“Hey,” said Quentin, shoving Alex back. “The lady said to back off.”
“You don’t know her,” said Alex, pushing Quentin back. “You don’t know anything about her.”
“I heard her say she doesn’t want you making fun of her burps,” said Quentin. “A gentleman should never call attention to a woman’s bodily functions!”
“Rich, coming from the guy who was talking about Dutch ovens!” retorted Alex.
Katrina shook her head and didn’t intervene, for fear she’d keep on burping. Quentin was right — a gentleman wouldn’t have pointed out that Katrina had been burping…but wouldn’t that also apply to Quentin? And Katrina wasn’t looking for a gentleman — she was looking for true love, and true love didn’t necessarily come courtin’ wearing a tailored suit.
But, apparently, true love could wear a furry suit — and come with a twin. Katrina didn’t know that yet, but she watched as Quentin and Alex shifted into their bears. She stood back, away from the table, knocking over her fresh can of soda, and watching as the two men changed.
Quentin and Alex’s changes were similar. Both got bigger, with their muscles bulging and straining against their clothes, ripping the clothing apart at the seams. Katrina had lived around Port Jameson long enough to know that the belt was usually one of the last things to pop and that she should be careful and make sure an errant belt-buckle didn’t pop her in the eye.
Quentin stayed on his hind legs as he shifted, while Alex got down on all fours. Quentin’s shift had dark fur, just as Quentin had dark hair, and it had emerald eyes that gleamed with the same green life that tinted the forest’s leaves. Alex’s shift had bluer eyes — a deep teal — and his fur was lighter, a light brown that almost seemed amber or gold in the intense summer light.
Alex jumped. His inner bear cheered and urged him to push Quentin to the ground, away from the construction, lest Alex get seriously hurt. This was a scuffle, not a fight to the death! Alex agreed. He pushed Quentin toward another part of the lawn, a region that was clear, and safely away from Katrina.
Katrina watched as the grizzlies fought underneath the sweltering summer sun. She’d known that Alex and Quentin were bears from the very bear-ginning. Plus, the fact they were part of Grizzlyfir and Hemlock meant they were probably bears, although each camp probably had a few non-shifters and non-werebears in their midst. The two shifters had so much in common. They were both cooks, both lumberjacks, both bears. Why couldn’t they just put their differences aside and try to get along?
Quentin let Alex shepherd him to the clearer part of the lawn, but he was no sheep. He knew the game Alex was playing, but what Alex didn’t know was that Quentin didn’t play games when he fought. Instead, Quentin danced. Every fight was like a dance, and Quentin knew many moves.
Alex was confused by the fact Quentin wasn’t fighting back, by the fact Quentin almost seemed to be submitting to him. Alex put his paws on Quentin and pushed the other bear’s thick fur. Quentin rolled with ease, as easily as a rolling pin covered in flour rolling across sugar cookie dough on a white marble countertop. It was pretty frikkin’ easy.
Katrina was confused as well. Had Quentin fainted? It wasn’t every day she saw a giant bear just conk out on a lawn. Was Quentin okay? Katrina couldn’t believe it, but, she was actually a little worried about Quentin. She was angry at both Quentin and Alex, but she didn’t want either of them to get hurt.
“You know, I expected better from you two,” shouted Katrina, as her stomach settled down. “You two got curds in my way, and I gave you both a second chance…and this is what you do? You just…keep fighting?”
The bears could not hear her over their own roars. Katrina shook her head. These guys were hopeless — as in there was literally no hope for them. They were hotheads that couldn’t even work building on a simple, easy shed together.
The bears fought over the lawn, back and forth, until they reached the lumber piles. They avoided the main construction area, but, they smashed into the piles of lumber, splintering the wood underneath their bodies. As lumberjacks, they split wood all the time, but as bears, well…they didn’t split it so much as totally obliterate it like a laser through butter.
The thick two by fours crunched. The sheets of thin wood for decor snapped like dry lasagna pasta. The dowels cracked like twigs. Katrina was sure she’d get some splinters if she didn’t stay out of the crossfire, and the only thing that could make the entire situation worse was some frikkin’ splinters.
Katrina had had it. She was having her time wasted by Alex and Quentin. She hadn’t signed up for drama. They were supposed to be helping solve a problem, but instead, they were making problems.
She picked up her stuff and started to walk across the lawn. The two bears didn’t notice — until Alex’s bear realized that it couldn’t scent out Alex’s future mate. Alex turned to look for her. Quentin, on seeing Alex turn, turned around as well. He pushed Alex aside and started to run toward Katrina, but Alex pushed him down and shook his head before roaring.
Before they could continue fighting, Alex was shot in the head — by a jet of water. It matted his fur, and he sputtered as the water drops went up his nose. He sneezed right in Quentin’s face.
“No!” called a voice. “Bad bears! No!”
Alex got off of Quentin and looked up. Oliver, one of the carpenters at Grizzlyfir, was tending to their vegetable garden. He had a hose in one hand and a trowel in the other.
“Get out of your shifts before I start using this trowel where the sun don’t shine,” threatened Oliver.
Alex shifted back into a man, and so did Quentin. Their muscles changed, and their fur receded back into their bodies. They were left nude in the sizzling summer sun, totally exposed.
“You two bears better get your shizz together if you have any frikkin’ chance of winning your mate,” said Oliver. “She’s not going to deal with ménage bullshizz just because you three are all fated to be together.”
“Ménage?” asked Alex with a laugh.
“Us? No,” said Quentin. “You must be mistaken. We’re not — “
“Chests,” said Oliver.
“Chests?” asked Quentin.
“Your mate marks match, doofuses,” said Oliver with a sigh, before going back to watering the plants.
Alex looked at Quentin.
Quentin looked at Alex.
They looked at each other’s chests.
Right there, in the middle, there were two identical marks.
“Are you…” started Alex.
“…Frikkin’ serious?” finished Quentin.
They looked at the chests, then at each other’s faces, and then, at Katrina, who had nearly reached the parking lot.
“Katrina!” shouted Quentin, running toward the woman he was sure was his, stark raving naked.
“Katrina! Turn around!” begged Alex. “We can explain everything!”
Chapter Six
“Wait!” called Alex, as Quentin ran up to Katrina.
“No, Alex,” said Katrina, whose stomach had settled over the last few minutes. “I can’t believe you two had to…”
Katrina’s path was cut off by a very naked, very shirtless Quentin. She had been staring down at the ground. As soon as she saw flesh, she looked up, to avoid staring at Quentin’s cock, but when she looked up, she saw his chest.
Firm. Toned. Covered in a sheen of sweat that made him glisten like a jewel set between the stones of a river, like a diamond in the rough. Over his two pecs, there was a mark.With a thick center, and eight spindly lines radiating out from that center, there was no questioning what the mark symbolized.
“Is that a…a…” started Katrina.
“It’s a spider,” said Quentin.
“Like that stupid nursery rhyme,” said Katrina. “I got teased about that all the time in school. That’s…that’s your mate mark, isn’t it?”
“If you know what it is, you know what it means,” called Alex. “It’s supposed to lead a s
hifter to his fated mate.”
Katrina turned. Alex was approaching, naked, but her eyes didn’t go to his crotch. They were aimed straight at his chest. She turned back to Quentin, then back to Alex, then back to Quentin again, her head spinning from confusion and from the fact she was whirling her head around as if she were on an amusement park ride.
“You two…” started Katrina, as Alex and Quentin moved to stand next to each other. “You have…”
“The same marks, which means we have the same mate,” said Alex.
“And that means we have to claim her — together,” said Quentin.
“And you think that’s me?” asked Katrina.
“You know you’re our fated mate,” said Alex. “You were just telling Quentin about that nursery rhyme — about a certain little Miss Muffet.”
“Well, I’m not little — but I am Miss Muffet,” said Katrina.
“You’re tiny — compared to us,” said Quentin.
“Alex!” called a harsh voice. “Quentin — don’t make me call Terrence!” Darius was walking across the lawn, carrying a duffle bag. When Quentin and Alex turned to face him, Darius looked at Quentin’s chest, then, back to Alex’s chest.
Darius shook his head and threw the duffle over toward Alex and Quentin. “Okay — you get a pass, because I see what’s going on, but, cover your asses up. Nobody wants to see your twigs and marionberries — and I do mean twigs.”
“I don’t think I’ve got a twig,” said Alex, looking down, which reminded Katrina that she should turn around, or else she’d end up staring awkwardly at their crotches.
“If I’ve got a twig, then Patricia must be a very lucky woman,” said Quentin. “Let me guess, in there, there’s — “
“A whole dang outfit,” said Alex, unzipping the duffle. Inside, there were actually two outfits, made of large pink shorts and green shirts.
“Same ones Terrence has,” admitted Quentin.
Alex and Quentin got changed.
“It’s safe now,” said Alex.
“But…if I were you, I’d start getting used to seeing us naked,” said Quentin.
Katrina turned around and looked over Quentin and Alex. She couldn’t help but burst out laughing. The shirts said ‘I Lost My Shift — Ask Me How’ on a speech bubble spoken by a shrugging bear.
“Those are hilarious,” said Katrina, doubling over with laughter.
“Would you prefer if we took them off?” asked Quentin, raising a brow.
“No — and I don’t want to see either of you shirtless or naked unless I decide I want you two,” said Katrina.
“But…the marks,” started Alex.
“You two really think that I’ll trust you two not to rip each other apart?” asked Katrina.
“Of course,” said Quentin. “Have we ever given you any reason not to trust us?”
“Yes!” shouted Katrina. “I literally asked you two not to fight!”
“Technically, you asked us not to rip each other apart until we left the bakery,” said Quentin.
“I said you had to be out of the bakery and away from me,” said Katrina, arms crossed.
“Well, technically, we didn’t touch you or anything,” said Alex.
“Don’t help him play lawyer!” demanded Katrina.
“He’s my lawyer,” said Alex. “He’s the one representing me in Alex and Quentin versus the State of Katrina.”
“Okay — I may be curvy, but saying I’m the size of a state is a step too far,” joked Katrina. “You two might be getting along now…but what about tomorrow? What about when you realize that you’re still two very different guys?”
“So what if we don’t get along?” asked Quentin.
“You have to — or else I’ll just find another guy, or guys,” said Katrina, crossing her arms. “I’m a human. I don’t have to worry about a fated mate, or being one. I can date anyone I want!”
“So can we,” said Quentin. “True love, fated mates, call it what you will — you’re meant to be with us, Katrina.”
“So prove it,” challenged Katrina.
Alex started to take off his shirt.
“No — prove it via actions,” said Katrina.
“I am,” said Alex.
“You know what I mean,” said Katrina.
“Pretend, for a second, that I don’t, that we don’t,” said Quentin, motioning between him and Alex.
“You two need to prove that you can get along for more than just a few minutes,” said Katrina. “I need to get to know you two better before I commit to the both of you because apparently, you’re a package deal, and one bad apple spoils the bunch, and this is a very mixed metaphor. Plus, I personally require a little romance to get my engine going — because I’m not looking for a quick thing. I want…”
“Marriage? Love? A cute cottage full of bouncing babies?” asked Alex.
“Please don’t test out whether babies can bounce,” said Katrina. “But — yes. I want all that, but — “
“But being our mate guarantees all that,” said Quentin.
“But it doesn’t guarantee that you two won’t rip each other apart and cause a lot of drama,” said Katrina. “That’s why I need to see proof you two can get along before I let you claim me — and again, I need some romance.”
“Are we talking like, a box of chocolates and some flowers?” asked Alex.
“No, we’re not,” said Katrina, rubbing her temples. “Maybe I’m setting the standard too high.”
“I mean, you are,” said Alex.
“No — you’re not,” said Quentin. “This is perfectly normal, Katrina. You’re not a shifter. I get it. And, even if you were…well, I get where you’re coming from, about the fighting, the romance, all that.”
“You do?” asked Katrina, taken aback. She wasn’t used to Quentin being serious and sensitive, instead of sassy.
“I do — because my mom’s not a shifter,” said Quentin with a smile. “Trust me, I get that it’s a lot. She taught me to be empathetic to others, other non-shifters and shifters alike, and try and see where they’re coming from.”
“All my mom taught me was how to make jalapeño cornbread,” joked Alex. “My parents are both shifters.”
“Oh, so you didn’t have the whole thing where your dad wasn’t sure if you’d be a shifter until the mark showed up on your birthday?” asked Quentin.
“Yeah — I think that might’ve just been your family,” said Alex.
“Alright, look — obviously, you two can get along, but I still need to see it, over a longer period, to believe it,” said Katrina, shaking her head to try and hide a smile. “Let’s call it a day. The sheds are ruined, and frankly…they weren’t really the right fit for the event.”
“So we can make gazebos,” said Alex.
“We can?” asked Quentin, turning to face Alex.
“The point is to make something that works for the event,” said Alex. “I’m not going to beat a dead horse, or build a dead shed. Let’s just meet up tomorrow, at the bakery, and figure the gazebo shizz out, okay?”
“Sounds good to me,” said Quentin. “Now, Katrina — do you want a ride back to the bakery?”
“Sure,” said Katrina.
“Great,” said Quentin. “Let me grab my keys. Worst part about shifting randomly is having to find my frikkin’ keys and wallet.”
Within five minutes, Katrina was walking with Quentin to the parking lot, and he clicked a button on his keychain. Lights flashed — coming from the bright red sports car in the parking lot. Katrina smiled. She could get used to the good life — especially with two shifters as red-hot as the cherry red car. The only question was, would their tempers continue to make them see red?
Chapter Seven
Katrina had set up the meeting room before Alex and Quentin arrived, but she’d forgotten to get herself a beverage. About twenty minutes into their brainstorm sessions, she went to get everyone drinks. When she was coming back, she heard shouting from inside the meeting r
oom. She stood outside, with her tray, and listened as Alex and Quentin squabbled over minutiae — everything from color schemes to types of wood and which structure was truly more ideal for the event. She knew that they were being passionate. Wood was their life — along with food. But, did they have to bite each other’s heads off when they were passionate?
She had something else she wanted their passionate mouths to be doing…but as the two sexy lumberjacks fought, she wasn’t sure if hearing them fight was a turn-on or a turn-off. They were both frustratingly handsome, but what was more frustrating was that they were wasting their time ripping holes in each other’s arguments instead of ripping her clothes off.
Of course, the idea of having both Alex and Quentin on her like bears on raw salmon was a pipe dream — and not just because she was dreaming about them laying pipe.
Fate had decided Alex and Quentin were destined to share a mate — but that mate might not even be Katrina.
After all, Katrina wasn’t willing to put up with a lifetime of hearing Alex and Quentin bicker like an old married couple — and she was sure they wouldn’t stop, even when the three of them were an old married ménage!
Some women would put up with Alex and Quentin’s shizz — women with higher tolerances for fighting, women who didn’t want to see them often or live with them, all kinds of women, but Katrina was not in their number.
Katrina knew that wouldn’t change — so why would Alex and Quentin change?
Katrina sighed and opened the door. By the time she got into the room, tray in one hand, Alex and Quentin were making nice, as if they hadn’t been arguing about frikkin’ varnish just seconds before!
“Here,” said Katrina. “Plain black iced coffee for Alex, raspberry tea latte for Quentin, and for me, a lemonade.” Katrina retook her seat.
“Where were we again?” asked Alex.
“Figuring out color schemes,” said Quentin. “Are you sure you want to go with the pastels?”
“They’re bright and cheery,” said Alex. “This is a festival.”
“A festival held at night,” said Quentin.
Miss Muffet’s Bears: Freshly Baked Furry Tails, Book 2 Page 5