Lumberjack Werebear (Saw Bears Book 1) (2 page)

Zero freaking bars, and Brooke was stifling the urge to chuck her cell phone at the wall. Every text she’d sent to Meredith had failed, and now she couldn’t make a call out. Her GPS still seemed to work, so what gave?

With a growl, she snatched an oversized hoodie from her open suitcase on the bed and pulled it on. Before she could change her mind, she threw open the door and shoved the phone as far into the air as her arm would stretch. The smell of steak hit her nostrils and elicited an immediate rumble from her stomach. She hadn’t eaten since lunch, and down the road, the Asheford Drive hermits seemed to be having a jovial bonfire.

Still no bars.

Huffing a sigh, she cast a baleful glare at the mountain men laughing and talking by the fire, shoved her phone in her hoodie pocket, and bounded down the stairs. She was on the side of a mountain, and surely, if she got high enough, she could get a signal.

She clicked on the pen light that hung from her keychain and made her way behind the trailer to a rickety gate that screeched when she opened it.

“What’re you doing?” Tagan asked.

She gasped. He stood leaning against the fence like he’d waited for days for her to try to make an escape.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m going to search for a signal for my cell phone. I need to make a call.”

“To whom?”

“My mentor,” she said. “She made a mistake sending me here, and I need her help to figure out where else I can stay for the rest of my trip. Apparently, you don’t get internet out here in the boonies either.”

“You’re hungry.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

Derailed from her irritation with Meredith, she asked, “What?”

“I can hear your stomach growling from here. Eat first, and then I’ll show you the best place to get reception.”

“I’m not following you out into the woods.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t trust you. I’m not stupid, Tagan. I’ve watched Deliverance.”

A surprised-sounding laugh huffed from his chest, and his face cracked into a grin. In the flickering glow of the fire, one side of his face was washed in orange light that contrasted with the white of his teeth. “You must think mighty low of me, Ms. Belle, but I assure you, I’m no danger to you.”

“You yelled at me earlier.” She didn’t mean to sound like she was pouting. It just came out that way. She was an artist, a sensitive soul, and he’d been a brute during their first meeting.

The smile faded from his face, and he leaned his lower back against the fence. He stared at the fire and the men talking around it. “If I hurt your feelings, I’m sorry. I’m not used to talking to…women.”

Brooke snorted. “Obviously.”

He canted his head and studied her face. “Why are you really here?”

She offered him a sad smile. “Because I lost my way.”

“You mean you got lost on the way up here?”

“No. I mean, I needed a break from my life. I was afraid I’d never be able to find the good parts of myself again if I didn’t take a break from everything I knew.”

He stared at her for a long time, as if he was waiting for her to tell him her life story. No one had heard that tale, though, not even Meredith.

“What happened here?” He brushed her long, blond hair to the side and ran his finger along the bandage on her neck. He didn’t quite touch her skin, but a shiver quaked up her spine and landed in her shoulders.

Tagan frowned and pulled his hand away.

“That is part of the reason I lost my way.” The words were forced and thick in her throat. She tried to swallow down the traitorous tears that would tell him how broken she really was. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I can wait until tomorrow to call Meredith—”

“Meredith?” Tagan stood ramrod straight and squared his shoulders to hers.

She backed up a step as his eyes seemed to turn darker, a trick of the firelight, no doubt, but still terrifying. “My mentor. She was the one who rented your bunkhouse to me.”

He shook his head, as if he didn’t give two figs who her mentor was. “What do you do?”

“Pardon me?”

“For a living? What do you do for money?”

Her mouth dropped open at his audacity. “I’m a painter.”

The smile he gave her failed to reach his eyes, and he nodded his head slowly. “Of course you are.” He scrubbed his hands over his face and sauntered off.

“Wha— You are the rudest man I’ve ever met in my life.” She followed, punching her sneakers into the earth. “So let me get this straight. I’m not allowed to have first impressions about this place, but you can judge me on my occupation? Which is actually a very lucrative career, I’ll have you know.” She yanked his arm and spun him. “I was good once!”

The last word echoed against the mountains, and the men at the fire grew quiet.

The harsh look in Tagan’s eyes softened. His slow grip on her shoulders halted her trembling. When had she started shaking?

“Whatever happened to you, your mentor was wrong. It can’t be fixed here.
You
can’t be fixed here.”

“I know.” Her words came out ragged and defeated. Shame heated her cheeks, and she glanced at the men by the fire, all staring at her.

A tall man with dark hair styled longer on top scooted down a log and patted it. “You, girl. You’ll sit here and eat with us. We’ll feed you.”

The way he spoke was odd, but the kind look in his deep brown eyes had her slipping from Tagan’s grasp and settling in beside the man. “Thank you.”

“I’m Kellen.” He pointed to Connor and Bruiser and said, “You know them. That’s Haydan.”

A man with a shaved head and tattoo on his neck grunted and nodded, and Kellen went to the next around the fire.

“That’s Drew.”

Drew couldn’t seem to meet her eyes, but he attempted to smile before he took another bite of beans.

“Those two over there, Brighton and Denison,” Kellen said, “were born of the same sow.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“He’s my brother,” Denison explained. He looked around the fire and gave a private smile at his plate. “I mean, he’s my blood brother. Two minutes older than me. He don’t talk, though. Never has.”

Brighton studied her frankly, then nodded and grinned.

“Is this everyone who lives in this trailer park?” she asked, curiosity lining up a string of questions in her mind.

“All but one,” Connor said. “Jedidiah is up in Saratoga, fucking his mate.”

The men went silent and still, and a soft rumble came from one of them. It was an eerie sound that lifted the hairs on the back of her neck.

“What do you mean by mate?” Brooke asked softly, suddenly feeling exposed among these strangers.

“He doesn’t mean anything,” Tagan said in a steely voice. He handed her a plate he’d apparently made during introductions and sat on the other side of her, so close she could feel his warmth through the thick material of her hoodie.

The plate in her hands was metal and growing hot under the piping steak, baked potato, and beans. Gently, she set it on her lap and made sure everyone else was eating before she dug in.

“What do you paint?” Kellen asked between bites.

Brooke twisted on her rough seat and tried to judge the distance from where she and Tagan had been talking about her occupation. It should’ve been too far for him to hear, but apparently he had supersonic dog hearing or something.

“I paint mostly fantasy landscapes. The ones that were best received were in a series called The Stars Align.”

“And what did they look like?”

“Uhh, they were set at night, but the forest below the starry sky was done in bright colors. Like the Northern Lights. I paint with extra on my brush and build up the canvas until the surface has texture. Here.” She pulled her phone from her pocket. The signal was still gone, but she could pull up pictures. She scrolled through a few she’d taken of the woods on the way up here for inspiration and handed the phone to Kellen.

Tagan was trying not to look as Kellen showed it around, she could tell, but his eyes landed on the phone the second Kellen angled it in his direction.

“I can draw horses,” Haydan said. “If you ever need to paint one, I can start it for you.”

Her face cracked in a smile, and she dipped her chin. The stretch of her face felt good.

“You have dimples,” Tagan said, so low she almost missed his words.

Self-conscious, she nodded and sawed another piece off her steak. The food tasted amazing. Maybe it was because she was starving, but she was impressed with how good a group of bachelors could cook. “What do you all do?”

“For work?” Denison asked.

“Yeah.”

Drew thumped his chest. “We’re lumberjacks. Men of the ax. Wood cutters. The Paul Bunyons of the—”

“She gets it, Drew,” Denison said, tossing a bean at him.

Brooke giggled at their easy rapport. “I’ve never met lumberjacks before. Honestly, I didn’t realize they existed anymore around here.”

The hint of a smile clung to the corners of Tagan’s mouth as he said, “There weren’t until a few months ago. The sawmill in Saratoga has been shut down for a decade, but the beetle infestation has them up and running again.”

The mention of beetles made her want to lift her shoes off the ground. “Are there a lot of beetles still around here?”

“Hell, yeah. They’re nearly impossible to kill off,” Haydan said. “I can draw beetles, too.”

“Shut up, man,” Drew said, shoving his shoulder.

“The beetles have killed off a lot of this forest and left hundreds of thousands of dead trees,” Tagan said. “They’ve dried and created the perfect tinder for wild fires. The mill in Saratoga is equipped to treat the beetle eaten wood, but they needed a few crews to come in and help clear the land. New growth has been slow. Because the woods were so thick, sunlight couldn’t get to the pinecones beneath the thick branches. Once we come through and take out the dead trees, the forest will come back. Plus, we’re re-planting as we go along. Takes a lot of time, but it’ll be worth it to see this place green again.”

“So, you aren’t the only crew on this mountain?”

“On this mountain, yes,” Kellen said. “We are the Ashe crew. The Gray Backs are over a ridge but still close enough to be a pain in our asses. The Boarlanders do the cutting for both crews. The man who hired us owns this land. Hundreds of thousands of acres need to be cleared, and each log is money in our pockets. The more timber we clear, the closer the crews get to each other.”

“So, you have lumberjack battles?” She held back a laugh, imagining plaid-shirted, burly men yelling about territory disputes.

“Princess, you wouldn’t want to be within a mile of one when it goes down,” Connor said ominously.

She hated the way he called her that. She narrowed her eyes at him, then bent to the task of eating the rest of her meal before it cooled.

The rumbling noise sounded again, and when she looked up at Tagan, he was glaring at Connor. Stifling a gasp, she reached out before she could change her mind and pressed the palm of her hand against his rattling chest.

A second of deep vibration shook her hand before he grabbed her palm. The noise stopped, and Tagan looked at her with wide eyes. Confusion swam in the depths there, and he dropped his gaze to her palm. For an instant, she thought he would kiss it.

“What are you doing to me?” he asked, his tone soft but accusing.

“I said I saw her first,” Connor gritted out, dropping his plate beside his feet and standing. “I won’t fuckin’ say it again.”

Tagan stood so fast, he blurred.

“All right, dinner’s through,” Kellen said, dragging her backward off the log. When had the behemoth even stood up?

“I challenge you for her,” Connor snarled, circling the fire. “And I challenge you for Second.”

“Shit,” Kellen muttered, hustling her away faster.

“Wait, what are they doing?” She tried to escape his grasp, but damn, Kellen was surprisingly strong.

“Nothing you need to worry about, and nothing that’s gonna happen tonight, anyway. Challenges can’t be done without Jed here.”

He could’ve been talking in French. She didn’t understand any of this. “Wait! My plate. I forgot to leave my plate.”

“I’ll take it back.” Kellen had already managed to drag her past three trailers, and she was having trouble seeing Tagan and Connor in the middle of the men who seemed to be trying to pull them apart.

She didn’t belong to anyone, and some archaic fight sure as sugar wasn’t going to ensure that she picked either one of them. “I don’t understand.”

Kellen spun her shoulders and leveled her a look. “I want you to stay. I like you, and we never have soft things around here. I want us to take care of you and fix your paintings, but you don’t want Connor. You don’t. And Tagan isn’t ready for a mate. Best you leave at first light in the morning.”

“Okay,” she said, her voice wrenching up an octave. Kellen was telling her something important. The desperate look in his eyes said so, but his words were jumbled.
Mate
? “I’ll leave.” She’d been planning on it, anyway.