Smolder: A Werebear + BBW Paranormal Romance (Bearpaw Ridge Firefighters Book 2)

by Sexton, Ophelia

  He just wondered if he was going to scare Caitlyn off by moving too fast.

  "So I was wondering," Mark began, feeling absurdly nervous, like his sixteen-year-old self nerving himself up to ask a girl to the prom. "Did you book a place to stay in Bearpaw Ridge?"

  Caitlyn fidgeted with her phone. "No, and thanks for reminding me. This assignment came up in kind of a hurry," she said. "I figured I'd just find something when I got here…it's still off-season, right?"

  She swiped at her screen, clearly hunting for a hotel-booking app.

  "Well, I was thinking," Mark continued, wondering if she was going to look at him as if he were crazy in another minute, "I've got a guest room in my house out at the Grizzly Creek Ranch. It's not too far from town, and we're used to hosting hunters and fishermen there."

  It's just because I want to keep an eye on her, he told his bear. But even Mark didn't believe it.

  If this woman really was his fated mate, then his bear would continue to act up until the mating was a done deal.

  Mark wanted to rip his hair out with frustration at his dilemma. He found Caitlyn very attractive, sure, and she smelled great—but how could a woman he'd only just met be his fated mate?

  Mark had never believed in fated mates, anyway—the idea smacked of fairy tales and wishful thinking.

  But it didn't matter what he believed…because his bear was convinced that Caitlyn was the one, and it was clear that Mark wouldn't get a moment's peace unless he played along…at least for a while.

  * * *

  Even after pulling an all-nighter waiting for her in the ER, Mark was still damned good-looking and sexy.

  And he wanted to her stay at his place!

  Caitlyn's first reaction was an enthusiastic Yes!

  She definitely wanted to see more of this hunky firefighter…especially since it seemed like he might be a good lead into the Pemberton story.

  Then her natural caution seeped in. "I don't know—" she began.

  "Look, it's perfectly safe. My widowed mom lives at the ranch," Mark said persuasively. "And all the guest rooms have locks on their doors. It's a nice house—nicer than the Bearpaw Ridge Inn, which has really gone downhill since it changed owners last year." He grimaced.

  "Oh." Caitlyn considered this.

  The numbing shot she had gotten for the stitches was wearing off, and her head was beginning to throb with a dull ache. Her car was wrecked, and she could barely hobble along. And she was desperate for sleep.

  The very last thing she wanted to do right now was try to figure out where the nearest car rental place was and then drive around in a strange town in a strange car, trying to locate a motel somewhere.

  Mark's offer sounded great. And her gut was telling her that he was a good person.

  Besides, didn't Jake Zimmerman know him? And Jake had thought he was a pretty decent guy.

  Mark had just rescued her from an overturned car. And now he was rescuing her from another predicament. It was almost too good to be true.

  "You are a true-blue hero," she said. "And that's a really generous offer. Are you sure I wouldn't be imposing?"

  Mark grinned, and she noticed he had a dimple in one cheek, under the short beard. His eyes were fringed with sinfully long black lashes under straight black brows. "Positive. I'll even take you out to breakfast before we head out to the ranch."

  She smiled back, unable to resist the man standing in front of her. So what if he was essentially a stranger? Exhausted, in pain, and confronted with a man who was both chivalrous and sexy, Caitlyn felt she was willing to take the chance that he might actually be a serial-killing axe murderer.

  "Only if you let me treat you," she said. "And…thank you."

  "You have a deal." He offered his hand, and she shook it.

  His grip was warm and firm, and like before, the contact sent a pleasant shiver of sensation up her arm.

  Something occurred to her.

  "Um," she ventured. "Since you rode to the hospital with me in the ambulance…how are we getting back to Bearpaw Ridge?"

  Chapter Four – Interview with the Baker

  It was dawn by the time Caitlyn was discharged from the ER.

  While she was receiving her discharge instructions and waiting for the hospital pharmacy to fill her prescription for a painkiller, Mark phoned the only person he knew who would be awake and available at this hour, his sister-in-law Annabeth.

  He knew that Annabeth always arrived at her bakery long before it opened for business at 5:00 a.m. She spent the time prepping her famous cinnamon rolls, buttery croissants, and other tasty breakfast treats.

  Mark glanced at the time displayed on his smartphone, then dialed the bakery.

  Sure enough, the phone picked up on the third ring.

  "Cinnamon + Sugar, this is Annabeth," said a low, pleasant female voice.

  "Good morning Annabeth. This is Mark," he said.

  "Hi, Mark!" Annabeth said. She always sounded genuinely delighted to hear from him. "Is everything okay? Evan just stopped by for his morning coffee and roll, and he mentioned that you hadn't yet returned from last night's call. He mentioned you guys were called out to a bad car accident."

  "Everything's fine," he assured her. "But I need a favor. I'm in Salmon, and my friend Caitlyn and I need a ride home, if you can manage to get away. I know morning rush is probably in full swing right now," he finished apologetically.

  Caitlyn, who was fiddling with a pair of aluminum crutches she'd been issued, looked at him questioningly when he named her "friend."

  "Your friend…Caitlyn? Absolutely not a problem," declared Annabeth. "It's about time that Hannah and Jodie had their baptisms by fire. Having them handle morning rush on their own will be good practice before the baby's born and I have to take some time off."

  Mark's cousin Hannah had taken over as Annabeth's counter staff and barista last fall, when Hannah's older sister Kayla left Bearpaw Ridge last fall to begin a veterinary program at Washington State University.

  Jodie, another Swanson cousin, had been hired not long after as an assistant baker, to help Annabeth with Cinnamon + Sugar's booming wedding cake business.

  "Thanks a million, Annabeth," Mark said warmly.

  "No problem. I'll even bring coffee and some rolls. See you in about a half-hour," his sister-in-law said cheerfully and disconnected.

  Mark turned to Caitlyn. "I'm going to have to take a rain-check on breakfast. Annabeth said she's bringing some of her pastries. And coffee too."

  "Are they good?" Caitlyn asked hesitantly.

  "The best I've ever had. You're going to think you died and went to heaven," Mark assured her.

  They'd all had their doubts about the pastry chef from California when Annabeth arrived last spring to take over Frank Hermann's bakery. The old man had finally retired, like he'd been threatening to do for years, and had left Bearpaw Ridge to move closer to his grandkids in Arizona.

  But Annabeth had quickly won over the whole town with her delicious pastries and her warm, friendly personality.

  Within weeks of her arrival, everyone stopped asking, "How long do you think she's going to stay?" and began asking, "How can we make sure she doesn't ever want to leave?"

  Dane had been a goner from the moment he laid eyes on the pretty redhead behind the counter at Cinnamon + Sugar, and Mark had enjoyed teasing his big brother about being lovestruck.

  Still, Mark had been genuinely happy for Dane when Annabeth agreed to marry him…and when she was able to accept the truth about the existence of shifters.

  Mark occasionally felt a little jealous of Dane's luck in finding a mate like Annabeth, but the truth was, all the Swansons loved her. Even Mom, who had initially been wary of admitting an Ordinary into their shifter family.

  "Speaking of coffee," Mark said to Caitlyn, "can I get you some from the cafeteria while we wait for our ride?"

  Her face brightened. Even with all the bruising, she had a breathtaking smile. "You have no idea how much I could
use a cup of coffee right now."

  Mark smiled at her. "Well, I don't know about that. I'm not really a morning person, and nothing in my life would ever get done before noon if I didn't have my espresso machine."

  Caitlyn's smile widened. "I like you already," she confided, and her words, though joking, sent a small burst of warmth spreading through Mark's chest. "Cream, no sugar?"

  "Just the way I like it," he told her and turned to head for the cafeteria.

  As he walked down the corridor, he realized he was smiling.

  * * *

  Caitlyn had just finished her coffee, which helped revive her after a very long day of driving followed by an even longer night of car crashes and emergency rooms, when Mark's phone buzzed.

  He glanced at it. "Annabeth's here. Do you need help getting to the exit?"

  Caitlyn perked up at his words. She had been wondering if this could possibly be the same Annabeth mentioned in Roger Pemberton's court records.

  It would be an amazing stroke of luck if she was, on top of all of the other pieces of luck so far tonight. Caitlyn wondered if Annabeth wouldn't mind being interviewed for her article.

  Even if the bear shapeshifter part of the story didn't pan out, "woman in peril" always attracted readers' interests. Caitlyn could always lead with a hook about a reported bear shifter, then develop the story with the angle of "crazy stalker targets young, pretty pastry chef…"

  Mark was still waiting for her answer. Caitlyn forced her thoughts back to her present situation.

  She glanced at the crutches, which were leaning against the wall next to her seat in the ER waiting room, and sighed.

  "I'll manage," she told Mark, not wanting to look weaker than necessary.

  "I could sweep you up in my arms and carry you outside," he offered, with a heart-stopping grin and a joking flex of his biceps. "See, I'm pretty strong."

  "I can see that," Caitlyn said, trying not to drool at the sight of all that sculpted muscle. "But I'm a big girl—in more ways than one," she added self-deprecatingly.

  "I think you're just the right size," Mark said, and there was genuine appreciation in his hazel eyes. The kind of appreciation that Caitlyn had only rarely seen in a string of failed dates with men who mostly wanted a woman as slender as a supermodel. "I like a woman with some real curves."

  He rose while she was still reeling from that remark and came swiftly to stand in front of her. He scooped up her messenger bag and the paper bag containing her prescription, and offered her a hand up.

  She stood, winced as she put her weight involuntarily on her ankle, and swayed.

  Before she could protest, Mark swept her up in his arms as easily as if she were made of air and feathers, grabbed her crutches, and headed towards the sliding glass doors with long strides.

  The big man holding her was very warm, and he smelled wonderful, with just the faintest trace of aftershave or cologne over clean, healthy male. Caitlyn looped one arm around his neck and decided to enjoy the experience.

  How on earth is this guy still single? You’d think someone would have snapped him up in a heartbeat!

  They passed Raymond in the registration area. He had been so sweet and reassuring with her, as had Dr. Jacobi, the ER doctor, and the X-ray techs.

  "Raymond, thank you for everything," she said, as he glanced up.

  "My pleasure, ma'am. I'm glad you're okay." The young Asian man grinned at Mark and bent to reach behind the counter. He retrieved the plastic backboard and the vest-like KED that Caitlyn had been strapped into when she arrived.

  "Mark?" he asked, still grinning. "Don't forget these."

  "My hands are a little full right now," Mark replied. "Do you mind following us out?"

  "Of course not," Raymond said. "I'm on my meal break, anyway."

  He matched Mark's quick stride towards the exit.

  As they left the building, emerging into the chilly predawn air, Caitlyn saw that the sky was turning a silvery-gray color behind a line of rugged mountains.

  There was a blue Prius waiting in the Pick-up/Drop-off zone, and Mark headed for it.

  At his approach, a pretty, very curvy woman emerged from the car. She was dressed in checked trousers and a flour-dusted bright blue chef's coat. Her mass of curling strawberry-blonde hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and she had a 1000-watt smile.

  "Sorry to keep you both waiting. I came as soon as I could," she said.

  She looked at Caitlyn, and her smile brightened even further. Her big blue eyes crinkled at the corners. "Hi, I'm Annabeth Jones Swanson. You must be Mark's friend Caitlyn?"

  Annabeth Jones. That had been the name in the court records!

  Caitlyn tried to suppress her surge of excitement at the lead that Fate had handed her so unexpectedly.

  "Yes, I'm Caitlyn. Caitlyn Morgan," said Caitlyn, suddenly feeling self-conscious about the big bandage plastered across her forehead. In another couple of hours, she was going to look like she'd been on the losing end of a bar brawl. "Thank you so much for giving me a ride."

  "I heard about the accident from Evan. You poor woman—I'm so glad you weren't badly hurt or killed," Annabeth said, her smile fading. "How do you know Mark?"

  "I don't, not really," Caitlyn confessed. "I only just met him, when he—and the others, of course—saved my life."

  Annabeth's brows shot up, though her expression remained friendly. She looked at Mark with an air of inquiry.

  "It wasn't quite that bad," Mark said, and Caitlyn could swear he looked embarrassed.

  "It was," Caitlyn insisted. She looked at Annabeth. "My car ended up upside-down at the bottom of a really steep slope. Mark's a genuine hero."

  "He is," Annabeth said warmly.

  Mark was definitely squirming now.

  Annabeth continued, "And you were very lucky. That sounds like a horrible accident." She turned her smile on Raymond, who was waiting behind them, still holding the backboard and KED. "Good morning. Would you like a fresh cinnamon roll? I brought extras…"

  "Say no," Mark advised him. "I don't want to share."

  "Mark!" Annabeth said indignantly and slapped him lightly on the arm.

  Raymond grinned and said, "Thanks! That would be great. I was just telling Mark that I'm on a meal break."

  He propped the backboard and KED against the back of the Prius and took a large, generously frosted roll from the bakery box Annabeth offered him. "Thanks!"

  Prize in hand, he turned to go back inside. "Don't forget to ice and elevate that ankle, Caitlyn," he said over his shoulder.

  "With service like this, I don't think I'll have any problems staying off my feet," she replied, gently patting the back of Mark's neck.

  * * *

  With some bemusement, Caitlyn realized that Mark wasn't going to allow her to slide out of his arms in preparation for getting into the Prius.

  Instead, he stooped, still behaving as if Caitlyn's generously sized body weighed nothing, and neatly put her into the front passenger seat, settling her in without putting any pressure on her injured ankle.

  He even drew the seatbelt over her and fastened it before stepping back.

  "I see you're getting the red carpet treatment," Annabeth said, with a knowing smile that brought heat to Caitlyn's face.

  She ducked inside the car briefly to put the box of pastries on Caitlyn's lap, then closed the passenger door.

  Then Annabeth walked around to the back of the car and opened the Prius' rear hatch.

  As Mark loaded the crutches, backboard, and KED, and Annabeth poured coffee from an insulated jug into a pair of empty travel mugs she'd brought with her, Caitlyn pondered her present situation.

  She'd lived alone since graduating from college and wasn't used to having anyone else do anything for her.

  It felt…nice. Strange, but really nice.

  Especially when one of the people doing the coddling was a big, extremely hunky man.

  Who's apparently interested in me.

  She could
n't possibly be that lucky, though. She never was…except for tonight, when she'd somehow managed to escape both death and serious injury.

  And here she was, sitting in a car surrounded by mouthwatering smells of coffee, freshly baked bread, cinnamon, and vanilla, and feeling truly safe for the first time since she'd seen the news report about Richard Montoya's death.

  Annabeth got behind the wheel and gave Caitlyn a long, searching look as Mark opened the rear door and made himself comfortable in the back seat.

  She handed Caitlyn one of the travel mugs. "This is for you, by the way. Cream, no sugar…right?"

  She winked, and Caitlyn felt fresh heat on her cheeks. Mark remembered!

  Annabeth started the car and pulled smoothly away from the curb.

  They headed out of town just as the sun rose over the snowcapped line of mountains to the east.

  The brick buildings lining Salmon's main street rapidly petered out to scattered businesses. Then they were driving through farmland.

  It was a pretty drive, with sunlight glowing through the mist rising from wide green pastures on either side of the highway. Caitlyn saw a herd of elk in one fenced pasture, grazing peaceably alongside horses still shaggy with their winter coats.

  Another field hosted a flock of long-legged, long-necked elegant sandhill cranes stalking slowly down rows of newly plowed furrows in search of food.

  Everything looked much greener and lusher here than it had been in the southern part of the state, where Caitlyn had been driving when twilight fell yesterday. Darkness had concealed the landscape after that, as she drove steadily north towards Bearpaw Ridge.

  Caitlyn pulled a cinnamon roll out of the box and took a bite. Sweet, spicy, buttery perfection filled her mouth.

  "Oh my God," she said around a scrumptious mouthful. "These are amazing!"

  Annabeth dimpled. "I'm so glad you like them. I figured they would probably taste better than breakfast from the hospital cafeteria."

  "Pass that box back here when you're done," Mark invited.

  Twisting awkwardly, Caitlyn did so.

  "So, where are you staying in Bearpaw Ridge?" Annabeth asked, after they had driven in silence for a few more miles, giving Caitlyn a chance to finish the huge roll and drink half of the excellent—and mercifully strong—mug of coffee. "Not the Bearpaw Ridge Inn, I hope."