giving her an explanation? He didn't have to give her an explanation.

She lowered her eyes. The hand fiddling with the wineglass curled into a ball. She placed it in her lap, a vulnerable gesture.

"I haven't been avoiding you," he said, sighing, arms unfolding. He would have met temper for temper, but this quiet, hesitant dignity undid him. A brash woman he would have dismissed instantly. "Why don't we talk now?"

She looked up quickly, eyes widening as he gestured. The hostess brought him a chair, plucking it from one of the few empty tables. He turned it around with a nod of thanks, folding his arms across the back.

"Now." He gave her his full attention. "Here I am. Talk."

Her lips rubbed together. He forced his face to remain neutral, masking his reaction. He wondered how her face would look flushed with passion, green eyes glittering with the fire of jewels as she moaned beneath him. If she were his, he'd drape her neck in ropes of polished jade and amber beads. Long ropes nestled between the valley of her breasts- Liam jerked his mind away from the image, thighs bunching as his body approved his thoughts. Thankful he wore his chef's coat loose rather than fitted.

He inhaled, filling his lungs with the scent he remembered, this time overlaid with the familiar aromas of his food and kitchen. The combination stirred something inside him deeper than the mere physical. She felt both exotic and familiar- as if she belonged. To him, to his home.

"I'd like you to consider renewing our lease," she said. Her voice started with the faintest tremble, then steadied. He approved of her courage. It wasn't easy facing down a Bear, and especially not an Alpha. Though human, she would still be subconsciously affected by his dominance and have a hard time making demands of him. She wouldn't quite understand why- but if she were weak she would agree to anything he asked if he weren't careful.

"You're aware I'm converting the building into a culinary school with a television studio?" he asked. She nodded. "Our plans require every bit of space there is."

"I understand, but I think Teens and Greens offers value to what you're trying to do."

"Oh?" His raised brow invited explanation.

She tucked loose hair behind her ear. His eyes followed the gesture, wanting to wrap the strand around his hand, use it as a rope to bind her to him for a kiss. "We teach teenagers urban gardening. Your restaurant sources its ingredients from local farmers. What if your school included a teaching garden as well? I'm a licensed instructor- I'd be happy to provide instruction and space for your students to grow their own herbs."

The idea interested him. Though he hadn't initially considered it, focused on the culinary side of his business, it made sense. He said nothing though, waiting.

She hurried to fill the silence. "And of course, my services would be offered as part of the lease. It wouldn't be any bother to include additional students. It's more help to keep the garden. And I was considering expanding to a nearby lot as well next year. It would be good publicity for your school."

Hmm. The kind of feel good hometown publicity that would get him in the newspaper. Maybe even a television special he could pitch to a big name network along with what he already had planned.

Liam stood. "I’ll think about it and contact you."

Her chin lifted. "Soon. If the answer is no then I'll have to make other plans." Her voice trembled on the word 'no.' He wondered what her other plans would be if his response wasn’t to her liking.

"I’ll contact you."

“I have something to say,” the teenager interjected. He met her eyes. A less secure adult might meet the challenge in her face with aggression. Even now Meredith was waving at the girl to hush, forehead furrowed.

He lifted a hand, taking his seat. One didn’t injure a child covered in bruises to teach a lesson. “It’s alright. Go ahead, daughter.”

Meredith opened her mouth, then subsided, stifling a sigh. “Go ahead, Brick.”

“The garden is important.”

He waited for the girl to gather her thoughts. She held up under his regard- impressive.

“Some of us don’t have any… cool places to hang out. And we can take the vegetables to our families, and it helps out sometimes. I don’t think it’s fair to take it away because you want to be rich and teach rich people to make useless food.”

Liam waited a beat. “Are you finished?” He understood the sentiment, though her worldview required adjustment if she considered culinary students ‘rich people’, but she needed to be taught to communicate without anger.

She nodded, a jerk of the head, and he rose again, staring down at her gravely.

“Thank you for your insight,” he said. “Please believe me, I’ll consider everything that’s been asked of me. I won’t make a hasty decision. Okay?”

The women nodded, and he could sense some of the tension leave the girl. He turned to go when she said, “The food was good. I haven’t had anything like it before.”

Liam paused, turned back, then held out his hand. She shook it, surprised.

“That, young lady, is a wonderful compliment. Bring a friend by for lunch one day- on me.”

The girl grinned. “Cool, man. I mean, Chef. Thanks.”

He inclined his head, meeting Meredith’s wide, glimmering eyes. She held herself still, looking down as soon as realization they were staring lit her eyes. Liam left them, forcing himself to turn and walk away. Something in him wanted to remain in her presence, wanted to reassure her that she would have her lease and her garden and whatever else she needed to make her program a success. His desire to please her puzzled and disturbed him. She was human, and he was reacting as if- Liam cut the thought off. The best thing he could do was clear his nostrils with the aromas of cooking food.

But it took a long time.