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Bear Bride: BBW Bear Shifter Romance

(Bear Cove Series Book 1)

By Shelley Shifter

Chapter 1

Keyla

Ironically, the morning of what would be the worst day in Keyla’s life was also the first morning it really felt like spring. The sun had just started spilling over the mountain ridges like molten lava, but it was already warm and a balmy breeze carried white petals and floral scents from the blooming gardens around the small town of Bear Cove.

Keyla didn’t notice. She had been up for hours already and not because she was an early bird. She just couldn’t stand tossing and turning in her narrow bed any longer, her mind plagued by images she couldn’t stop. She knew this day was coming, but knowledge itself didn’t stop the numbing pain that twisted her stomach and covered her palms in anxious sweat. She sat on the wooden swing on the back porch, facing the nearby hills, snuggled under a thick wool blanket, cradling a steaming cup of fresh coffee. This was her favorite spot. She had spent countless hours here engrossed in a novel, savoring the fresh pastry aunt Cynthia had just taken out of the oven or simply daydreaming, her gaze lost in the deep greens of the pine trees lining the horizon.

She was blind to the awakening beauty around her, the birds’ melodic chirps, the intoxicating scents of the spring woods that were only a few feet away. She sighed deeply.

“Keyla, honey,” Aunt Cynthia’s voice announced her arrival as she kicked the screen door with her foot, while balancing a tray with more coffee and freshly baked rich cream scones with blueberry jam that she knew were her niece’s favorites. Keyla didn’t look up. She kept staring at the far distance, her eyes welling up and a single clear tear breaking off and rolling down her rosy cheek. Cynthia left the tray on the small wooden fold-up table and sat down next to Keyla, putting her arms around the girl’s knees and looking up at her, an expression of genuine compassion contorting her features.

“Come on now,” Cynthia started in a soothing voice, “no need to ruin the gorgeous day. It is what it is. No one expected this and you should certainly
not
blame yourself. I know it’s hard, just think that every single woman in the world has gone through the same heartache at least once in her life. Shh. I brought you some scones.”

Keyla covered her face with her hands and started weeping quietly. Her shoulders heaved with the painful memories and hurt feelings she had been harboring for weeks now, pretending everything was okay.

“I can’t even breathe, Aunt Cynthia, it hurts
so
much,” she managed to say in a slow, dragging voice. “It looks like all life has in store for me now is endless days of the same old routine, pain and disappointment.”

“Hey,” Cynthia suddenly shook her shoulders tenderly, “listen to me. You can’t give in to this. Troy is not the only man in the world and if he has chosen another, he is most definitely not the right one for you. I don’t want to see you shed another tear for someone who doesn’t deserve you even thinking about him! Come now, let’s get inside and get started on this cake. I’ll understand if you don’t feel like helping today. Just say the word.”

“No, no, I’ll be there in a minute, I just need a bit more time out here,” Kayla said, trying to sound casual. “And Aunt Cynthia?”

“What is it honey?” The woman turned around as she was walking back inside the bakery.

“Thank you for the scones!” Keyla produced a cheeky grin, her face still streaked with tears. Certainly the best way to fight misery and complete desolation was with a crispy, buttery cream scone that melted in her mouth, the sweetness enveloping her taste buds and waking up the pleasure centers in her brain, making everything seem at least slightly more bearable. Keyla closed her eyes and simply chewed, trying to free her tortured mind of the incessant loop of self-pity and anger that flooded it in waves.

It was Troy’s wedding day today. And she was not the bride. There was nothing to hope for anymore. There would be no conversation that would clear things up, no change of mind, no happy ending for her. He had been the love of her life and was still the only man that made her heart beat violently in her chest, her blood boil and her knees buckle, and yet she could never have him after today.

They had met in high school and she had been captivated by his menacing height, chiseled jawline and strong, muscular arms, his deep low voice and his flashing, light blue eyes that changed color with his moods unlike those of any other person she had ever met. Above all, she treasured his broodiness, his mysterious aloofness, his melancholic gaze. He was a real introvert, always carried away in one of his books or carving a figurine out of wood bark, lost in thought. He was nothing like the other boys of Bear Cove, who were loud and obnoxious and incredibly childish, their interests only spanning sex, beer and pranks.

They had only been out a few times and she had already recognized herself in him. Dizzy with happiness in those couple of weeks, Keyla had started to believe, even for a while, that she too deserved happiness, that she was just as beautiful and interesting and special as the rest of the girls in Bear Cove High with their slim thighs and their straight blond hair, their skinny jeans and heavy eye-liner and shallow conversations. In fact, she had been scared to overanalyze why he had chosen her among the others for fear of ruining the fairy tale. With her luscious curves, healthy appetite and long, wavy chestnut hair, she had always felt different or sometimes inferior until Troy had come along to shower her with his unwavering fascination as if she was the only girl he had eyes for.

Her fairytale
was
indeed ruined just days after graduation when Troy had suddenly disappeared, leaving her scared and longing and questioning, until the answer came to break her heart. He was engaged. To a beautiful blond classmate of theirs. Corin. It didn’t even make fucking sense!

Keyla scooted down from the swing and entered the bakery’s back kitchen. Through the open door at the far end of the room, she could see the front parlor, still gloomy in the morning dusk. The sun hadn’t climbed high enough yet to bathe it in the spring light that would make everything glow in soft pastel colors like a doll’s house or a spun sugar fairytale. She loved the bakery. It was the one thing she could pour her energy into and forget for a moment her miserable ordeal. She loved the morning hours when she and Cynthia would bring out the trays of freshly baked, frosted cupcakes and display them in the two-tier porcelain cake stands at the window, the divine smell of mountain herb tea in the cups of the early visitors, the smooth curves of the wooden tables and chairs, the clink of sparkling silverware, the huge glass jars of pink, creamy macaroons displayed at the counter. It was too early for that.

The back kitchen, however, already burst with activity. Cynthia had created a small heaven of warmth and coziness and was humming along to the soft country tune that came from a small radio on the shelf above the sink. The fireplace crackled with a playful fire that sent out a mild pine scent, which enveloped the small room. It was mixed with the delicious blend of caramel, cinnamon and vanilla that floated in the air and Keyla closed her eyes to breathe in the soothing aromas. Yes, she could forget about Troy here. She would dive into the little morning rituals and routines of the bakery and stop thinking about him, at least for a little while.

She rolled up her sleeves and grabbed a big bowl, settling next to Cynthia on the big table in the middle of the kitchen. Her aunt was just sprinkling some flour over the compact ball of cake dough and started to knead it vigorously once again. Cynthia’s hands were magical when it came to producing the finest velvet cakes, the crispiest breads and buns, the crunchiest short crust tarts, and Keyla hoped one day to at least be able to come close to her expertise.

She scooped up a large glob of butter from a small bucket, scraped it off into the bowl and started stirring it with a long wooden spoon to soften it. Her task was to make the frosting for the cake. His
wedding
cake. But no, she wouldn’t think about it. She would simply stir the butter and then move on to the next step in the recipe. Working, creating something with her hands was the only cure she knew.

“So,” Aunt Cynthia started tentatively, “are you sure you don’t want me to drive up there and deliver the cake?”

Keyla was startled out of her daze, mindlessly licking the ready fluffy frosting off her index finger. She had been contemplating whether to spit in the pink, sugary pile as the smallest act of helpless revenge she could come up with. Instead, she quickly wiped her hand in the red-and-white checked apron she was wearing and grabbed the bowl to take it to the prep counter. What she wanted was to turn around as quickly as possible, so her aunt wouldn’t spot her burning red cheeks.

“No, no, I’ll do it,” she said trying to sound nonchalant. “Really, Aunt Cynthia, it’s no big deal. I’ll have to face him
sometime
. And today is as good as any.”

“You stupid little girl,” said Cynthia and went over to take her niece’s hands. “This is easily the
worst
possible time to see him. You are not thinking this through. You cry at every wedding, even when you’ve never seen the bride or the groom in your entire life. What makes you think this would be easy for you? Or… Well, don’t tell me you are up to something.”

Cynthia studied Keyla’s lowered eyes. She knew her niece well. She was the type of girl that wouldn’t take bullshit from anyone. She was warm and generous and caring… until she got stepped on, which fired her up. Cynthia suspected that, in part, Keyla suffered from losing Troy so long after it actually happened mainly because she didn’t have an explanation, she had been left hanging with nothing or no one to blame and no chance to talk things through or get any sort of closure. He had simply stopped calling, stopped visiting the bakery, stopped coming into town with his family altogether. Naturally, Keyla had started questioning and blaming herself, convinced she was the reason he had retreated into the Snow Crest Camp where his whole family lived and worked. When the final blow came with the news about his wedding, Keyla had completely broken down, spending days on end curled up in her bed, looking out at the hills with a glazed stare and crying herself to sleep.

“I’m not up to anything, I swear,” Keyla said finally, “I just think it would be easier for me to move on if I just see that he is happy with
her
. I keep turning this in my head, and, to be honest, I can’t even picture them together. She is so
not
what I thought his type was.”

“You are starting again,” Cynthia sighed and started picking small jars of chocolate sprinkles and almond shavings from a shelf and lining them up on the table. “Just let it go, sweetheart. Men make irrational decisions all the time. You should not, even for a second, compare yourself to her and think you are any less gorgeous or intelligent, just because some boy chose another.”

“But she is not just
another
! She’s the complete opposite of me!” Keyla took a deep breath to calm herself down. “It all makes me think he was never even interested in me in the first place…
Married
, for God’s sake! It’s not like he’s just taking her out for coffee.”

“I think I should take the cake up there, you rest and try to distract yourself a bit today, call Amy, see a movie or something.”

“No,” Keyla said with a determination quite characteristic of her in such moments, “I’ve made up my mind. I’m going. It may be my only chance to see him.”

Chapter 2

Troy

Troy peeked out of his log cabin’s window at the small grassy yard surrounded by the rest of the cabins in Snow Crest Camp. The preparations for the wedding were in full swing. Girls were tying up bunches of freshly picked flowers and blooming twigs to the wooden benches, the green gauze ribbons flapping in the warm morning breeze, while boys were setting up an intricate arch of pine branches, twisting and yielding the deep-green, soft needle stems and securing them with twine. Women were efficiently setting up a long table with a crisp, white tablecloth, vases of mountain daffodils and sprigs of evening primrose, and glass-lid covered trays of pastries and fruit. People were coming in and out of the cabins carrying chairs and glasses, cheerfully greeting each other or shouting instructions, while children ducked out of the way with their wooden swords and pine bark figurines.

Troy turned around and sighed. A deep, guttural growl reverberated through his chest.

“What’s up with you? Getting the jitters?” Chase, Troy’s older brother said with a smirk. “Come on. Don’t be so fussy. You don’t have to do much, just stand up there and smile and nod and agree.” Chase nudged Matt, their youngest brother, in the ribs and Matt growled in response. He was concentrated cutting the tips off three thick cigars he had bought from Bear Cove’s liquor store for the occasion.

“If it’s so easy,” Troy grumbled, “why don’t you do it. Wait. Right. You married for
love
.”

“Mock all you want, but marrying for love isn’t all it’s cracked out to be anyway. Shona and I have our fair share of fights and now with the baby, she practically only notices me when she wants sex.”