Boarlander Bash Bear

by T. S. Joyce

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I can’t wait until you have a cub,” Audrey said over the sound of the water tumbling off the cliff above and into the waves.

  Emerson readjusted her backside on the slippery rock under the falls. It was darker here than on the other side, and they’d had to swim deep under the running water to get here, but damn, it was cool in the cave-like space. “I can’t wait either. I’ve wanted to be a mom for so long.”

  “How long?”

  “Since my early twenties. I used to beg my mom to have more babies.”

  “Were you the youngest?” Audrey asked.

  “No, but my sister hit age three and wanted nothing to do with me coddling her.”

  “I was an only child. Some people like being the only kid, but I didn’t. I wanted lots of brothers and sisters.”

  “I want ten cubs,” Bash said from where he bobbed in the water, his shoulders under Emerson’s calves.

  “Bash, she ain’t poopin’ out ten cubs,” Audrey said, her southern twang thickening.

  Emerson laughed and ducked her chin to her chest to hide her flushing cheeks. “I maybe want three.”

  “Three is good. Or four,” Bash said. “Or seven.”

  Audrey rolled her eyes. “Oh, good God, you’re incorrigible. I bet it will be different when you actually have the cub and realize how much work they are.”

  “Or having one will make me want twenty,” Bash said, then pressed a kiss on the inside of Emerson’s knee. “Twenty little Emerson’s. I hope we have all girls with curly hair and cheetah eyes.”

  Clinton popped out of the water right beside Bash, and Emerson startled hard. He pushed himself onto the sitting rock and scooted over until his arm touched hers.

  “That’s close enough,” Bash said, void of the humor that had been in his tone a second ago.

  “Harrison ordered me to apologize.”

  Emerson waited for a while, but Clinton just stared at the underside of the falls.

  “And?” Audrey said so loud her voice echoed.

  “And that’s it,” Clinton said, casting his Second a dirty look.

  Audrey sighed and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “You make me want to take a nap,” but Emerson could’ve been wrong on account of the water being so loud.

  “Uh, you’re forgiven,” Emerson said, desperate to avoid another row with the resident bad bear.

  “We need to invent a way of getting booze under here without everything getting wet,” Kirk said thoughtfully from his perch on the giant rock behind them.

  “Have floating coolers already been invented?” Mason asked. “Or we could try to float Big Blue in an inner tube.”

  “You named the cooler Big Blue?” Emerson asked.

  Mason smirked and nodded like it was the greatest name ever thought up.

  “I named my pet plant Spartacus.”

  “Of course you have a pet plant,” Clinton muttered. “You probably have a hundred cats and knit sweaters for them, too.”

  “I knitted a potholder once,” she admitted, unoffended. “Well, I meant for it to be a scarf, but I sucked at knitting so I quit when it was just a purple square.”

  “I like purple squares,” Bash said.

  Leaning forward, Emerson ruffled his black hair, dislodging water drops everywhere. “Well, I like you.”

  “Barf and yak,” Clinton said.

  “Oh, come on, Clinton,” Emerson drawled out, resting back on her locked arms. “Haven’t you ever had someone you loved?”

  Clinton cast her a long, calculating glance. She thought he would say something sarcastic and rude, but instead he murmured, “Yeah. But I destroy the things I love the most.”

  Pain slashed through her chest at the load Clinton was obviously carrying. But when she tried to ask what had happened to him, Clinton stood and dove gracefully into the water and disappeared under the falls.

  Bash gave her a troubled look and lifted one shoulder in a shrug at her questioning expression. “He don’t share his story. Not even Harrison knows.” He inhaled deeply and curved his lips up in a smile. “Come on. I promised to show you why orange is my favorite color.”

  Kirk, Audrey, and Mason were now discussing potential names for the baby mice, so she waved at them in a silent goodbye so she wouldn’t interrupt. Though she really hoped they weren’t being serious about Countess Florence Alligator Razor Teats the First—Teats for short.

  Grimacing, she slipped into the cool water and into Bash’s waiting arms. He swam them in a slow circle, right on the edge of the falls, and smiled through the mist at her. He looked so damned perfect, his ink-black hair dripping, his eyes the color of moss, the dark stubble on his jaw and that breathtaking smile of his. And he was hers.

  “You look all happy right now,” he said.

  “That’s because I am.”

  He canted his head, and the smile dipped from his lips. Seriously, he said, “Good. When you’re happy, it makes it easy for me to breathe.”

  He pulled her close and kissed her quick, then said, “Race ya.” Bash slipped from her arms and disappeared under the dark water.

  Emerson sucked in a giant gulp of air and dove down deep. Underwater, she eased her eyes open, and she could see him—Bash. Her mate was swimming with powerful strokes away from her, illuminated by sunrays that broke the surface of the waves. She could see the uneven skin of his burned back, but in this moment, she thought no one else had looked better and more stunning than Bash did here. Arching his back, he swam up to the surface, and she followed.

  On shore, Harrison and Clinton were packing up everything, but Bash didn’t seem inclined to land there. Instead, he led her farther down the currents and helped her toward the sandy beach thirty yards upriver. She laughed as their feet dragged through the final waves, and with a rush of excitement, she jumped up and clung to his shoulders, then nipped his bottom lip.

  “Bitey mate,” he mused, then grazed his teeth against her lips as he kissed her. Easing back, he murmured, “Hurry now before we miss it.” He grabbed her hand and dragged her up the beach. He didn’t slow until they came to a pair of trees, all wound together like they’d grown from the same roots. Bash pointed to a shallow valley between two mountains in the distance and said, “Look there, Emerson.”

  The sun was sitting right between them, half hidden already. Behind it, the sky was painted in pinks, but the setting sun was a bright and vibrant orange. Emerson gasped at how beautiful it was.

  Bash stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her, rested his cheek on the side of her head as the sun sank lower and lower between the mountains.

  “Bash?” she asked.

  “Mmm?”

  She cuddled back against him and whispered so she wouldn’t ruin the magic of this moment. “This is my favorite place to be in the whole world.”

  She could feel his slow smile against her hair. “My favorite place is wherever you are.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Today has been the best day of my life,” Bash said, his expression completely honest and open. The glow of the draped outdoor lights around Boarland Mobile Park lit half his face in a soft, gold glow.

  She smiled back at him and pulled his hand into her lap. They kept rocking on the chairs on his front porch. “It was my best day, too.”

  She was still sandy from swimming, but Bash hadn’t seemed in a rush to go inside and clean up. He’d stopped here, and really, it was the perfect ending to the night. Bash’s face faltered a little, and he spread his fingers out over her stomach. “Emerson, I don’t want you to get fired for defending me. You like your job too much. I don’t want you unhappy.”

  She had, in fact, been avoiding checking her cell phone all day because there was a hundred percent chance Fartleby was pitching a fit over the name snafu and her boss, Margee, had probably left Emerson a bunch of messages. Usually she was totally responsible about returning calls, but today, she’d just wanted to have all the happy moments she cou
ld with Bash. She would get the “you’re fired” messages tomorrow. Sitting here, looking into Bash’s worried eyes with his fingers drawing soothing circles onto her stomach, she couldn’t muster the energy to delve into work stuff today.

  “I have more newspapers and online venues I freelance for, and besides, I have a backup plan.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. I’ve never felt surer in my life.”

  “Are you hungry? Or tired or cold or thirsty?”

  She inhaled a breath of crisp mountain air and relaxed into the rocking chair. “I have everything I need right now.” She intertwined her fingers with Bash’s. Every single thing.

  The trailer park was quiet, but not the lack-of-noise kind. More like peaceful. Lightning bugs blinked in the woods behind the trailers, and the windows of Mason and Harrison’s homes were lit. Clinton was off in the woods somewhere, and strangely, this place felt odd without his snarky remarks echoing down the gravel road. Straight across the street, Mason sat against the rails of his porch, one leg outstretched, one bent as he plucked the strings of an old guitar with soft notes that carried this way and that on the breeze.

  “I don’t want to go back to Saratoga tomorrow,” she admitted. “I mean, I know I have to because my computer is there and I need to sort out some messes, but it’s nice to imagine just staying here.”

  Bash lifted her hand to his lips and bit her gently, right between her finger and thumb. “Maybe someday you can stay here. If you want. I don’t want to go to work tomorrow. Don’t want to miss time with you before you go.”

  “What time do you leave for your shift?”

  Bash scratched his sexy, dark facial scruff with the back of his thumbnail and arched his eyebrows at her. “Six.”

  “Whoa, that’s freaking early, Bash Bear. I usually roll out of bed at nine and don’t change out of my pajamas until after a few hours of work.”

  “Are you grumpy in the mornings?”

  “Not if I have a cup of coffee.”

  “Then I’ll make you a cup of coffee. Breakfast, too, if you wake up early with me so I can see you before I work.”

  “I’ll require bacon for that.”

  “Done.” Bash rocked upward and offered his hand, palm up. “Come on. I want to watch TV with you and pretend we’ll do that every night like one of them married couples.”

  With a grin, she slid her palm against his and reveled in the warm sensation that sparked through her nerve endings where their skin touched. She’d never felt such a connection with another person in her life. And as they walked down the road toward 1010, she realized it had started even before he’d sat down with her at the diner. Her adoration had started with that sweet compliment at the library, and her devotion had begun to grow before she’d even gotten to know the real Sebastian Kane. With every moment she spent with him, he felt more like home.

  With a smile, she waved goodnight to Mason, who nodded his chin and kept strumming that guitar of his. Usually, she was a night owl, but she understood the need for the trailer park to go quiet early. Harrison had explained to her they hadn’t been hitting their numbers in months thanks to Clinton chasing off most of the Boarlanders. All that was left was this skeleton crew, and they had to endure constant pressure to clear entire mountainsides so the Ashe Crew and the Gray Back Crew could come in with the big machinery and clean the felled lumber for transport to Kong’s sawmill in Saratoga. Here was a group of shifters who worked back-breaking manual labor to earn their wages. Her respect for this crew grew with every new thing she learned about them.

  “Can I come watch you work someday?” she asked.

  A soft rumble sounded from Bash, so she bumped his shoulder and held his hand. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t like the thought of you up there. It’s dangerous. It would be different if I bit you and put a bear in you, but you’re human. You don’t heal like me. If something happens to you… I wouldn’t be able to work with you up on the jobsite. I’d just hover around you all day. Audrey said girls don’t like that shit. I don’t want to chase you away.”

  “It’s okay,” she murmured, “I understand.” She liked that Bash was protective without being controlling.

  Inside 1010, Bash started digging around in the pantry, so she said, “I’m going to take a shower and get ready for bed.”

  “Okay,” he said breathlessly as he stared at her with wide eyes.

  With a shy smile, she asked, “Dooo you want to take a shower with me?”

  Bash answered by stripping out of his T-shirt and speed-walking past her and into the bathroom, stomping across the floor as he went. He left perfect dusty boot prints in a straight line from her to the bathroom that glowed invitingly from the lights above the sink. The tap water turned on.

  With a giggle, she pressed her flip-flop in the center of his huge boot print and marveled at the size difference. When she looked up, Bash was naked and frozen, head cocked as he watched her, his lips curved up in a questioning smile. Her heart fluttered in her chest.

  How did anyone have the right to be this happy?

  She lengthened her stride and stepped into each of his boot prints until she made it to the bathroom. He reached for her so fast his arms blurred, but he stilled just an inch from her skin. After a moment of hesitation, he slowed down and plucked the string of her bikini from behind her neck and whispered, “Gentle.” He undressed her slowly with steady fingers, gaze drifting from her eyes to her curvy parts as he pulled the fabric away. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

  Silly bear. He stood in front of her, tall enough to almost touch the ceiling, shoulders wide and strong, muscles cut in defined curves, eight-pack flexing with every breath and those bright, inhuman green eyes looking at her like she was prettier than that sunset he’d shared with her.

  Bash turned and pulled the shower curtain back, then offered his hand like she was his queen and helped her under the steaming shower water. He stepped in with her and closed the curtain, casting them in shadow. Emerson had unpacked all her smelly-good toiletries earlier, and Bash watched her with open curiosity as she primped, shampooed, conditioned, shaved her legs, and washed.

  Bash sniffed each bottle she used like he was committing her routine to memory. “Girls sure have to do a lot when they shower,” he said with a slight frown. “That don’t really seem fair. All I gotta do is shampoo and soap. Two minutes, and I’m done, but this is like a part-time job, bein’ a girl.”

  “Well, if you want my legs smooth and me smelling like a botanical garden, this is what has to happen.”

  “One, I like your natural smell, and two, smooth legs or Sasquatch legs, I’d still do you.”

  She snorted and closed her eyes against the laugh that lodged in her throat. Dear goodness, she loved the way he expressed his thoughts, so honest and abrupt. She was pretty sure none of her other boyfriends would’ve given her open encouragement to stop shaving her legs, but that was just Bash’s way. He was telling her he liked her however she wanted to be.

  Bash took his turn under the water and, sure enough, two minutes later, he was clean and smelling like soap. His back was to her as he rinsed out his hair, and she couldn’t stifle the urge to touch the uneven skin there. “Will you tell me what happened?”

  Bash tensed under her touch, then slowly he locked his arms against the wall and sighed. “Do you have to know?”

  “I would like to so I don’t imagine it worse than what it was.”

  “You can’t.”

  “I can’t what?”

  Bash turned slowly, and his eyes were so light green it was hard to hold his gaze. “You can’t imagine it worse than it was. Harrison’s bear ain’t right. His dad used to beat him silly, and he can’t feel safe. Before Audrey came along, he used to constantly patrol the border of Boarlander territory, just making sure all was well. All day, during his shifts, all night, when he was supposed to be sleeping. I always woke up, too, and waited on my porch at night until he came home. Had
to make sure he was okay. And for a while, he seemed like he was getting better. He was patrolling less. But then one day he just took off, tearing out of the trailer park, no warning. He Changed into his bear before he even hit the tree line, but me and the other boys didn’t hear anything wrong. Didn’t feel anything wrong, and sometimes it was like that for Harrison. Just fast. Uncontrolled. But then I heard it.” Bash swallowed hard.

  Bash wouldn’t look at her anymore, so she hugged him around his waist and rested her cheek against his chest. “Heard what?”

  “Gunshots. Poachers had come looking to shoot shifters. People had paid a guide a lot of money to take us, and Harrison gave him an easy target trying to keep them from the trailer park. And Georgia was there.”

  “Who’s Georgia?”

  “She’s a Gray Back park ranger. Jason’s mate. Damon hired her to help take care of his mountains. She got all shot up, too, and I was running as fast as I could, trying to get to them. The boys were following, but Harrison was…” Bash’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat before he continued. “Harrison is my best friend. Mine to protect. I reached him as Damon brought war to those sonofabitches. He was raining dragon’s fire, and he’s ancient. Good aim, but his fire is wide, and we were all clumped together. I had to protect Harrison. He was bleeding so bad, his fur all matted, and was draggin’ himself across the ground, trying to reach Georgia. And all I had time to do was throw myself over him. I caught the edge of the fire, and it was fast. Damon wasn’t aiming for me. He was trying to get the men shooting. Trying to protect us. Trying to get us to live. And when it was done, I couldn’t see straight I hurt so bad. I didn’t want to look because I thought my skin wasn’t there anymore, so I just went to work trying to get the bullets out of Harrison so he could maybe heal. Red up to my elbows,” Bash murmured in a faraway voice as he rocked Emerson gently from side to side. “He kept saying, ‘she saved me,’ and Jason was trying to bring Georgia back. The Gray Backs were yelling at her to breathe, and I was trying to stop the red on Harrison. There was fire all around. Ashes and smoke. After that, Harrison had a hard time healing, and things got bad for the Boarlanders. He never said not to show my burns, but I don’t want them reminding him of that day, so I just keep them covered when I can.”