Babs chuckled at her and gripped her shoulder, looking down into Ginger’s eyes. “You will make the right choice, in the end. They always do,” she said, winking, a grin on her lips.
Babs patted Ginger on the back and quickly said goodbye before she disappeared out the front door of the restaurant. Ginger breathed out a deep sigh, feeling her chest tighten up.
She was being kind of a jerk to Brock. Even though he’d never said a negative word to her. She gazed out the window and saw him walking up the sidewalk toward her. He waved when he saw her, and a moment later slid into the seat Babs had just vacated.
“Hi,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“I just got a text from Babs to come down here ASAP. Now I see why,” he said. He looked so cute in his gray waterproof jacket, black beanie hat, and dark jeans. He had a day or two of stubble on his chin and his green eyes glinted when he looked at her.
“She was just talking to me about us,” Ginger said.
“Oh? What about?”
“Brock, I’ve been a jerk. I feel like I’m using you at this point.”
“Ginger, don’t talk like that. Everything I’ve done for you has been my pleasure. Don’t even mention it. There was something I wanted to ask you anyway. The family is having a barbecue tonight. Would you like to come up to the lodge and meet everyone? My mom is making her famous BBQ ribs.”
“That sounds really good,” she said, hesitantly.
“I think it’s time for you to meet my family. You can get a taste of what you’re in for with them.” He chuckled, but Ginger could tell he was nervous behind the bright white grin. Why was she doing this to him? She suddenly felt selfish. Nevertheless, at the same time, meeting his family was terrifying.
“I’d love to come meet the family,” she said, half lying.
“Great. I’ll pick you up at six. I’ll see you then, okay babe?”
“Yeah.”
He leaned down and kissed her cheek. They hadn’t slept together since the night they’d come down off the mountain. Brock hadn’t pressed her and she hadn’t offered. Trying to untangle her feelings and her life was hard enough without adding sex into the mix.
But when he kissed her cheek and smiled so sweetly at her, she wanted nothing more to than to feel his body move over her again.
Chapter Sixteen
Later that evening, after Ginger had dressed in a warm sweater, dark jeans and a pair of leather boots, Brock came to the door of the small room she’d rented in downtown Juneau.
She’d straightened her hair, and it hung in big, soft curls around her shoulders. Brock’s eyes widened when he saw her. “You look nice tonight,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her cheek.
“Thanks, so do you.”
Brock’s muscular frame was shown off by the black jeans and dark sweater he wore. She could smell the scent of his skin and sweet breath when he’d kissed her. Her body lit up at his touch. She reached out to him and pressed her hand to his chest, coming closer.
He reached in and circled his arm around her waist, pulling her against him. Brock swept her jaw up in his hand and tilted her face toward him, planting a passionate kiss on her mouth. Desire melted all over her and she kissed him back.
When he drew away, he took her hand. “Do you need anything else?” he asked her.
“No, this is everything.”
They walked outside into the cool evening. The twilight colors over the bay and the mountains beyond the town swept across her vision. Stars already twinkled in the night sky. She could smell the ocean blowing up from docks, and smiled into the breeze.
Being here in Alaska with Brock was beginning to warm her heart. The devastation of losing her father and her home in the span of a few days was beginning to soften. In that moment, holding Brock’s hand, she could see a way to a better kind of life.
They drove out of town and onto the road leading to the Montgomery homestead and to the lodge. There were cars and trucks parked all over the front of the lodge. There hadn’t been a single car there the day Ginger had spent the night.
A violent wave of terror hit her when she opened her car door. This was Brock’s shifter family. They all had that in common. They all had fated mates whom they knew upon first meeting. Did they know that she was Brock’s fated mate? She didn’t know if she could take all of their searching eyes.
Brock took her hand and smiled at her. “You ready for this?” he asked. “The Montgomery clan can be really intense.”
She stopped and turned to him. “How bad is it?”
“Well...they’re great. I know you’re going to love them. Just don’t let them frighten you off.”
“What? How?” she asked, but it was too late, Brock had already opened the door.
As soon as they walked through, a gaggle of massive grizzly men and a few beautiful, curvy older women came toward them. Everyone spoke all at once.
“This is Ginger, everyone,” Brock said with a slightly raised voice.
They all quieted down when Brock spoke. “Ginger, this is everyone. My mom Nora and my dad Clark.” A man, looking like an older version of Brock, and a pretty, dark haired woman with soft green eyes, stepped forward.
His father shook her hand and his mother hugged her affectionately. Ginger felt instantly at ease with them, even though she wasn’t used to such a big family.
As they walked further into the party, Ginger took in all the other young Montgomery men. She’d met Shaw when James had been arrested. Brock introduced her to his brother Tate next. Tate ran his hand through his dark brown hair that hung over one eye.
“Hi Ginger, it’s nice to meet our clan leader’s new mate,” Tate said.
Brock growled beside her and she looked up at him to see a scowl disappear into a smile. “Tate likes to say inappropriate things to our guests.”
Tate was as tall as Brock and with slim muscles. He was younger and had a wounded look in his eyes.
“Did you know he was the clan leader?” Tate asked, lifting a beer bottle to his lips.
“I did,” Ginger said. “He told me. What he didn’t tell me was that everyone knew I was his mate.”
“I told Mom,” Brock said. “Word travels. Sorry.”
“It’s fine. I get it.”
“Someone get the girl a beer,” another voice said, stepping forward. The man who spoke was just as hot and rugged as his brothers, but his shirtsleeves were rolled up to show a riot of tattoos. His face had the beginnings of a beard and he had a devil-may-care look in his eye. He thrust a beer into Ginger’s hand.
“And that is my brother, Keaton,” Brock said.
“I’m the backbone of this family,” Keaton said.
“I thought that was me, considering I helped built all your houses,” a blond, blue eyed man with the Montgomery features said. He was introduced as Zane, a cousin.
“Montgomerys have been ranching these lands for a hundred years. That’s the foundation of our entire way of life,” Keaton said.
“Construction employs half the clan,” Zane said.
“Guys, can we give it a rest in front of my guest?”
“It’s not like greenhouses and gardens don’t provide for the family,” Tate said.
Brock scooped his arm around her waist and led her away from his bickering brothers and cousin.
“Sorry about them,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
Ginger sipped her beer. She was beginning to feel more relaxed. The Montgomery brothers were intense but they seemed kind of charming.
“Do you think you could deal with these guys all the time?” he asked her.
“Maybe,” she said coyly.
Brock brought her to the buffet already set out, and they heaped home cooked food on their plates. BBQ rips, baked potatoes, chili, salads, fruits, and mac and cheese. Ginger took some of everything and sat down at the table beside Brock.
The family began to gather around the long Sitka spruce table in front of a flickering fire in the stone hea
rth. Everyone chattered. The children of extended family played in the corner. A baby burbled nearby. Aunts, uncles, and cousins gossiped around them about this and that going on in the clan.
Ginger felt a sense of warmth and togetherness from the animated crowd of Montgomerys that filled her heart with gladness. A smile stretched over her mouth and she couldn’t stop. Brock’s mother leaned forward across the table and asked Ginger about her father.
“He was a good man. He taught me to play violin.”
“Brock said you were a musician. How wonderful. You’ll have to play for us some time.”
“I don’t have an instrument,” she said, dismissing the subject.
“I’m sure we could find one.”
“Mom,” Brock said, interrupting her. He shook his head “no.”
“What?” Nora asked, making an exaggerated expression of irritation, her green eyes blazing.
“It’s okay. I hurt my hand while taking care of my dad. I can’t play like I used to. It didn’t heal well.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. That’s terrible. You know what? I bet there is something that can be done about that,” Nora said.
“Mother, let’s save that for another time?”
Ginger looked from his mother to Brock and back again, and decided not to ask what they were talking about. Nora had said something could be done about her hand. What could possibly be done at this point? The crushing injury had torn her ligaments. She didn’t have the same control she once did, and she doubted she ever would again.
Brock changed the subject to a conversation with Keaton about providing more beef for the lodge during the upcoming season. Ginger listened as the men talked about the running of the Montgomery family businesses. She was impressed by their mastery of so many things.
Each Montgomery had their own niche that helped contribute the clan and the community as a whole. The conversation moved to talk of shifter disputes and the Shifter Council’s decisions about topics Ginger didn’t understand. It seemed like a lot of different shifters lived in and around Juneau and it made her wonder who else in town was a shifter and what type they were.
When everyone finished eating, they all helped clean the table and bring the dishes into the kitchen. The whole clan cleaned up and then opened more bottles of wine and rum. They drank over slices of baked Alaska with strawberry ice cream.
All the food and company was so welcoming, even when Nora had asked about her playing. Ginger felt right at home with them. Some of the men started a game of darts in the corner near the fireplace. Ginger watched as Brock beat his cousins and uncle. She cheered for him, holding her nearly empty glass of red wine.
With a smile so wide her face hurt, she turned to Brock’s younger brother Tate. He held a wine bottle. He filled her glass half way and set the bottle aside, holding his own glass.
“I heard what my mom was talking to you about earlier,” Tate said, swirling the wine in his glass.
“About my hand?” Ginger asked him.
“Yes. That can be healed. No problem. We all know how.”
“Even Brock?”
“Yes.”
“How? Tell me.”
“If someone changes you, you get a bear inside you, like the rest of us. It will heal you. Fix any problems you’ve got, right up.”
“That can’t be possible.”
“You saw Brock heal a bullet wound in twenty four hours. Just imagine what that healing power could do for your hand.”
“I never thought about it. I never imagined.”
“But Brock would have to change you. Make you a shifter.”
“Like him.”
“Like all of us. I’m not saying it’s an easy choice. Sometimes I think I’d rather be human.”
“Why?”
“Maybe it would be easier that way. Humans are less...attached to each other than shifters are. I speak from experience.”
“Oh. I can see your point.” She bit her lip, thinking of Brock and how attached he was to her already. She couldn’t decide if this was right or not.
“If Brock changed me, then I could play violin again.”
“The thing is, he’s not going to do that unless he claims you, too. Makes you his mate forever. It’s like marriage but deeper. For shifters, it’s what binds mates together for life.”
“I had a feeling it was something like that.”
Tate looked straight at her, his green eyes blazing. “If you don’t want to be his mate, tell him now. Don’t string him along. Just tell him and leave. Clean break.”
“I don’t want to hurt him. Believe me.”
“I know you don’t,” Tate said, patting her back and walking away just as Brock returned to her.
“What was Tate talking to you about?” Brock asked.
“Nothing.”
“I don’t want my emo brother scaring you off with his melodrama.”
“It’s nothing like that. He was just giving me some useful information about shifters. Things like healing and mating. Stuff he thought I should be aware of.”
“Like what?”
“I’d rather talk about this in private, Brock. We have to figure out what is the best thing for both of us.”
Chapter Seventeen
Brock drove Ginger back to his house so they could talk about what Tate had told her. She had to make up her mind. She had to figure out what she really wanted, and she needed Brock’s help to do it. They went into Brock’s comfortable house and snuggled on the couch by the fire.
After spending the evening with Brock family and meeting on all of his brothers and cousins, Ginger had a much better understanding of who Brock really was. She wished that he could have met her father so that Brock could have the same understanding of her. As it was, knowing Brock’s family meant a lot to her. She could see where he got some of his personality traits and his looks.
Brock fixed them both cups of herbal tea, and they watched the flames flicker in the stone fireplace in front of them.
”So what was Tate talking to you about back at the party?” Brock asked her before taking a sip of tea.
His muscular warm arm curved around her shoulders, making her feel protected and secure. She wasn’t sure how to tell him about what Tate had said because she was still confused about what she really wanted. If Brock could shift her and heal her hand, then she could have her career back in New York playing classical music for an orchestra.
But being changed by Brock carried a lot of baggage with it. If she were to be changed she would become a bear herself, and her bear would need the wilderness. If Brock were to change her, he would want to claim her. Tate had said as much. And she knew it would be unfair to expect anything else from him.
“Tate told me that if you changed me into a bear it would heal my hand.”
“He told you that?” Brock said, shaking his head. He sat down his tea and had an irritated expression on his face that Ginger new was meant for his brother Tate.
“I think he was just trying to help.”
“I don’t need Tate’s version of help.”
“I think he was trying to help both of us. He warned me about breaking your heart.”
“He did that, did he?”
“Well, is it true?” she pressed.
“It is true, but that doesn’t mean Tate should be going around telling you that changing you is a solution to all of our problems.”
“What problems?” Ginger asked. She knew they had problems--namely that he was a shifter and she was a human. That meant that he knew they were meant to be together and she did not. She just wanted to hear him say it.
“Ginger, you know I want to be with you more than anything. But I’m not going to pressure you or manipulate you into choosing me. And I thought telling you about the healing properties of being changed would be a kind of manipulation. I don’t want you to choose me for any other reason than to be with me.”
“I understand. I feel exactly the same way, and that’s why this is so hard for me. I do
n’t want you to want me just because of some instinct. I want you to want me because of who I am.”
“That’s the thing Ginger. I do want you for who you are, and because of my instinct. They’re one and the same.”
“Tate said that if he changed me, you would want to claim me.”
“Usually, for couples it happens at the same time--on their wedding night or when they decide to marry.”
“And you want to do it?” she asked him, feeling her heart trembling in her chest.
This was new ground for them--they had never discussed either claiming or changing her. Brock had been giving her as much space as she needed, and their romantic relationship had become friendly, if not detached. Part of her wanted that same intensity that they’d felt up on the mountain, but she knew Brock’s easy-going attitude toward her was what was best for the situation. He didn’t want to pressure her into making any decisions, and she appreciated that more than anything.
“Of course I do,” he said. “There’s nothing I want more. Having you, claiming you, giving you your bear--those things would bring me so much fulfillment. To know that your body is healthy and strong, seeing you carry our cubs inside your belly, spending the rest of my life with you. I can’t imagine anything better.”
“I wish I had your confidence. I guess I’m not used to being so attached to people. It was just me and my dad for so long, and now he’s gone. It’s hard for me to connect to other people after all that.”
“I hope my family didn’t scare you off,” he said.
“No. Your family is great. I really like them. They made me feel much more welcome than I had expected.”
“So it’s me you’re not sure about?”
Ginger sucked a deep breath into her lungs and slowly let it out as she turned to face the window. She watched fall leaves fly outside, their orange and yellow colors caught in the glow of the porch light. Emotions swirled in her belly that she couldn’t fully understand.
She wanted to put Brock’s mind at ease, and calm her own anxiety. The last thing she wanted was to lose him. But she just didn’t know if she could accept all he had to offer.
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