Bear Faced Liar

by Alice Coldbreath

  “How was your day, honey?” Her voice was warm like syrup and made him shiver. He needed to calm the fuck down. Suddenly she seemed to notice his agitation “Are you okay?” she hesitated. “Is it your bear?”

  Close enough. He nodded shortly.

  “What do we need to do?”

  He shrugged. “Let him out for a while.”

  Her eyes flew wide. “Now?”

  “No,” he said firmly. “Tonight. I’ll go out for a spell. Don’t worry about it. Go on, tell me about your day. What did you do at lunch?”

  “Me and Billie went over to Misty’s and got some rolls. I had cheese. Billie had ham and tomato.”

  “Who’s Billie?”

  “She’s Lois’ daughter, she’s working part time at the beauty parlor while she decides what she wants to do with her life.”

  He cast his mind back. “The one with purple hair?” he frowned.

  “Only her bangs are purple. She’s sweet.”

  She’d looked sulky as hell to Jared, but he let that pass. “Lois is the hair stylist?” he asked.

  Pris nodded. “She’s great too. You should see how she’s cut Carole-Ann’s hair. She looks like a new woman. Did you get that last picture I sent you?”

  He nodded. Pris had sent him several photos throughout the day. In the last one Carole-Ann had been looking back over her shoulder with a pout and her hair tumbling down her back.

  “We were trying to get her to do some glamorous poses,” laughed Pris. “Bettina went home to fetch that two piece. It was an old one of hers from her attic.”

  Jared tried not to think of Bettina owning an attic full of risqué clothing. He cleared his throat. “Carole-Ann’s got a man, you know.”

  “She does?” said Pris in surprise. “She never mentioned him.”

  “He hasn’t claimed her yet,” he said abruptly.

  Pris hesitated, clearly not familiar with the term. “Is he a shifter?” she asked.

  “Yep. Bear. Name’s Grady. He works in timber on the mountain.”

  “And um – what does that mean? He hasn’t claimed her yet?”

  Jared pursed his lips. “He’s biding his time before he marks her. Concentrating on other stuff.” He flickered a glance her way and found her watching him intently.

  “Why would he do that?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Making money. He had a falling out with her kin. Guess he’s not in any sure-fire hurry to make her his.”

  Now Pris pursed her lips, clearly not approving. “Hope he hasn’t left it too late,” she said lightly.

  Jared frowned. “Nothing gets between a shifter and his mate, baby.”

  “Well it sounds like something did here,” she pointed out tartly. “A family falling out. Poor Carole-Ann,” she added softly. “Is he on Facebook?”

  He gave a short laugh. “Grady? Naw. He’s even more of a technophobe than me.”

  “Are you a technophobe, Jared?” she teased, placing a hand on his knee. “I notice you only send one text to my five!”

  His breathing hitched. He withdrew his hand from her neck to slide her hand to his thigh and thread his fingers through hers. “I’m learnin’ darlin’, so bear with me.”

  She smiled and faced forward at that, her hand resting on his leg. “That I can do,” she promised.

  There she went again. He was going to have to hit the forest tonight for a few hours in bear-form and distract himself from the fact she was lying in his bed, all sweet and warm and believing she was his.

  He exhaled. “Tell me some more about your day. Who were your clients after Carole-Ann?”

  She told him all about plucking Mrs Peterson’s eyebrows and the shade of lipstick that Louella Parsons insisted on buying even though it was all wrong for her coloring. Then she’d made over a clerk from the town hall and an old friend of Bettina’s who’d come in to buy some top coat for her nail polish. Then she told him all about how she and Bettina had gone through the Matinee product catalogue to order in the additional items she needed. It turned out they did do both eye primer and eyebrow gel. Bettina had put in a large order over the phone that the stockists had promised they would receive in three working days.

  Jared smiled wryly to himself.

  “What?” asked Pris noticing his amusement.

  “Nothing.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Guess you made that good first impression like you wanted.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “Bettina’s a pretty shrewd business woman.”

  They were pulling into the field with his trailer now.

  “Hopefully she liked me, but I don’t think Bettina makes snap judgements. I think she bides her time.”

  “Sometimes you can’t help it,” said Jared. “Sometimes instinct takes over.”

  “You mean, sometimes instinct overrides judgment?” she asked lightly.

  “In my experience? Nearly always,” he said heavily, and killed the engine.

  “Jared, is everything okay?” she asked quietly as they sat for a moment in the dark of the truck.

  “Yeah. Everything’s great, baby,” he lied. “Weren’t you gonna make me a home-cooked meal for dinner?”

  She pulled a wry face. “Well, I was going to make fajitas.”

  “Sounds good.”

  She smiled at him and took his damn breath away. With an effort he tore his gaze away to climb down out of the truck. By the time he’d moved round to her door she was climbing down and turning back for a shopping bag she’d set on the seat. He reached behind her and lifted it down.

  “I picked up a few more groceries at lunchtime,” she said lightly.

  Unable to help himself, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they walked to the trailer. When they reached the steps, she fished the key from out of her purse.

  He scanned the field behind them, his senses suddenly tingling. Sure enough, a small yellow car closely followed by a black truck came bowling through the gate some thirty seconds later, as Pris was climbing the steps inside.

  “Looks like your ride’s here,” he commented watching Bobby and Drake Shackleton climbing out of the vehicles. He passed the bag of groceries in to her and then waited while she dumped them on the side and came back down the steps. He took her hand in his and they made their way over to where the Shackleton brothers were waiting for them.

  “Sweet ride, Jared,” said Drake, his eyes roaming over Pris.

  “What’s that?”

  “He means your truck,” put in Bobby, hastily nodding towards Jared’s blue Dodge.

  Jared kept his eyes trained on Drake who eyed him nervously and adjusted his baseball cap. “The Dodge man, I meant the Dodge,” he mumbled. “Damn.”

  Pris wrapped an arm round his waist, leaning her weight into his side and he felt himself relax an inch.

  “Hi,” she said sweetly. “I’m Pris. Nice to meet you. I’m friends with your sister.” Wisely, she made no move from his side as he was feeling extremely territorial. He dropped a hand to rest against her ass and lightly squeezed.

  “Nice to meet you, Pris,” said Bobby giving her a grin.

  “You know Carole-Ann?” asked Drake in surprise.

  “That’s right,” she agreed cheerfully, though she made no effort to explain the whys and hows. “We’re BFFs.”

  “BFFs?” echoed Drake tipping his cap back to scratch his head. “Hell, I don’t think Carole-Ann had any female friends even back in school.”

  “She’s always been one of the boys,” agreed Bobby.

  “Not anymore,” Pris said firmly. “Now she’s one of the girls.”

  “That’ll be the day,” said Drake with a snigger.

  Their eyes were glued to Cristine, though they kept their gazes the right side of respectful he noted. If that changed, he’d see they regretted it the same instant.

  “Is this my new car?” asked Pris politely.

  They looked back at Jared.

  “For now,” he agreed, looking
the yellow rust bucket over. She deserved far better, but he’d get to that.

  “I love it,” she said. “It’s so jaunty.”

  “More like jaundiced,” he rumbled. Christine laughed. Damn, she had a great laugh. The Shackleton boys’ eyes were starting out of their heads now. Jared cleared his throat, “Maybe you want to get dinner on, while I sort this with the boys?” he suggested.

  “Sure,” she agreed easily. “Nice to meet you both,” she flashed them both a smile and turned around. Jared watched as she strolled back to the trailer. He wasn’t so happy when he turned back and found the Shackletons both avidly staring at her too.

  “Damn,” said Bobby. “She’s something else.”

  “Maybe we ought to get up to Royston sometime,” said Drake, settling his cap on the back of his head.

  “Yeah, maybe you oughta,” agreed Jared with a steely look.

  It was a good fifteen minutes later that he clambered into the trailer and found Pristine Christine happily sautéing vegetables on his stove. She beamed at him, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to walk over and kiss her, rest his hands on her hips and his chin on her shoulder. He had to hunker down to do it, for all she thought she was tall. His mouth watered being so close to that golden neck. Being around the Shackleton males had made him conscious his woman wasn’t marked. He could tell they’d wanted to ask why she wasn’t, but couldn’t quite work up the nerve. He breathed in her scent and closed his eyes. She smelled so good. She swayed and rested her back against his front.

  “You tired?” he asked. “Being on your feet all day?” She couldn’t be used to it.

  “No, not really,” she said, sounding surprised. “You’d think I would be, wouldn’t you?” She slid the spatula under the onions and peppers, turning them over. “These sandals you bought me are comfortable though.”

  “Mm,” he murmured. “That’s good.”

  She turned her head to look over her shoulder at him. “Tell me about your day.”

  He told her all about the secondary job he and Luke were working modifying an old house for a writer two towns over. They’d be back at The Heights the week after next, but he didn’t want to think about working for that asshole Harber again.

  “So you don’t just do new builds?” she asked with interest.

  “No, though I prefer it.”

  She added sliced zucchini to the pan and Jared moved to the sink to wash his hands before taking plates out of the cupboard and laying the table. Once he’d done that, he walked through to the bathroom and took a shower, washing the sawdust out of his hair and changing into a clean set of jeans and shirt. By the time he’d returned to the kitchen, Pris had added sliced mushrooms to the mix and seasoning and a bowls of refried beans, salsa, shredded cheese and sour cream were on the table.

  “Sit down,” she told him. “I’m about ready to serve up.” She squatted down and extracted a tray of potato wedges from the oven along with the warmed up tortillas. “It didn’t occur to me, until you pointed out to your aunt that I’m a vegetarian, but I didn’t buy any meat in the store.” Jared sat at the table while she plated up. “Sorry, guess I was on auto-pilot and used to just catering for one.”

  “That’s fine,” he said. “I had a burger at lunch.”

  “Really?” She looked relieved. “I mean, I can look up some meat dishes for you, but it’ll take a little work. I don’t think I know any.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Jared amiably. To his surprise, he found he really didn’t give a shit.

  “Plus, I’m not sure how to cook it,” she admitted. “And I don’t want to wing it and give you food poisoning.” She was sliding into the seat opposite him.

  “This is good,” he said spooning some beans onto his plate.

  “It’s okay for your bear?” she asked with a trace of anxiety.

  “Bears are omnivores, babe.” He gave her a crooked grin.

  “You’re easily pleased.”

  “In the kitchen,” he agreed.

  She coughed, and took a gulp of water. “That’s right, I forgot you didn’t pick me for my culinary skills,” she said weakly. He rolled up his loaded fajita and took a bite. Pristine was spooning some wedges onto her plate. “This is really good,” he said.

  “You’re impressed? First time I’ve cooked for you,” she reminded him.

  He nodded, remembering the tricked-out kitchen back at The Heights. Maybe it hadn’t been purely for show. He’d eaten his first in three bites and was already spreading sour cream on his second fajita. Pristine widened her eyes at him. “Wow, I thought I’d save half the vegetable mix for tomorrow,” she said, glancing at the pan on the stove.

  Jared quirked an eyebrow. “You were forgetting the bear’s appetite,” he said, shaking his head.

  She sprang up. “Let me put out the rest.”

  He’d devoured the entire panful in the next five minutes. She watched him in silent amazement.

  “I didn’t make dessert,” she said regretfully. “What’s your favorite?”

  “Apple pie.”

  “Okay, I’ll make that tomorrow.”

  “You can make apple pie?”

  Christine looked thoughtful, then nodded her head. “Pretty sure I can, yes.”

  “Is there anything you can’t do?” he asked.

  “Well, any kind of memory recall is a bit of an issue,” she reminded him with a faint smile.

  “I can live with that.”

  They cleared away, washed and dried together and then Pris sat with her phone watching Youtube tutorials on make-up again and making more notes. “I’ve got four more numbers on my phone,” she told him cheerily. “Bettina’s, Carole-Ann’s, Lois’ and Billie’s. Billie’s made a Facebook page for the beauty parlor. Oh, that reminds me,” she called out. “Do I have a Facebook account?”

  Jared paused. “No.” Would Christine Lascombe have a Facebook account? He had no clue.

  “Oh,” she sounded a little disappointed. “Any reason why I shouldn’t create one?”

  “Like what?” he asked cautiously.

  “We-ell, I was just thinking about those bad debts you mentioned…” she mumbled. “And me starting a new life.”

  He didn’t like seeing that strained look in her eye. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, Pristine.” He told her. “Don’t start thinking you’ve got some shady past you’re running from.”

  He saw her relax slightly. “So…if I started a new account calling myself Priscilla Hunt, it would be okay?”

  “Yeah,” he assured her. “If you want.” After all, what harm could it do?

  “Do you have a Facebook account?” she asked him.

  “No. Technophobe, remember?”

  “Oh yeah,” she rolled her eyes.

  “I’m going out for a while. Bear stuff,” he added at her enquiring look. She nodded. “Lock the door behind me. When I get back, we’ll watch a film together, yeah?”

  She perked up. “I’d like that.” She sent him a warm smile and then sat up straight and held her phone up above her head.

  “What’re you doing?” he asked, pausing by the door.

  “Taking a selfie for my Facebook profile. Actually – do you want to be in it?”

  He paused at that. Social media was not his thing, but it did hold some appeal. A couple’s photo for her profile pic would surely put any other bastards off.

  “Get in here,” she said, sensing him weakening and patting the seat beside her. She gave him an inviting smile. “You know you want to.” He slid onto the seat beside her and she angled her face up toward his, as if kissing his cheek, while snapping a photo. She showed him her phone. “What do you think?”

  Jared stared at the screen a moment. “Looks good,” he said, clearing his throat. He wasn’t lying.

  “I’m going to set it as my screensaver.” He watched as she set it in a frame of hearts and put some kind of weird coloration filter on it like a sepia tint. Did she have a phone back at Harber’s wit
h a screensaver like that of her and him? Weirdly, he just couldn’t imagine it. Christine Lascombe just didn’t seem like the kind of girl to have a screensaver of her kissing her man. He’d never seen even the slightest sign of affection between them. Not even hand–holding. “Everything okay?” she asked him, seeming to pick up on his mood change.

  “Yeah fine. You gonna to be alright here on your own, for an hour?”

  “Absolutely,” she said as her phone blipped. “You go and commune with your bear. Ooh, Facebook friend request from Lois.”

  “Lock the door behind me, Pris.”

  **

  Pris locked the door behind Jared, as instructed and watched him cross the field in long strides before he vanished into the woods at the far end of the field. Then she walked into the bedroom and changed her work clothes for some black stretchy yoga pants, a soft grey sweatshirt and a pair of fluffy socks. She took off her make-up, took down her hair and piled it on top of her head in a messy bun. Then she tucked her gladiator sandals under the bed and collected up their combined dirty laundry, stuffing it into a bag labelled ‘laundry’ that she found hanging on the back of the door. She would ask at work tomorrow where the laundromat was in town.

  Thoughtfully, she made her way through to the lounge area, and curled up on one of the sofa seats. It was a cozy space, but she couldn’t imagine fitting more than one of Jared into such a confined area. He really wasn’t built for small spaces. There were no knick-knacks or photos on display, no cushions or throws to personalize the room. Just a flat screen TV and a box with a movie-streaming service. Still, the sofas were a nice dark grey and were comfy, so she settled back and reached for the TV remote. Her phone buzzed over in the kitchen area, and Pris went to retrieve it. Idly, she wondered what Jared did with his phone and clothes when he transformed into his were-bear form. Did he hide them under a rock or in the hollow of a tree and hope nobody would make off with them?

  The alert was for another Facebook request, from Carole-Ann this time. Pris accepted it and then liked the Bettina Lorena page that Billie had set up. The young girl had done a nice job of posting pictures of the less shabby areas of the parlor interior, with a really nice shot of the vintage exterior as the Facebook header. Pris blinked when she saw how many likes Carole-Ann’s ‘after’ photo had gotten since that afternoon. Wow! She scrolled down the comments and was thrilled to see how many people were vowing to come in and make an appointment with her. Someone was replying conscientiously to all the comments, encouraging them to ring and book during opening hours. Pris couldn’t imagine that Bettina was familiar with Facebook, so did that mean that sulky little Billie was doing overtime on social media for the cause? If so, that was an impressive turn-around in attitude.