by T. S. Joyce
Brighton clapped him on the back so hard it rattled his innards. Right. Back to earth. He settled the guitar case in the back of his old beat-up Bronco and slid behind the wheel. His brother was grinning from ear to ear by the time the engine roared to life.
“What?” Denison asked.
Brighton lifted his eyebrows and shrugged.
“Did you like that little show? Me running after her like a puppy, making a fool of myself? Well,” he said, backing out of the parking space Ted had reserved for talent with a hand-painted sign, “I feel like grit now.”
The two-hour trip back was brutal on account of Brighton leaning back the seat and promptly falling asleep, leaving Denison to try and stay awake without company the entire drive through the mountains. Which meant two hours of summer-kissed, swimming-hole memories with Danielle. He’d watched her open up that season, from a timid bookworm to a woman. He’d thought she was forever, but he’d been wrong. And now, the same devastating hole that had sat in his stomach for a year after she left was back, eating him from the inside out. God, he wished she would have just stayed away. That look on her face when she was crying in the parking lot, like he’d killed her kitten… How was he supposed to get that vision out of his head? Her face all crumpled and tears streaking her cheeks, making dark smudges of sadness under her eyes. And her hands…Dammit, he’d had to fight not to Change and clean her wounds. Her knees had been trickling red, but she didn’t seem to care at all. All she seemed to care about was getting as far away from him as she could.
He’d replayed their last day together over and over, but he still couldn’t figure out what he’d done to piss her off so badly that she’d leave and never come back. Never call or write, or hell, send a damned carrier pigeon. Poof! She just vanished, leaving his bear unmanageable and littering his chest cavity with little shredded pieces of his heart.
And that was the autumn he had sworn off women forever. Brighton had the right of it all along. Don’t let women get close, and they couldn’t hurt him. Not like Danielle had. Never again.
When he finally pulled under the Asheland Mobile Park sign at the entrance of a double row of trailers the Ashe crew inhabited, he was just about dead on his feet.
Brighton stumbled off to his own house without so much as a wave, and Denison dragged his guitar case up the porch stairs and inside his trailer. He poured a drink from the tap, but the water was a little on the brown side from the pipes not being used all day, so he dumped the glass and let the sink run for a minute before he tried again. Tasted a little dirty, but Dad always said that a little grit in his food would put hair on a man’s chest. Whatever that meant. From his experience, women didn’t much prefer heavy pelts.
Danielle had preferred him smooth when they’d gotten to the bedding portion of their relationship. He remembered the way she’d run her hands across his torso, petting him and tethering his animal to her even more, like some spell caster securing his bond. She’d had soft hands compared to his calloused ones. And incredible tits. All round with those perfect pink nipples drawing up hard anytime his lips touched them and… Shit. His dick was already swollen and thumping against the seam of his pants.
Denison chugged the water and rinsed the glass. It did no good thinking about her finer qualities. It just made the hole in the pit of his stomach yawn open a little wider. He wouldn’t ever have her again. That much was clear from the way she had looked at him when she’d been in the jeep. Like it hurt to lay her eyes on him.
He jerked open the drawer of odds and ends and dug through to the back before finding what he was looking for. Three photographs were all he had of his time with Danielle. He hadn’t looked at them in three years on principle. He wiped dust off a close-up picture of her kissing his cheek as he smiled at the camera. The second was of Danielle swinging on an old tire he’d tied from a giant pine tree in the backyard of the cabin he’d shared with Brighton at the time. Bright red gloss painted her lips, and she wore a matching knee-length summer dress that billowed out as she swung. Fucking gorgeous. The third had been his favorite, though. It was of her and Brighton leaned back on their elbows in tall meadow grass, lying in the sun with their eyes closed and heads tossed back. She wore a white sundress with little cherries on it. He traced the arc of her neck with his fingertip and grimaced at the pain in his chest.
Then he thought about burning the pictures over the stove, like he had contemplated doing a hundred times. Maybe if they didn’t exist anymore, if they didn’t sit in that drawer haunting him, maybe the pain would stop and he could forget about her. But just like every other time, he decided against it. If he got rid of the only thing he had left of her, he’d be truly alone. And that seemed somehow worse than the pain of losing her.
Whatever reason she’d thought of to come back, he wished she’d hurry up and leave so he could start getting over her again.
****
An ear-splitting racket filled Danielle’s ears, and she hunched in on herself. When she was buried deep within the warm wrinkles of her blanket, she cracked an eye open. The noise began again. She lurched up and tossed the covers away from her. The cell phone clattered across the tiny nightstand by her bed as it screamed again. Why the devil had she picked that hideous ring tone?
“Hello,” she croaked into the receiver.
“Ms. Clayton,” Mr. Reynolds purred. “Are we still asleep?”
“Uhh.” She squinted at the blurry, battery-operated alarm clock next to her bed. “Not anymore. I thought I wasn’t starting until Monday.”
“I assume you’ve settled in nicely to the rental I’ve given to you?”
She looked around the swanky, refurbished Airstream RV and nodded a tangled lock of hair out of her face. “Yes, sir, I have. It’s much nicer than I imagined it would be when you hired me.”
“Good. Then you won’t mind starting your research a little bit early. I’m on a bit of a time crunch, I’m afraid.”
“To discover the solution for the beetle infestation?” It was definitely going to take more than two extra days to solve the fiasco that had killed off the trees in the area.
“Your counterpart, Darren, is already on his way into the wilderness as we speak. Do take his enthusiasm and allow it to affect yours.”
“Sir, I’m very enthusiastic about this job. I’m sorry for the miscommunication, but I specifically remember you saying I was to start on Mon—”
“Ms. Clayton,” Reynolds snapped. “I have no patience for excuses. If you want this job, and if you want to be paid for this job, you will start today.” He sighed into the phone. “Now that we have that cleared up, I’ve decided to partner you with someone who knows the area.”
“Wait, what? This was supposed to be a lone job, and we were supposed to exchange notes in weekly meetings to bring you our findings. Darren and I can cover more ground if we work separately.”
“I didn’t say anything about you working with Darren. You’re to be working with Denison Beck. I’ve been told you’re already familiar with him.”
Her mouth dropped open, and she frowned so hard her face hurt. Nope. Hell no to that. She scrunched up her nose and closed her eyes to ward away the oncoming headache Mr. Reynolds was proving to be. “I’m not working with that man. He holds no value to the job I’m doing, and we don’t get along. If I must work with someone, fine. Choose anyone on the planet besides him. Please.”
“You seem to think this is a suggestion. It’s not. I’ll text you the address you are to meet him at and any pertinent information. Have him show you around his territory.”
“His territory? Excuse me for asking, but what does that mean? He’s a townie.”
“Not anymore.”
Danielle viciously fought the urge to strangle the phone. She gritted her teeth so hard, her jaw hurt, then tried again. “Mr. Reynolds, I’ve been very excited about joining in on this research for you, but this wasn’t part of the job description.”
“Are you backing out?”
“No
. Maybe.” She flopped back on the bed in a star-like shape. “Can I have until Monday, my original start-date, to decide on whether to continue with your request? Denison and I have history. The relationship is complicated, and I hadn’t expected to spend any substantial amount of time with him.”
Another long, irritated sigh blasted across the phone speaker. “That would be fine.”
“One last thing,” she rushed out before he hung up. “Does Denison work for you?”
“No. Not directly.”
“Then how do you know he’ll help me?”
“Because, Ms. Clayton, I have a feeling you can be very compelling when you want to be.”
The line went dead, and she glared at the screen until it went blank.
A screech of pure frustration rattled her throat, and she stared at the low ceiling above her. She’d have to pull out of the job, and the trip would be wasted because there was no way in hades she was signing up for hours, days, and possibly weeks in the woods with Denison-the-man-ho-Beck.
Chapter Three
Denison was dog tired. The kind of exhausted that seeped into his bones and made him want to sleep for a full twenty-four hour block of time. He’d focused on work today to keep his mind off Danielle. He’d spent half the night awake, wondering if he’d dreamed her at Sammy’s, but from the concerned look on his brother’s face this morning, she’d definitely been there.
Brighton worried too damned much. He waffled between finding amusement in Denison’s love live—or lack thereof—to fretting like a mother hen that Danielle was going to break him in half again. Well, she wasn’t. Denison wasn’t going to let her get that close. He’d even protected himself by calling up to Sammy’s and cancelling his gig next weekend, so there was no chance of seeing her in town since he wouldn’t be there. Sure, he and the boys were headed up to the Lumberjack Wars competition the newly opened sawmill in Saratoga had organized, but it was off in the woods and miles away from a risk of running into her.
His Bronco lurched side to side as he maneuvered around a pair of potholes so deep he could probably spit in them and hit magma. Last week’s rains had washed out the roads worse than they usually were. He was caked in dirt and sweat, and his muscles twitched from the exertion of working every daylight hour with his crew, trying to keep on top of lumber deadlines so they could give themselves enough time to take a day off tomorrow and escort the girls, Brooke and Skyler, to their first lumberjack competition.
Drew was laid out like a corpse in the back seat, snoring softly with his yellow hardhat draped over his face, and Brighton stared out the window in the passenger’s seat as Denison followed Kellen’s white lifted pickup truck down the rugged terrain back toward Asheland Mobile Park. Home was situated in the valley between this mountain and the next. Through the tinted window ahead, he could make out Kellen and his mate, Skyler, as they tipped their heads together for a kiss.
Denison dragged his gaze back to the dirt road disappearing under the nose of his Bronco. Their affection had never bothered him before, but it was different now with all his emotions stirred up by Danielle’s unexpected arrival in town. He gripped the wheel and clenched his teeth. There she was again, clouding his mind with memories of those sexy lips and how good they’d tasted when he’d been lucky enough to have her.
He turned the radio dial to the only radio station out here that got reception, and an old rock-n-roll classic blared through the speakers. Brighton tossed him the fiftieth worried look for the day, and Denison considered booting him from the Bronco and making his ass walk the rest of the way home. Pitying looks made his bear want to kill things.
By the time he pulled through the back gate behind the other trucks, Brighton had wisely decided to ignore him and keep his attention out the window.
“Drew, wake up,” he muttered as he pulled in front of his trailer. “We’re home.”
Denison didn’t wait for the others to get out of his ride. It wasn’t like he needed to lock his doors around here, so he took his porch steps two-by-two and left them to get out as slowly as they wanted.
He hung his hardhat by the door and stripped his shirt and work boots off on the way to his bedroom. Before the tap was even steaming, he was under the cool jets of water, letting it rinse streams of mud down his torso and arms.
He was a happy person by nature, but ever since last night, he’d been feeling off. It was as if a huge gaping hole had opened in his chest, growing bigger and bigger until it threatened to swallow up the good parts about him. That’s what love had done to him. That’s why he would never allow that worthless emotion to taint him again. Tagan had found his mate in Brooke, and Kellen had found Skyler, but that didn’t mean every grizzly shifter found a partner. They were the exception to the rule. Most stayed in bachelor groups, fucked humans when the need to mate became too much, and went their entire lives without finding a true mate. Lady bear shifters were rare. Not many survived in vitro, and Turning women was frowned upon. If women weren’t strong enough, and dominant enough, their inner grizzlies would maim them from the inside out.
He’d messed up with Danielle—allowed himself to bond with her. Allowed his grizzly to choose a fragile human as a potential mate, when he should have been bedding her, then running for the hills like every other male of his kind would’ve done. Well, maybe not every male. He thought of Kellen and Tagan and how they lived and breathed to make their mates happy. Hell, Denison loved Brooke and Skyler like they were his own blood-siblings and would die for either one of them without hesitation. And damn it all, a greedy, needy, pathetic little part of him wanted what Tagan and Kellen had. He wanted to feel like they did and have his devotion returned.
Danielle was a runner, though. History proved it, and she had shown him she hadn’t changed one bit when she took off last night in a plume of tire grit.
With a growl, he forced her from his mind and concentrated on soaping his body. Of course, he was then contending with his raging boner that seemed to spring to life whenever he thought of Danielle, but as tempting as it was to take himself in hand and stroke out a release, the knot of tension would no doubt still be in his shoulders after he emptied himself into the water running down the drain. Plus, now that Danielle was back in his life and sexier than ever, a steamy shower jack-off session just didn’t seem as fulfilling as it had two days ago.
He pressed the palms of his hands against the cool plastic shower tiles and glared at the cracked grout between. She’d ruined everything.
With a sigh, he hit the faucet and stepped out of the shower, then promptly ignored his two day scruff. From what he remembered, Danielle hadn’t liked to kiss him when he wasn’t clean shaven. He’d rubbed her raw with a couple of marathon make-out sessions, one of which had led to the first time he’d slipped his finger into her. And there was his dick again, making a tent of his towel. With a growl, he flipped off the razor that sat waiting on the rim of his sink and headed for the bedroom.
He couldn’t stomp his feet in here like he was tempted to do, on account he’d probably fall through the squishy spots in the old laminate flooring. He yanked open the top drawer of his dresser to make up for it, then dressed in a huff.
The shower was supposed to reinstate his happy demeanor, but it had failed miserably. Tagan and Brooke were cooking for the crew tonight, though, and if his sniffer wasn’t lying, that was spaghetti and garlic bread he smelled wafting through the drafty windows of his trailer.
By the time he made his way outside and down the porch steps, the Ashe crew was gathered around the fire pit at the end of the road. He shook out the last of the water drops from his hair and mussed the top, then jogged toward the others. His shoulders relaxed as he settled into an eye-scorching green plastic lawn chair by the fire with his plate piled high with pasta, mixed vegetables, and finger-singeing hot garlic bread. Leaning over, he grabbed a beer from the red cooler between him and Brighton, and handed his brother one, too. Tops popped, he clinked his bottle against his brother’s in silen
t cheers like Dad had always done before every meal when they were growing up. Then he took a long swig and dug in.
It was amazing how a satisfied stomach after a hard day of work could change his mood. It was that or the banter of his crew that made for an easy distraction. Kellen wrapped his arm around his passing mate’s waist and pulled Skyler into his lap, then whispered something into her ear, causing her to giggle.
Denison smiled at the easy love they’d found and took another pull on his beer. Leaning back, he arched his neck toward the sky and stared at the slashes of airplane contrails that crisscrossed the summer sky.
“What the hell is that?” Bruiser asked.
Denison snapped his head down and frowned at the giant, shiny, silver RV bumping toward the trailer park. And hauling that highfalutin home on wheels was none other than Danielle’s green jeep.
“Shee-yit,” Denison drawled, sitting forward and draping his elbows on his knees. He needed about a dozen more beers to deal with whatever hell was headed his way.
“Is that…” Tagan squinted at the jeep. “Is that Danielle?”
“Badger’s back?” Bruiser crowed.
Kellen was staring over his mate’s shoulder at the approaching vehicle with a calculating look that said he was just going to be a casual observer and not get involved, but Skyler gave a tentative wave to the approaching vehicle from his lap. Out of all of them, she was probably the nicest.
Danielle waved back. She braked and turned off the car, then slid out in what had to be the tightest pair of jeans ever constructed. They clung to her curves in a way that made his belly tighten and his balls swell. Denison would’ve given his least favorite nut to peel those off her and see if she still liked shaving her lady parts like she used to. Damn, he regretted his decision not to jerk off in the shower.