The Bear Who Loved Me (15 page)

“What?”

He took a breath. “You can't use my brother to distract yourself from what's going on with Theo. It's cruel enough to play with someone's emotions like that, but it's deadly if you do that with an alpha. Don't fuck with his head. Certainly not when he's doing everything he can to find Theo for you.”

Was that what she was doing? Was she just screwing Carl as a way to pass the time? Everything in her rebelled at the thought, and yet in a situation like this, who knew what tricks the mind played? “I'm not doing that on purpose,” she said, knowing it for a weak excuse.

“Don't do it at all. For any reason.” Then he straightened and stepped away, his gaze cutting to the right.

She followed his look and saw Carl standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room, his gaze heavy on her and Alan. His hair was towel-dried now, curling every which way. He had on jeans and a flannel shirt and there were socks in his hands. She met his gaze, flinching slightly at the raw emotion that swirled there. She couldn't read it, had no idea what he was thinking. But whatever it was, it was wild and powerful. And it was only in his eyes as the rest of him stood statue still.

She swallowed, wanting to go to him, but holding herself back. Alan's warning rang loud in her head. She didn't want to use him for her own selfish needs. And until she got some clarity about herself and him, she didn't want to lead him on. So she held herself back and wished with all her might that she had time to take a breath.

And then, like magic, he gave it to her.

“Tonya's got some leads. She and Bryn have figured out some locations where they might be holding Theo.”

Her heart jolted inside her chest. “Where?”

“There are a dozen different places. They're checking as many as they can, but need help. So she and I are going to the ones around Gladwin.”

That made sense. Tonya would have authority as a police officer and Carl would be there as Max.

“What can I do?” she asked.

“Just wait here. I'll call if there's any news.”

“But I want to—”

“Just wait here, Becca.” It was half order, half plea.

“Sure,” she said. What else could she do? Maybe he needed some time to sort things out, too. So this was the perfect solution for them both. Except it didn't feel like it. In fact, it felt awful as she stood there watching him pull on his socks and boots. Worse, he then crossed to a locked cabinet and pulled out a handgun. She wondered at first why he needed it when he was Max Grizzly Bear, but then she remembered that he'd already shifted today. He wouldn't be able to go back into that kind of fighting mode again until after he'd rested.

Damn it, that made him extra vulnerable, and that scared the hell out of her.

“Wait!” she called as she headed for the door.

He froze mid step.

“You've got fifteen minutes, right? I mean you don't have to leave this second, right?”

He frowned. “Tonya's still coordinating with her team. I have maybe ten minutes. What did you have in mind?”

A million things flooded her brain, half of them pornographic, but out of all of them the need to make him as strong as possible was the loudest. “You haven't eaten and you shifted this morning. You must be starving.”

“We'll grab a doughnut—”

“Don't be ridiculous. Or cliché.” She opened a bottom cabinet and found a skillet shoved in the back. God, it had dust on it. “I'm making you breakfast.”

“You don't have to do that…” His voice trailed away at her glare.

“Sit,” she ordered. Then she went into short order cook mode, pulling together a breakfast fit for a starving lumberjack. All the protein and tasty carbs she could shove in his body in ten minutes.

He ate every bite, murmuring appreciative grunts throughout. There wasn't time for them to talk, which was just as well. She had no idea what she wanted to say. It took twelve minutes in total, and he left with a full thermos of coffee and three slices of buttered toast to eat on the road.

And then he was gone. She heard him and Tonya talk as they climbed into the squad car. Then she stood at the window and watched them drive away, feeling irrationally jealous that Tonya got to sit with him and not her. Five minutes later, Alan left as well. There were legal things to handle after this morning's fight.

Which left her alone with her thoughts.

Which—she now realized—really sucked.

C
arl ached. There was no other word for the exhaustion that pulled at his heart and mind. It began with a physical burn from the fight earlier today. Plus, shifting left a residue in a body. A kind of toxin that had to be worked out either in bear or human form. It was normal, but it often required ibuprofen or a hot tub to soak the misery away. Carl had neither.

Next came his frustration at their lack of progress. He and Tonya had visited every possible site in the county for another secret lab to no avail. With modern satellite imagery and their combined knowledge of the area, they'd been able to investigate a dozen possibilities but had found nothing. Well, not quite nothing. They'd stumbled over three small pot fields, but Carl hadn't cared enough to deal with that. Even Tonya had just texted the info to her boss and moved on.

But now it was after dark. Tonya had moved past cranky hours ago and was now into grunt-and-point mode as she dropped him off at his home. Which left Carl heading up the walkway to face Becca and the ache that had filled his heart for most of the day.

She was repulsed by him. He didn't blame her. After all, it had taken him years to come to an armed truce with the animal inside him. The thing was brutal and violent. All it knew how to do was destroy. That was useful so long as his intelligence kept it under control. He'd learned in his first years as Max to open the cage and aim the creature at whatever nasty had to be taken out. Then the moment the danger was past, the grizzly went back into lockdown.

But this morning had required him in full grizzly. Which meant she'd seen him at his most brutal. He'd felt her revulsion like a physical blow. And when she'd turned from him? It was like being kicked to the curb by civilization. She was a soft kind of girl, raised in the city, educated well, and living in an area that didn't even have crime. Of course the sight of him covered in gore would make her ill.

So he'd stayed away, searching for her adopted son as the only way he could help her. But he'd stewed about what had happened, worrying it like a diseased tooth until he was as surly as Tonya. And now he was home, his body tired, his mind still churning, and his heart aching because the woman he wanted had rejected him.

What a pathetic sack of shit he was.

He pushed open the front door, expecting the place to be deserted. Alan liked to work in his room, and Becca was probably hiding from him. Except instead of the typical dark, the living room was bright with light. Alan was sitting on the couch watching TV and Becca was at the dining room table working on a laptop. They both looked up when he entered, but if they said something, he lost it amid the smell.

Garlic bread and lasagna. He'd know that scent anywhere, and it drew him inside like nothing else. It was his favorite meal, and he hadn't had it homemade since his mother died when he was sixteen. His stomach growled, loud enough to be heard over the TV. Becca smiled and gestured, but she needn't have bothered. He went straight to the kitchen cabinets for a plate and silverware. It was a triumph of civilization that he didn't just pick up the pan and gobble it whole.

Becca joined him in the kitchen, her scent an odd combination of his soap, tomato sauce, and gunpowder. He wrinkled his nose, trying to understand if he had that right, but then lost the thought as she scooped up a huge serving onto his plate. And when he started to dig a fork in, she pulled it out of his hand.

“It's cold. You need to microwave it for a minute.” She fitted the action to her words and he almost howled at the loss. Then he stood there like a child counting down the seconds on the machine while he waited. His stomach growled three more times, though she poured him a glass of something and he drank that just as a way to wait.

Raspberry iced tea? From a jug?

He frowned at the container on the counter, and Becca answered before he could ask it out loud. “I made some sun tea this afternoon. Is it cold enough?”

He didn't even know what sun tea was, but he nodded as held out his empty glass. Twenty-three more seconds until lasagna. Twenty-two. Twenty-one.

While Becca poured him more tea, Alan turned off the TV and leaned against the kitchen door. “I take it you didn't have any luck.”

Carl shook his head, his gaze not on his brother but on Becca's face. She kept it neutral, but he saw her disappointment. Her lips tightened and she even swallowed as she put away the tea. Meanwhile, heaven came at the sound of the microwave finishing.
Lasagna!

He took it out and shoveled in his first bite while it was still too hot. Didn't matter. Heaven in a single bite.

“This is good,” he managed.

“I can't believe you didn't just burn your tongue.”

He shrugged. “Hungry.” And wasn't he doing a great job of acting like a mature man? A caveman spoke better than he had. So he forced himself to swallow and hold off shoveling in a new bite. “Thank you for the dinner. You can't know how much I appreciate it.”

She smiled, her cheeks warming to a rosy pink. “I had to do something. Alan said your mother used to make lasagna. I found her recipe. I hope you don't mind.”

Mind? He was ready to worship at her feet for this. But he didn't say that. It was too brutally honest. Instead, he looked around the counter. “Recipe? Where—”

“The box was in the cabinet up there.” She pointed to the corner cabinet, which was filled with stuff they hadn't used in years: a food processor, a couple casserole dishes, and he didn't know what. And—obviously—his mother's recipe box.

“Make anything you want, any time you want. I'll pay for the food. Whatever you need. Please.”
Was that too much like begging?

“How long has it been since anyone's cooked for you?” She looked at both men.

Alan shrugged. “We usually eat whatever the kids are being served.” The after-school program had snacks every afternoon. And since shifters tended to eat a lot, even before their First Change, the meals were heartier than the usual crackers and a slice of cheese. They got burgers, hot dogs, and pizza on a regular basis. For Carl and Alan, that meant that weekends were filled with leftover burgers, hot dogs, and pizza. All of which added up to homemade lasagna as the nearest thing to heaven in a very long time.

“I made salad, too,” she said, then chuckled. “But I can see that you'd rather eat the pasta.”

He was already serving himself more. At least this time he managed to wait somewhat patiently as the microwave worked. Meanwhile, Becca leaned against the refrigerator, obviously working hard to appear casual. “Did you learn anything at all?”

He could see the worry in her eyes and hated making it worse, so he tried to put a positive spin on the situation. “We've eliminated a lot of possibilities. That's good progress. The entire police force is working on this. They'll figure out the next step.”

She nodded, her gaze canting away. “Nothing new, then.”

No way to answer that directly without confirming her worst fears. So he touched her chin, pulling her gaze up to his. “We'll find him. I swear it.”

She searched his face and he kept it as open as he knew how. Let her see his absolute determination to find Theo and punish the bastard who created the situation in the first place. Whatever he showed her must have been convincing because eventually she nodded.

“Thanks.”

Jesus. “Don't thank me, Becca. This is what I do. It's the Max's job to protect everyone here, especially the young.” And it killed him that he'd failed in that. “Thank you for the food.” Now that there were calories in his stomach, he noticed that the pile of laundry was gone and that someone had tidied up their home. That sure as hell hadn't been Alan. “Thanks for everything,” he said, gesturing at the clean home.

“I have to do something or I'll go insane.”

“She also went to the gun range today,” Alan said, his voice excruciatingly dry. It was his lawyer way of criticizing. “I told her we'd keep her safe, but she insisted.”

That explained the scent of gunpowder. “You don't have to be afraid here,” Carl said. Though he could hardly blame her for being worried, what with grizzly wars taking place on the front lawn.

She sighed. “Turns out a gun didn't make me feel safer,” she said as she handed him a slice of garlic bread. “I'm a sucky shot.”

“You're a great cook,” Carl said, and she couldn't know how much he needed that. How he wanted a woman who wasn't about destroying. Whose focus was on building and nurturing.

Meanwhile, Alan continued to poke. “Did you run into any trouble today?”

Carl glanced at his brother, hearing the underlying question there: Is Tonya okay? “Nothing we couldn't handle. We're going to start at dawn tomorrow. Start searching farther afield.”

“Everyone wants to help. Marty's coordinating food baskets for the people at the watch points, but beyond that I don't know what else we can do.”

Carl couldn't think of anything either. “No more teens in their First Change?”

“No one's old enough. It's just Theo now.”

Right. His gaze went back to Becca's pale skin. She was holding it together better than many mothers would, but the strain was showing. “You should get some rest,” he said to her softly.

“I…” She shrugged. “I can't sleep.” Then she gave an awkward shrug. “I made pie. It's not fancy, but—”

“Pie?” he interrupted. He shoveled in the last bites of his lasagna. “Where?”

“Blueberry.” She opened the refrigerator. “I can heat it—”

“Nope.” He took it from her hand. “I love it cold. I used to sneak it late at night after everyone had gone to bed. Always ate it cold then.”

“Told ya,” Alan quipped to Becca as he straightened off the wall. “I don't know about you two, but I'm beat. Dawn comes early for lawyers, too.”

Carl frowned. “Anything I need to know about?”

Alan waved absently behind his back. “Not unless you enjoy the finer details of estate taxes.”

“Kill me now.”

“Exactly how I felt this afternoon when I started with it.” And with that, Alan climbed the stairs to his bedroom, leaving Carl and Becca alone with blueberry pie.

A third of the pie was gone—probably what Alan had eaten—and Carl could easily finish the rest. But he figured it would be crass to eat the thing straight out of the pie tin. So he once again pretended to be civilized and got himself a plate. “Want any?”

“I had some earlier,” she said.

He paused, frowning down at the plate. He knew his brother. Alan took the missing chunk. “Did you make two?”

She shook her head. “Just the one.”

He set down the pie long enough to look at her hard. “Don't lie to me Becca. It makes me nuts.”

She opened her mouth on a gasp, then slowly closed it. “Sorry. I don't know why I said that.”

He did. “Because Alan probably pushed you to eat when you didn't want it. So it's easier to lie to me than go through that again.” He leaned forward, needing to press his point. “Except it isn't easier because I can tell. Just say you don't want it. I won't force you.”

She nodded. “Is that a bear thing? Does my scent change or something?”

Yes. No. Her scent was a constant bouquet of temptation for him. It probably did change when she lied, but if he started focusing on her scent, he'd be hard and horny by the next breath. “Not this time,” he said. “But I can still tell.”

“I won't do it again.” Then she gestured to the pie. “Want any ice cream with that?”

He didn't care about the ice cream, but he didn't want her leaving his side. Not yet. So he used the excuse to keep her near. And while she scooped, he looked at the laptop open on the dining room table. “Is that yours?”

“It's Alan's old one. He set it up for me. I've been catching up on emails and…” She shrugged. “Killing time, mostly.”

As hard as today had been for him, how much harder had it been for her just sitting around waiting for news? He'd texted when he could, but there were only so many variations on “Nothing yet. Hope for a lead soon.”

Still, he had to care for her somehow, so he pulled out an extra spoon and bowl for her. “Why not scoop a little for yourself?”

She shot him a glance. “You said you wouldn't push.”

Oh, right.
“It was just a suggestion.”

Her expression turned wry, but then she pleased him by taking the bowl from his hand. “Maybe a little.”

A few moments later, they settled down at the table, each enjoying the dessert. It was ridiculous how happy the domestic scene made him. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so content at the end of the day. Certainly never after a day as bad as today. But then Becca started to shift uncomfortably in her chair. She opened her mouth twice as if to say something, but then abruptly shoved a spoonful of ice cream in instead. Clearly she wanted to talk to him, but wasn't sure how to broach the topic. And given how happy he'd been a second ago, he wasn't sure he wanted her to break the peace. But in the end, he had to know. So in the split second between one bite and the next, he gave her an opening in the most off hand way he could think of.

“You can tell me anything.” He smiled at her and wished for the thousandth time today that their morning after had gone differently. That he'd had time to hold her in his arms and wake her slowly in the way of a skilled lover.

She flushed and looked away. “It's more of a question.”

He nodded. “So ask.”

“It's personal.”

He huffed out a breath. Didn't she get it? He'd give her anything she wanted and that included all the intimate secrets of his life. “Ask.”

“What's it like to shift? Is it just you with a different body? Like putting on a different coat? Or are there other changes? Do you think like a man? Or…”