Bearly Together

by Chant, Zoe

  Henry took the certificate with a grin. “Much appreciated,” he said sincerely, giving a courtly bow. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  He probably wouldn’t be.

  He sauntered out as if Dean had just given him a golden ticket, whistling his way off-key down the street.

  Dean turned on the shop radio and put the bell back up on the counter; Henry had put it on the floor for some reason.

  Ten minutes and a test drive later, it sang out demandingly and Dean pushed himself out from beneath the car with a disparaging snort.

  Rich city people, he thought derisively. This one probably couldn’t even pump her own gas.

  He was wiping his hand off with a rag, trying to come up with a diplomatic way to break the news without laughing in the face of Henry’s fancy lady with clicky shoes.

  But everything he’d planned to say vanished at the sight of the young woman standing in the office, frowning at a metal print of a tractor.

  Shelley Powell.

  She was absolutely beautiful: tall and elegant, with touchable, tousled blond hair, and she was dressed to impress, with a perfectly smooth straight knee-length skirt and a slinky, low-cut shirt under an open jacket that left very little of the curves of her generous breasts to imagination.

  She turned back to the counter, already starting to say, “I’m here about the Lincoln—”

  Silver eyes met his and if Dean had thought she was beautiful a moment before, now he was utterly enraptured.

  His bear woke within him a start. She’s ours, he demanded. Ours forever.

  I wish this for you, Deirdre had told him when she left. With all my soul, I want you to feel this, to know what it’s like.

  At the time, still nurturing the heart she’d broken, Dean had vehemently denied that it was anything he wanted.

  Now, he couldn’t imagine anything he wanted more.

  This woman was his mate.

  She was gazing at him from the most beautiful, wide eyes he’d ever seen, her brilliant red lips perfectly parted in shock.

  She knows, Dean realized.

  It wasn’t just a look of interest, it was a look of recognition, of instant understanding.

  It was interest, too, Dean thought breathlessly, and it was decidedly mutual.

  Her father was a lion shifter, and her nephew was, too; shifting wasn’t something that always bred true, but it wouldn’t be too crazy to assume she was one also.

  “The... car...”

  Dean had to grin, he couldn’t help himself. “There’s nothing wrong with it,” he said apologetically. “It was just a loose license plate.”

  Chapter 5

  Shelley had never spent much time thinking about weddings and true love and making babies like other girls. Wedding dresses, because she’d always loved fashion, but the whole idea of waiting around for the perfect guy only made her roll her eyes.

  She hadn’t even believed in mates until her father introduced her to his, and later casually mentioned that Shaun had married his as well. It was too ridiculous to bear.

  But here they were, and her lioness was growling with avid recognition, leaving no doubt in Shelley’s mind that this was her destiny, this was her mate.

  If she had ever bothered to imagine meeting her mate, it would not have been like this.

  She was sweaty and disheveled from having to walk to the diner, and she’d gotten unexpectedly caught in the arc of a sprinkler on her way back, so her jacket had water spots and her hair was limp.

  And the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on had just looked straight into her soul and was explaining to her that she was the biggest idiot in the entire sad state.

  “The... license plate?” she repeated. “The noise from my car was just a loose license plate?”

  “That’s all it was, ma’am,” he said, gazing back at her in a way that would have been creepy if it had been anyone else... or if she had not been staring back at him with equal avarice. “The bolts were loose and that’s the rattle you were hearing when you went over bumps. I... tightened them for you.”

  “Not ma’am,” Shelley squeaked. She didn’t want to be ‘ma’am’ to this man. “Shelley.” It sounded like a kid’s name to her ears. “Michelle.” Ugh, no, too formal. “Shelley. Shelley Powell.” She realized that he probably already knew her name, since she’d left it with her car key.

  She was not doing much to redeem her image of intelligence.

  “I’m Dean,” he answered, and he offered her a hand. “Dean James, not to be mistaken for James Dean.”

  Shelley laughed breathlessly. Dean could certainly have been a movie star, with his broad shoulders and strong jaw. She very slowly took his hand to shake and was instantly lost.

  If his gaze had left her knees feeling boneless, his handshake did things to parts not much higher, and her chest was suddenly too small for her lungs. She was dizzy, and excited, and... she was ready for this. This was coming home. Her lion was rumbling in delight.

  “So, you’re...” she started, just as he blushed beautifully and said, “I guess...”

  “You first,” she said swiftly, and by virtue of her speed, he was forced to continue.

  “Are you... a... ah... lion shifter like your nephew and your father?” he said with understandable hesitation. Being wrong about an assumption like that in a world where shifters were secret would have been a stunning mistake to bring up aloud.

  But this wasn’t a mistake. He was clearly feeling the same thing, the same crazy, perfect, stomach-dropping realization she was tumbling through. He was drinking in her gaze just as she was his, and they hadn’t let go of each other after the handshake. Their clasped hands hung just above the countertop. If the counter had not been between them, Shelley was not sure what they would be doing now, but she would bet that it would start with a kiss from those amazing lips, and once the thought occurred to her, she couldn’t shake it.

  “I am,” she finally remembered to confirm, because it seemed impossible that there was anything he didn’t know about her. “And... you?”

  “Bear,” Dean said faintly, like he was imagining the same kiss. “I’m... a bear. Grizzly.”

  It was the stupidest conversation, dragged out a stupid amount of time, because Shelley couldn’t keep a thought in her head that wasn’t kissing this man. “I’m a lawyer,” she said impulsively, then thought it sounded like she was bragging and blushed. “I mean... I just don’t want you to think I’m an idiot. Because of the... license plate.”

  “Happens all the time,” Dean lied kindly.

  “You’re just being nice,” Shelley told him suspiciously.

  “Yeah,” Dean agreed with a smile.

  “Do I owe you anything?”

  “No, no charge for tightening your... license plate.”

  They were still clasping hands over the greasy counter.

  “I’m never going to live this down, am I?” Shelley guessed sheepishly.

  “It’ll be one of those inside jokes that we have.”

  “You mean, it will actually be funny someday, instead of just horribly humiliating?”

  “I promise,” Dean breathed.

  There was a moment of silence, then they both tried to say, “So, you’re...”

  This time Dean was fastest. “You first.”

  “You’re my mate,” Shelley said boldly. It was thrilling to her own ears. This beautiful man, with his strong hands and his piercing eyes: he was hers.

  His grin was like a bolt of lightning. “That’s what I was going to say,” he said.

  “It’s... it’s nice to meet you,” Shelley said. Nice was so insufficient! “I... would you like to get dinner or something?” Dinner was the last thing she wanted to do with this man; she wanted to wrap herself around him and see if he tasted the way she was imagining.

  She let go of his hand, but only because he was coming around the counter, and she would finally be able to...

  “Daddy! Daddy!”

  Shelley stumbled b
ackwards instead of taking the step forward that she had intended.

  A curly-haired boy about the same age as Trevor bolted into the room like a whirlwind, smelling like leaves and mud puddles. He just missed crashing into Shelley’s legs, careening around her and wrapping himself around Dean possessively as the man bent and intercepted his hug.

  Shelley stared in horror.

  “You... have a kid?” she said hesitantly.

  “This is my son, Aaron.”

  Everything about the mood had changed. Dean was bristling protectively, his arms around the little boy, his gaze challenging.

  Shelley felt like someone had just hit her in the face, and she probably looked like it, too.

  Her mate... had a kid.

  Every brief, delirious fantasy she’d had about a life with Dean suddenly had a four-foot-high nope in the middle of it.

  Chapter 6

  Dean’s heart was somewhere near the pit of his stomach.

  He hadn’t missed the whiplash-fast change in Shelley—in his mate. Aaron’s entrance had turned what had been a moment of discovery and delight into something so stiff and awkward that Dean wondered that he was looking at the same woman.

  Shelley’s look of horror had faded behind a mask of distant disdain, and she was smoothing her jacket as if Aaron had somehow mussed it with his breakneck entrance.

  Dean could actually feel the dismay radiating from her.

  “How was your day at school?” he asked.

  “It was only a half-day,” Aaron scoffed. “Like Kindergarten for babies. It was stupid but I liked the games and we learned about mold and Trevor said a bad word and Clara fell down and skinned her knee and I’m starving.”

  It was, as usual, a moment before Dean could get a word in edgewise. “I brought granola bars,” he said.

  “The healthy kind?” Aaron asked skeptically, letting go of him at last. “I like the kind that Trevor gets with the chocolate chips.”

  “You get what you get—” Dean reminded him, standing up again.

  “—And you don’t throw a fit,” Aaron sighed. But he also muttered defiantly, “I still like Trevor’s better.”

  Dean was keenly aware of Shelley, watching them. She had backed up another step, as if she was afraid that Aaron had something contagious, and was playing with the buttons on her jacket nervously.

  He didn’t want her any less than he had before Aaron had interrupted them—his bear was still growling inappropriate suggestions in his ear—but the rest of him was in a whirlwind of protective instinct.

  It didn’t matter what his bear or his body said, she clearly considered Aaron a deal-breaker, and the only thing that Dean could do with that was watch her walk away before they got more invested.

  “Your car is ready to go,” he said, as coldly as he could manage.

  “Thank you for fixing my... er... license plate,” she replied, in exactly the same chilly, polite tone.

  “Any time.”

  There was a moment of stiff silence broken only by Aaron rummaging behind the counter for the promised granola bar.

  “My key,” Shelley finally said, just as Dean said, “Sorry, you’ll need your key.” It was sitting on the far side of the counter.

  He went behind the counter, stepping over Aaron, who was trying to put all the granola bars in his pockets, and handed it over to Shelley.

  She had to take a step closer, and she held her hand below it so that Dean could drop it into her palm with risking any brush of skin.

  Dean’s bear protested, but Dean let the key go, just as Aaron suddenly stood up, his mouth full of granola bar. “You’re Trevor’s niece!” he exclaimed, spewing crumbs onto the counter.

  “Aunt,” Shelley corrected, stepping back quickly with her key clutched in her hand. “He’s my nephew.”

  Aaron started to slurp his spewed crumbs off the counter and Dean was still watching Shelley’s face as she realized he was going to eat off the dirty surface.

  “Let’s toss those, kiddo,” he suggested swiftly.

  Aaron made a face, but let Dean sweep them off the counter into his hand and drop them into the trash can.

  When Dean looked up again, Shelley was still standing there, face unreadable, keys held so tightly in her hand that they must be biting into her palm.

  It suddenly struck him that it wasn’t only dismay that he was feeling from her. There was dismay, yes, and regret, and surprise, all in a knot of chaotic emotion. And underneath it all... fear.

  She was afraid of... Aaron?

  This was confirmed when Aaron went out from around the counter, staring at her, and she took an involuntary step back and shot Dean a quick, panicked look.

  “Trevor and I are in a SECRET club,” Aaron told her. “It’s SECRET. I can’t tell you about it.”

  “Didn’t you just tell me about it?” Shelley said scathingly.

  Aaron considered this.

  Dean was torn between wanting to throw her out of his shop and out of his life and wanting to laugh hysterically. “Hey Aaron, can you go hang out in the store for just a second? I need to talk to Trevor’s aunt.”

  “Okay!” Aaron said cheerfully. “Bye, Trevor’s aunt!”

  He tripped away through the door, holding all the extra granola bars in his over-laden pockets.

  “I’m sorry,” Shelley said hastily. “I’m... not... good with kids. It’s not... I mean, I don’t hate babies or anything. I just...”

  “You’re afraid of kids,” Dean finished when she couldn’t.

  He felt unexpectedly sorry for her, with her perfect outfit and her perfect hair, and the way she was fighting to keep her expression calm when he could feel how much fear she was hiding underneath her smooth demeanor.

  “They terrify me,” Shelley admitted. “Someone gave me a baby yesterday and I nearly cried. I’d be a terrible mom. Or step-mom. Not that I’m suggesting marriage, that’s crazy. Oh my god, are you married?”

  Dean couldn’t keep the wince from his own face and he knew that Shelley would assume the worst, so he hastened to explain, “No, not any more. Divorced. Five years.”

  Five godawful years, pretending he was heart-whole because he couldn’t bear to hurt the woman who’d destroyed his happiness.

  “Good,” Shelley said crisply. “I mean, not good that you... I mean... this is complicated enough already.”

  Dean got the impression that she wasn’t used to this kind of complication.

  “Dinner,” he reminded her. “Do you want to try dinner?”

  Shelley looked at him and a grateful smile cracked the ivory of the mask she was still trying to settle over her features. “Yes,” she said quietly.

  “Me and Aaron,” Dean said firmly. “We’re a package deal.”

  The smile froze in place, but she nodded anyway. “Is there a good place in town we can go?”

  “Neutral ground?” Dean said, unable to keep from teasing.

  The smile twitched back into life. “Neutral ground,” she agreed.

  “Gran’s Grits is really the only place in town,” Dean said. “It’s over past the post office at the corner across from the Presbyterian church.”

  “It’s not hard to find things in this town,” Shelley observed. “Tonight?”

  “Six okay? I like to get Aaron in bed by eight.”

  Shelley nodded. Was she blushing? “Six,” she said faintly, and then she nodded and smiled and Dean was positive she was blushing and it was absolutely adorable.

  “Six,” he echoed. “See you then.”

  “See you then,” she said softly, and for one beautiful moment Dean thought he might get the kiss he’d been imagining since they met.

  Then she cast a nervous look at the door to the shop and her face went abruptly careful and polite. She gave a crisp nod. Then her feet were clicking away over the floor and the door to the office was shutting behind her and Dean felt like the whole world had suddenly lost a lightbulb.

  Chapter 7

  “Bad news about
the car?” Tawny asked, opening the door for Shelley. “And you’re our guest, you don’t have to knock.”

  “Except on the bedroom door!” Shelley’s father, Damien, called from the living room.

  Tawny gave a smirk completely at odds with her ‘sweet old lady’ image. “Yes,” she agreed. “That’s probably a good idea.”

  “Oh, gross,” Shelley said, following Tawny into the house. “I assure you, I have no desire to barge into your bedroom.”

  “What’s wrong with the car, Shelley?” Damien asked.

  “Nothing,” Shelley said shortly. “It was just...” the most humiliating introduction to her mate that she could ever have imagined. “Would it be okay if I stayed a few more days?”

  “Of course,” Tawny said immediately.

  “Why?” Damien demanded.

  Shelley gave him a much more successful stoneface than she had managed with Dean. “I just need to figure some things out,” she said vaguely.

  Her father wasn’t fooled, but his return frown was a poor shadow of what a scowl would have been from him before Tawny had taken the reins of his heart. “Are you in some kind of trouble?” he asked at once. “Is it money? Does the car need repairs?”

  “It’s not money and the car is fine,” Shelley snarled back at him, stung. “I’m not a kid, Dad.”

  She stalked away to the kitchen, hoping that filling her empty stomach would make some dent in the hunger that Dean had awakened in her.

  The kitchen had nothing to tempt her, and Shelley found herself caught in familiar patterns of thought.

  She wasn’t the staggering billionaire that her father was, or even the successful millionaire that her brother Shaun was, but she’d done fine for herself; she was a successful contract negotiator for a major engineering firm and there were contractors and lawyers that trembled at the sound of her name. In some circles she was known as Shelley the Shark. She was on track for a comfortable early retirement, and had a luxurious standard of living. She was doing great.