Dancing Bearback (BBW Shifter Cowboy Western Romance) (Bear Ranchers Book 3)

by Becca Fanning

  “Hold on tight,” he said as he turned on the motorcycle. He could feel breath hitch as he pressed the gas. He loved the sound of surprise that she made as they leapt forward. He drove a few laps around the parking lot, and felt her relax with each round. By the fourth time around her grip around his waist was no longer a vice.

  “This is amazing,” she yelled. He grinned. They pulled into a parking space and stopped the bike. He turned so he could look at her clearly. “I think I may have to get a bike of my own,” she said excitedly.

  The joy on her face was so pure that he wanted to kiss her. She looked stunning in the soft light from the street lamps. Her hair was slightly tousled from the wind. He leaned forward slightly, and then drew back. He couldn’t kiss her. He couldn’t get involved with her. She was his employee. And things in the garage would be rough enough for her as it was, since she was the only girl. He didn’t want to add the embarrassment of being involved with the boss to the list of reasons her peers weren’t excited about her presence.

  “I should head out,” he said after a moment of silence. “Early morning at the garage.”

  She slipped off the bike gracefully. “Thanks for the ride. It was fun.”

  He nodded. “See you tomorrow,” he said stiffly.

  He watched as she walked to her car, a gorgeous refurbished vehicle, and couldn’t help feeling annoyed at himself for not making a move.

  April finished her last oil change of the day and wiped her hands on her pants. She picked up her papers and dropped them at the office along with the keys for the car. Ever since her ride on Brett’s bike she had been avoiding the bar. She enjoyed it a bit too much.

  But after the day she had, she needed a drink. She was officially the “scut” girl. It was thankless and annoying but she was determined to pay her dues. But after another day of ‘some common unfinished task’ she needed a drink. And she didn’t want to drink alone.

  So she found herself at the biker bar. She saw Brett with his friends out of the corner of her eye, but didn’t pay them any attention. Brett had been weird after he gave her the ride on his bike, and she didn’t want to do anything that would make her work environment uncomfortable.

  She ordered a girly drink and sipped it slowly. She leaned against the wall, she had picked the bar stool right against the edge of the bar, closest to the wall, and watched the crowd. It was a relatively busy night, and music was playing non-stop. A few people had started to dance but nothing particularly formal started. It was the sort of relaxed fun that one could have in a small local bar.

  Three-quarters of the way through her drink, a man from Brett’s table approached the bar. He looked at her, and then headed her way. She wondered if Brett had sent him to ask her to join them, but she quickly dismissed the idea. If Brett wanted her to join him, he would have asked her himself. He certainly wasn’t shy.

  “Hey,” the man said. He was tall and bulky like Brett, but his muscles looked built in a gym rather than through manual labor. He was attractive, but a little to clean cut for her. In fact, he was the only clean cut guy in the lot. He was wearing slacks and a button down shirt that was rolled to the elbows. His arms were covered in tattoos, but they ended right above his wrists. With his sleeves rolled down he probably just looked like an average banker or lawyer. His hair was cut short, and it was a light blonde, whereas Brett’s hair looked a little shaggy.

  “Hey,” she replied, looking him over.

  “I’m Tyler.”

  “April.”

  He had a smooth voice, nothing like Brett’s. Brett always sounded like he had just swallowed gravel. “Can I get you a drink?” April nodded. Even if he wasn’t exactly her type, he was still really cute, and she hadn’t been hit on in a very long time. It was nice to feel wanted. “Do you want another one of those?” Tyler gestured to her watered down drink.

  “Yeah, that’d be great. It’s a mango margarita.”

  “I have to say, that sounds delicious,” he said after he ordered for her.

  “It’s a lot better than a beer, I’ll give it that much.”

  Tyler looked down at the beer in his large hand. “Beer is an acquired taste.”

  “I suppose so,” April said. “It just always seems so heavy to me. It’s like drinking a slice of bread.”

  He laughed. He had dimples that made him look boyish. “You’re right. It is kind of like drinking bread.”

  She smiled and sipped her own drink. She peaked over at his group, and she saw that Brett was staring right at them.

  The next day at work was probably the worst April had ever had. Every time she tried to lend a hand Brett would appear out of nowhere and make her do idiotic tasks. She had to try to scrub an oil stain out of the concrete, she was put on sign in duty and could only drive the cars into the garage. She wasn’t even allowed to do a damn oil change.

  Every time Brett spoke to her, his tone was clipped and he wouldn’t look at her face. She had a funny feeling that his new attitude had something to do with her talking to Tyler the night before.

  She needed to do something productive, so after everyone left she picked up her tools and headed over to one of the cars that the garage was working on refurbishing. It was a 600-Grosser, one of the worst cars ever when it came to trying to handle repairs. It was just a mess. She thought it was hilarious that people would buy classic cars to repair and then not repair them on their own but she could forgive anyone who decided to get a Grosser. They were impossible cars to deal with. She drove a classic car that she had put back together lovingly. It was one of the last projects that she had worked on with her father before he died.

  She loved everything about taking the shell of a car and putting it back together, painting it and buffing it until it shown. She sat and began to work, tuning out everything that was going on around her. She was part of the way through working on the engine when someone cleared their throat behind her.

  She jumped and dropped her wrench. “Shit!” Brett stood there, his arms crossed, looking none too pleased with her.

  “Why are you still here?” he asked sullenly.

  “I was just working.” She stood up so he wasn’t looking down at her.

  “It isn’t your job to work on that car.”

  “I know. But I’ve worked on the same model so I figured I’d help out a bit.”

  “Go home, April. I’ll check your work.”

  “It’s good work.”

  “I’m sure it is.” He walked past her, and recoiled when their shoulders brushed.

  She wanted to ask what the problem was but she couldn’t bring herself to deal with his response. She put her wrench down and walked out of the garage.

  Tyler was perhaps the biggest flirt she had ever met in her entire life.

  He was funny, and sweet but goodness did he know how to flirt. April constantly found herself blushing at his words. She thought that blushing had been crushed out of her after college. Apparently not. But every time Tyler put his hand on her back, or her thigh, or their fingers brushed as he handed off a drink, she could almost feel Brett’s gaze attempt to burn a hole through her.

  Brett was still ignoring her at work. Sometimes that made things easier because she wasn’t sure if she wanted to punch him or kiss him. If she was honest with herself, she wanted to kiss him. He was so sweet to the elderly customers who came into the shop. He never attempted to swindle anyone if they didn’t know what was going on with their car. He was honest, and kind and watching him take apart an engine turned her on so much.

  Tyler was sweet, sure, but he was a lawyer. He had never worked on a vehicle that wasn’t his motorcycle in his whole life. She couldn’t imagine Tyler covered in oil and sweat the way she saw Brett every day. She had a crush on her boss and it was killing her.

  As the night wore on, and people drank more, someone switched on a top-20s playlist and a few people started to dance. Tyler tugged at her hand. “Let’s dance!” She had had enough to drink to be amenable to the idea.
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  She laughed. “I’m a horrible dancer.”

  “I bet you’re not,” he said. And he was right, she had been in dance classes and was a cheerleader as a young girl, but she just didn’t want to dance. Not with Tyler anyway. He gave her puppy dog eyes and she sighed. “Fine, I’ll dance with you.” She let herself be dragged out onto the dance floor and even let Tyler put his hands on her hips to guide her through the music. He had rhythm, she couldn’t deny that.

  They went through two songs together, and April tried to ignore the eyes she felt on her. She knew if she looked up that she would see Brett’s angry gaze. She rolled her eyes. Whatever. If he wasn’t going to make a move on her then she was allowed to do whatever the hell she wanted. Besides, the only thing that connected them was the night in the parking lot and the fact that he’d been acting like a sixth grade boy for the last two weeks.

  “Tyler, mind if I cut in?” Her head snapped up at the sound of Brett’s voice.

  “Go ahead, man.” Tyler stepped aside and Brett took his place.

  Brett’s warm, calloused hands replaced Tyler’s on her hips and she took a deep breath. She continued to dance, trying to ignore the heat from his hands. He slowly moved his hands up her waist, and then back down again. His fingers dug into her hips, and she gasped out loud.

  She backed into him slightly, closing the gap between their bodies. Her back was pressed against his solid, strong front. He held her in place by her hips, and slowly moved with her. He leaned in, his breath on her neck and ear. “Don’t ever dance like that with another man in front of me.”

  The possessiveness of his voice made her gasp. She wasn’t sure if she was completely turned on or if she wanted to argue that he didn’t own her and she could do whatever the hell she wanted. His lips brushed against her jawline and her legs almost buckled.

  He held her up, and managed to get her through two more songs until he stopped and guided her outside to the parking lot. He took her keys out of her pocket. “You’re not okay to drive,” he said.

  “I’m fine.”

  “I watched you take six shots. I’ll drive you home.”

  “You’re the designated driver!” He nodded. He helped her into the passenger’s seat and he got into the car.

  “Directions?” he asked, still not looking at her.

  She gave them to him. After a moment of silence she asked, “Why do you do that? You’re all like ‘April, no dance with other men besides me’ then you’re giving me the silent treatment. You did the same thing after the motorcycle ride.”

  “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

  “Says your weird code or whatever. What about if I want to?” He didn’t respond, but his knuckles tightened on the steering wheel.

  They were silent until they pulled into the house that once belonged to her parents but was now hers. He helped her out of the car. “How are you supposed to get home?” she asked.

  “I will, don’t worry.”

  They stood there on the step. Brett took her keys from her and opened the door before handing the keys back to her. “Thanks for driving me home,” she said, not quite sure what to do.

  “No problem.” Before he could turn away, she stood on her tip toes and planted a kiss right on his lips. He returned it for a moment before taking her by the shoulders and pushing her back. “No, April. We really can’t do this.”

  He gently pushed her into the house and shut the door.

  April woke up with a massive headache the next morning. She showered quickly, and got dressed. Then drove to the garage. She got to work immediately, ignoring the pounding in her head and the tingling on her lips that reminded her of Brett’s kiss.

  Every time she saw him he turned away quickly, refusing to make eye contact with her. As the day passed, she got angry. They kissed! He danced with her and drove her home! There was something between them and for some reason he wasn’t admitting it.

  By the time closing time rolled around, April was primed for a fight. She was angry on two levels: one, what the hell was with his hot and cold nonsense? And two, if she had to do another oil change she would put her head through a wall. Brett saw what she could do the other night. He watched her work on his precious 600-Grosser. Stupid car was a waste of time. She wasn’t even sure why he would want to deal with it. But he had been stuck for days and she fixed the problem. But here she was, doing oil changes even though he had promised that he’d let her work on actual jobs.

  Brett always closed up, so she waited. She watched as everyone slowly clocked out. Her body was wound. Finally, the last mechanic left and it was only her and Brett. She left her area and headed to the part of the garage where she knew he’d be. He always finished the day working on his Impala. A much better car, in her not so humble opinion, than the Grosser.

  He was rubbing a cloth along the hood when she found him. “Hey, Brett. Can we talk?”

  He didn’t look up at her. “What do you want, April?”

  She didn’t understand that attitude. He was making her insane. He was the most hot and cold man she had ever interacted with in her life. She had planned on being calm about the whole thing, civil even, but something in his tone made her snap. She would deal with the work problem first, and then everything else.

  “I need you to give me actual work! I’ve been doing oil changes for a month! That’s insane. You’ve seen my work on the restorations. You know I’m good. Hell, you respected my dad’s work. Why can’t you respect mine? And what the hell was with last night? You danced with me, not the other way around. This isn’t my fault.”

  “I do.”

  “What?”

  “I do respect your work.”

  “Then why am I stuck performing oil changes when I could be making you guys money with restorations?”

  He looked up at her. His deep brown eyes had fire in them. “You’re stuck doing oil changes because every time I see you I want to jump you and I can’t exactly do that with the rest of the guys around.” His voice was husky and sent desire shooting through her core.

  “You want…”

  “You.”

  And then he was on her. He picked her up easily. As tall as she was, she felt so dainty in his arms. He sat her on the hood of the Impala he had been working on and leaned over her. He was so large that he practically eclipsed her view of everything else around her. Her heart pounded in her chest. Was she attracted to Brett? Hell yes. But what about Tyler? He was Brett’s friend and he obviously had a crush on her.

  But all thoughts of Tyler were swept from her mind when Brett pressed his lips to hers. He somehow tasted both sweet and masculine, and he was completely overwhelming. Her legs went around his waist as he ravaged her mouth. His tongue explored mercilessly. Her fingers gripped at his shirt, needing him closer. He rocked against her, placing just enough friction against her core to make her want more but certainly not enough to satisfy her in any way. “I’ve wanted you since the night in the bar when I took you around the parking lot on the motorcycle.” Her breath hitched at his words. “Every time I see you,” he took a labored breath, as if confessing something big. “I want to push you up against something and have my way with you.”

  His hand went to her breast and he kneaded it through her shirt. She arched into him, demanding more. She had never wanted a man so badly. The heated looks that they had been exchanging for weeks, the dance at the bar, it all culminated in this and she felt like she was going to explode with need. “Here I am, have your way,” she hissed as his tongue circled her nipple. He moved back up her body, giving her a searing kiss that made her insides boil.

  “Brett,” she whispered against his lips. He broke away for a moment. “Fuck me.”