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A Sheepishly Bearly Normal Life

By Nicole Chance

Emilee Alden wiped off another table at Carson’s All-Niter Diner. She was new to the area if you could even call it an area. The diner sat on a stretch of highway in the middle of nowhere. Most people who traveled through here were bikers and truckers. She wasn’t that comfortable with either of them. A memory from her childhood weighed her down: her mother shooting up on the sofa while her boyfriend beat Emilee.

The breaking of glass jerked her back to the present, and she glanced down to see a shattered coffee mug on the floor. The five bikers who sat in one corner all turned their beady glares in her direction as if she’d horribly interrupted them.

Damn it!

Emilee grabbed a few napkins and knelt to pick up the larger pieces. The diner’s owner, Carson Daniels, slammed open the kitchen door as he walked toward her carrying a dustpan and broom. Dread roiled her stomach, and she cursed herself for being so clumsy. She needed this job. Carson had nearly turned her away, but he’d given her the job with a snide comment that at least she had a great ass. After that, she did her best to avoid him, but it wasn’t easy.

“Miss Alden, that’s the third you’ve broken this week. Do you want this mess to come out of your paycheck?” He didn’t even try lowering his voice. No, he put her humiliation on public display for everyone to witness.

“No, Mr. Daniels, I—”

He threw the broom and dustpan on the floor in front of her with a loud clatter, then began to walk away. He stopped after a few steps and turned back to face her. “I want to see you in my office after you’ve cleaned that up.”

The strength in her legs gave out, and Emilee dropped to her knees feeling a piece of sharp glass pierce her flesh. “Oh, God,” she whispered.

The bikers began talking at once in low, amused voices. Likely discussing what they just witnessed. Why was this happening to her? She pushed to her feet, hearing the rumble of a motorcycle outside. Great, someone else to poke fun at my shame. She quickly swept the floor before removing the piece of glass from her knee and slapping a Band-Aid on it. When she took her break later, she’d clean it up better. For now, she had another customer to serve.

Emilee walked over to the table as she dug through her apron for her pen to write down the order, but she couldn’t find it.

The deep rumble of a man clearing his voice drew her attention. The guy who sat before her was a wall of muscle. His arms were bigger than her head. He stared at her with dark brown, almost black eyes. His sandy brown hair was cut close to his head in a military fashion. But his clothes were biker leathers.

Her lips parted, and she could only blink at him.

The frown he wore deepened, and he waved her pen with the fuzzy pink tip. “Looking for this?”

“Yes.” She reached for the pen but dropped it to the table when her hand touched his.

Behind her, she heard a few quiet snickers. She wanted to shoot them dirty looks, but that wouldn’t solve anything. In fact, it might lower her tips for the night if she could keep any at all after breaking the cup. Her heart raced in her chest, and she took a deep breath before quietly letting it out.

“Sorry,” she said, trying to regain her composure. “It’s been an off night.”

The large man seated before her narrowed his eyes at the other customers. “No need for an apology. Give me two of the twelve-ounce steak dinners, a cheeseburger with fries, and...” He glanced over the menu a little more, flipping it over. “A cheesesteak with onion rings.”

She looked out the window as if expecting more bikers to pull up any second now and join him, but no one did. “You must be a bodybuilder with all that protein, right?” She laughed nervously, putting her hands into the pockets of her apron to keep them from visibly shaking. How stupid could she be making a comment like that?

He furrowed his eyebrows, and his lips tightened into a thin line. “Sure, something like that.”

The kitchen door slammed open again, and tension clenched Emilee’s gut. She turned her head to see Carson standing in the doorway with a hand propped on his hip. The cold look he gave her sent chills slithering down her spine.

“Um... I’m sorry. I have to—” She glanced back to the muscular biker. “Did you want something to drink with your meal?”

“Black coffee.” He leaned back in the booth, so he sat sideways with his back to the wall, knee resting on the seat while stretching his arm across the back. “Don’t let him mess with you. I know his type well.”

“But I...” She looked back at Carson across the small diner. “I’ll be right back with your coffee, sir.”

“Rafe.”

“R-Rafe?” Emilee blinked at him and bit her lower lip trying to maintain her cool.

“My name’s Rafe. I’m not keen on being called ‘sir.’” He winked at her, his demeanor becoming more relaxed than before. Although, when he glanced back toward her boss, the muscles in his jaw ticked. “Looks like you should handle that before he comes over to get you.”

“Yeah, guess I should.” Emilee gave him a small, sad smile. She pushed her shoulders back a little and walked to the kitchen’s entrance.

More quiet snickers came from bikers in the corner, but she tried to push their condescension to the back of her thoughts. If Emilee was going to deal with Carson right now, she needed to focus on one thing at a time. Being sucked into her thoughts had gotten her into trouble in the first place.

She really couldn’t afford to lose her job.

* * *

Rafe Chapman repositioned himself in the seat so he could get a better look at the curvy blonde named Emilee as she walked into the kitchen. His stomach grumbled hungrily for his food, but he couldn’t help the other type of hunger building within him. She was cute, not his usual type, but it had been a while since he’d slept with anyone.

George Moore, the Desert Bears’ clan leader, had been after him to settle down for a while now, but Rafe didn’t need a woman and children holding him back. He had a life to live, things to do, excitement and the spontaneity of adventure to enjoy. His time as a Navy SEAL probably came about in part due to that underlying urge, but that chapter in his life had closed much sooner than he’d hoped.

He shifted in the booth, fighting the memories that pushed to the surface. During a dangerous mission in a remote forest, he’d watched his fellow SEALs die as a giant beast ripped them to shreds and left Rafe to die, but he didn’t. He’d become a bear shifter.

George had contacts within the government and took him under his wing, walking Rafe through his new—albeit, reluctant—life.

Several minutes passed, and he turned his gaze back to the kitchen door. Neither Emilee nor her boss had returned yet. He couldn’t hear them over the sounds of the kitchen and the humming cook at the grill.

The cook set a couple of dishes in the small window that connected the dining room with the kitchen as if surprised Emilee wasn’t there. He met Rafe’s gaze and opened his mouth as if to say something, but a door slammed open farther into the kitchen.

Emilee’s quiet sobs set Rafe’s blood to boiling. “Please, I—”

“You stupid little bitch. After your shift, leave your uniform here. I don’t want you in my sights ever again!” Her boss shouted the words; even from the other room, his grating voice pissed Rafe off big-time.

The group of bikers in the corner burst out laughing as they watched Emilee walk through the kitchen door. Her face was red and puffy with tears dampening her cheeks. Before this, they’d been sneaky about it, but now they seemed to revel in their despair.

That’s it. Enough of this shit.

Emilee looked between the group and Rafe. She bit her lower lip and walked over to the shelf where his food was waiting.

The way she was treated disturbed him. He hadn’t been here long, but he hadn’t seen any reason for them to disrespect her like this. Her passive nature made her a prime target for the owner, but there appeared to be more going on with him dragging her back there like that and firing her. Did he try something with her?

More laughter from the group had Rafe striding over to where the group sat in the corner. He didn’t like getting into other people’s business, but he’d be damned if some chick got treated this way on his watch. He refused to sit back and do nothing.

The men grew quiet as he approached. They likely were the owners of the motorcycles parked out front. Their long, dirty hair and ruffian attitude were things he hated about some of the other bikers out there. He loved the feel of power between his thighs and to have the wind on his face. The beauty of the engineering in the motorcycles also helped. But mostly, it sank into his need for excitement and adventure. It thrilled him.

They, on the other hand, appeared to be part of the reason bikers were viewed like outlaws.

Rafe glanced at the back of one of the five guys to see they were part of an MC. He grimaced. At least being a werebear meant he’d stand a chance. His kind wasn’t immune to bullets, but he was faster and stronger than the average man. His training as a Navy SEAL didn’t hurt either.

Rafe hovered over their table for a moment. The guy closest to him scooted his chair away a little, but he didn’t have many options on where to go. He lowered his gaze and focused back on eating as if hoping Rafe would disappear, but the others weren’t as easily intimidated.

“Can I help you?” one of the older bikers said, tossing his napkin on his empty plate.

“Yes. You have two options: apologize to the waitress and shut the fuck up, or you can leave this diner now. Dinner would be my treat.” Money wasn’t an issue with Rafe. What he hated more was having these men taunt Emilee anymore when she was already having a bad night.

The man looked to his fellow bikers as if giving some secret message to them. Maybe he was also trying to save face with his friends. If they saw him as weak, he wouldn’t continue to get the respect he craved.

Rafe didn’t care. He was sick and tired of seeing guys like that push around young girls. “What’s your choice?” From the corner of his eye, he saw Emilee standing beside his table carefully placing food on the table. Her wide eyes watched him, but he turned his attention back on the matter at hand.

The older biker slowly rose to his feet, scraping the chair across the floor with an annoying screech. “You know?” He looked Rafe straight in the eyes, which might have been intimidating to anyone else, but it was a bold challenge to him. One his beast wanted to correct. “I think we’ll choose neither. My friends aren’t done with our food yet.” He tapped his index finger against his chin. “Maybe you’re the one who needs to leave.”

Rafe stood up straight. His height forced him to crane his neck downward to look at the idiot. “You sure about that?”

“Mmmm... Positive.” He glanced past Rafe and licked his lips in a vulgar manner. “Maybe I’ll be having dessert later when the girlie gets done with her shift.”

Whatever anger he felt before exploded within him. He clenched his hands into fists to keep from strangling the asshole. “We’ll see about that.”

“That we will.” The old biker nodded behind Rafe. “Guess you better return to your table. Wouldn’t want that feast of yours to get cold.”

No, he didn’t, especially since he’d be using that food as fuel for the fight to come. He couldn’t wait to wrap his hands around their throats.

Emilee couldn’t believe her eyes. What was Rafe thinking going over to those men like that? She tried not to eavesdrop on their conversation, but the old biker’s look sent chills of horror along her spine. This night was getting worse and worse.

First, she had to deal with the bikers, then Carson yelled at her and called her into his office. After looking like an idiot before Rafe, she’d been locked into Carson’s tiny office as he propositioned her—give him sex and she keeps her job. As much as she wanted her job, she couldn’t stomach the idea of Carson putting his hands all over her. He was mean and married. Who’s to say he wouldn’t twist things and fire her afterward anyway?

If none of that was enough, now Rafe faced-off with the bikers. Had something happened while she was in the back? The look he gave her answered that, though. She couldn’t comprehend why he would do that sort of thing for her.

She headed back to the window for the rest of his food. By the time she returned to his table, he was sitting there glaring at the bikers. Anger burned in his brown eyes making them darker than ever.

“When does your shift end?” he asked, not even looking in her direction.

Emilee opened her mouth in surprise. It was bad enough that both the old biker and her boss were lecherous... Why would Rafe need to know this unless he—

“Answer the question.” He met her gaze then, and his intense expression froze her in place.

“S-seven o’clock. One hour. Why?” She fixed her attention on the table, unable to look him in the eye any longer. Being a waitress wasn’t easy, but she’d never felt lower than she had tonight. If it were up to her, she’d be doing something important, something that mattered like caring for children and being someone who encouraged and appreciated them. She could only wonder what her life would be like if she’d had that growing up.

“You’re not safe. If I were you, I’d have a boyfriend or male friend come pick you up.” He grabbed his half-pound cheeseburger and bit off a quarter of it.

“I can’t.”

He furrowed his brow at her. “What is that supposed to mean? Didn’t you hear what I said?” he asked with a harsh tone.

She wanted to run to the ladies’ bathroom and hide for the rest of her shift. Enough people had made her feel shitty for one day. If he thought she would thank him for being a gruff asshole just like everyone else, then he had another think coming. She hadn’t asked him to go start more trouble for her.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she said, turning to leave. His large hand on her wrist stopped her. She tried to pull away, but it was no use almost as if his fingers were bands of steel. “What do you want? Just let me go.”

He let her hand go suddenly, nearly throwing her off balance. “I’m trying to help you. If you knew what was good for you, you’d accept it and go about your life.” He wiped his hand that had held her on his jeans as if she had germs.

Emilee’s jaw started to drop, but she caught it before she could bring further embarrassment to herself. “Fine. I don’t know why you’d even care. I’ll drop my uniform off, then come over before I leave.” She heard loud, obvious throat clearing and glanced over at the bikers who were smirking at her and waving their coffee cups. “Do you need anything else?”

Any heat in Rafe’s eyes had died, leaving them cold and unwelcoming. “More coffee would be nice.”

She fought off a shiver and headed back to the kitchen for the fresh coffee she’d brewed before dropping the glass. The cook gave her a sad smile and shrugged as she grabbed the carafe.

“Sorry, you have to deal with all that.” His voice remained low enough that no one would hear them. “You’ll be missed here. The other girls enjoyed working with you.” He leaned in to where his warm breath brushed her earlobe. “You deserve a helluva lot better than this joint. Don’t forget that.”

“Thanks. That’s kind,” Emilee said, pulling away from him. “I’ve enjoyed working with all of you too. Tell them I said that.” They didn’t talk much on a typical night, but she’d seen the way he’d looked at her before. Maybe leaving here was for the best. It seemed everyone was trying to get something from her. She was a human being, not some female in heat to be claimed.

The dining area was relatively quiet. Only the hushed talking of the bikers and the scrape of silverware on plates disturbed the silence. She walked back to the dining area, unable to keep her gaze away from Rafe’s table. He watched her as she hurried to the bikers’ table to refill their coffee cups. She could think about what he’d said later. Did he actually know she was in danger? After the old biker’s glare, she didn’t think he was making stuff up.

“Anything else I can get for you gentlemen tonight?” Emilee asked, doing her best to smile and not look too worried. Don’t let Rafe get to you. You’ve got this.

“Maybe.” The biker beside the leader smacked her on the butt as she refilled his coffee cup. “You might be enough for all of us tonight. Of course, Jack would get dibs, but for you, babe, I don’t mind taking sloppy seconds.”

Heat rose in her face, and she looked at the older biker who just grinned at her. “I...uh... No. I don’t know what kind of impression you have of me, but it’s wrong. I really don’t appreciate this type of behavior.”

“That’s what you say now.” The biker pulled her into his lap, and she struggled away from him. He locked his arms around her waist, and she twisted in his grip enough to splash his cup of hot coffee on his face. “Bitch!” He released her to wipe his face, giving her the chance to dash away.

The youngest biker who sat across from him frowned at her but didn’t make a move to block her. He’d been the only one at the table who hadn’t tried to grope or act like a jerk to her.

She heard chairs scrape the floor behind her, but didn’t even bother looking back. Fear and adrenaline pulsed through her veins as she took off for the front door. Screw Carson and his stupid uniform, she was out of here. She smacked into the wall of muscle that was Rafe and nearly fell to her ass.

Rafe held her by the upper arm and pushed her behind him. “Don’t worry. I’m here. Just stay behind me.”

“But—” He narrowed his eyes at her, and she nodded.

Rafe loomed over her. While she was five foot six, he had to be close to six and a half or even seven feet tall. She looked around him to see the other bikers slow before him. The biker’s face was bright pink from the hot coffee. If he hadn’t been such a jerk and tried to get carried away with her, she would’ve been remorseful about what she did.

“You again. Just move out of our way and let us deal with the girlie.” The older biker stood in front and stared up at Rafe. “See what she did to my friend here? We can’t let that stand.”

From the kitchen, Emilee could hear a little bit of rattling, and she looked to see the cook frowning at them. He watched through the kitchen window where orders came out to the dining room. The cook nodded toward the kitchen door, but she couldn’t just leave Rafe out here all by himself. He was risking himself for her while the cook just hid.

“Seems like your friend had it coming with his behavior toward her. If it were up to me, I’d break his fingers.” Rafe’s voice was cold and nonchalant as if they were merely discussing the weather. He took a step toward the old biker, getting into the other man’s personal space. “Guess it’s a good thing you guys are leaving now.” He turned only halfway toward her, keeping the bikers in his peripheral vision. “Ring up all the orders. I think your shift is over now.”

Emilee nodded and darted to the cash register, punching in the orders. Maybe she’d been a little too harsh toward Rafe earlier. He was the only thing standing between her and those bikers. His warning suddenly made a lot more sense, and yet she’d been rude to him. Ugh! She brought the check over and sat it on the table.

“My wallet is in my back pocket. Grab enough cash from it to take care of the bill.” This time, he didn’t even turn to face her; he just issued the command. For what was going on, he seemed entirely calm. Who knew what kind of weapons those guys might be carrying? They didn’t look like the type of people to mess with regardless.

Emilee looked down at Rafe’s butt. His wallet was really in the pocket. She wouldn’t be able to get to it unless she really reached her hand in there. Biting her lip, she stuck her index and middle finger in to wrest the wallet free, but it didn’t want to budge. He was solidly muscled, and she caught herself wondering what he’d look like without his pants on. Totally not the time for thoughts like that, Emilee.

Rafe sighed and pulled it free himself. Before he could hand it to her, the biker with the slightly burned face dove for Rafe. The glint of metal beneath the fluorescent lights caused her to gasp, and the thick scent of coppery blood hit her nose.

Instead of falling to his knees and groaning in pain, Rafe grunted and picked the pissed biker up by the throat with one hand. “That was a really shitty move, asshole.” He threw the man into the others as if using him as a bowling ball to knock down pins. “Get on my bike and put on the helmet. We’re out of here.”

Emilee nodded, then ran outside as quickly as she could. She glanced over at her beat-up car. It would never outmaneuver motorcycles if the men chased her. She slid the helmet on just as Rafe jogged out of the diner. Through the glass, she could see the bikers climbing to their feet. They had knives in hand and were shouting at one another.

He started the motorcycle, helped her on. Right as the bikers approached, they were speeding away. She pressed her face against Rafe’s back and tightly wrapped her arms around his waist. This wasn’t the first time she’d been on a motorcycle, but she had to admit. This might’ve been the most freeing.

Rafe’s deep chuckle vibrated through his torso and against her cheek. “Don’t worry, babe. You’ll be fine.” He patted her arm. The feeling of his skin on hers warmed her insides.

So not the time...