Owl Be Bear For You (Camp Shifter Book 1)

by DJ Jennings

  “For someone who doesn’t do this, you’re doing just fine,” Jack murmured. His eyes cut over to her and he looked like a man conflicted. As his hand reached for the keys in his pocket, he pulled the keyring out and slid the key into the ignition, then stopped. The look he gave her made her wish they were in bed right now.

  As he reached for her again, this time it was his stomach that growled.

  He paused and gave a rueful smile. “Okay. Okay. Dinner.” He turned on the car and backed out of the parking spot, then pulled forward, turning left, toward downtown.

  A sudden attack of the nerves hit Mara, hard. What was she doing? Was this a date? Jack hadn’t technically asked her out, and here she was, throwing herself at this guy. As she smoothed her skirt over her knees and tried to fluff her hair with her fingers to make it look halfway presentable, her mind rushed with thousands of questions.

  Jack drove with confidence. He clearly knew where he was going. The silence between them was companionable, and he held her hand unless he needed to shift gears. She hadn’t been in a stick shift car in years, she realized, her brain suddenly distracted by tiny details.

  A red turn arrow. A cluster of orange construction cones. A street musician playing an enormous cello. Life teemed with energy all around them as Jack navigated the increasingly dense downtown streets, and yet they felt like they were in a tiny cocoon together, the rest of the world so separate.

  “What kind of food do you like?” he asked pleasantly, a slight smile on his lips. He pushed a button on the radio and a light blues song poured through the speakers, soothing and warm.

  “Whatever you like,” she said, feeling stupid the instant the words were out of his mouth.

  “I generally eat live hissing cockroaches in a cream sauce,” he joked.

  “Mmmmm, my favorite.”

  Awkward now, and yet surprisingly comfortable, Mara gave him a mocking grin and found herself unable to stop looking into those strikingly sensual brown eyes.

  “We need to get going,” he said, his voice catching in his throat. He felt it, too.

  She could tell. Wild, wet arousal pooled between her legs and as they reached the main road through town, she forced herself to look at her hands for a moment, just to stop looking at him.

  “How about Italian?” he asked, pointing to Nonnie’s favorite restaurant. Mara couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

  “I eat there every Friday with my grandmother,” she said, instantly regretting the words.

  “Great. Smooth move, Karsten. Impress the woman on your first date by suggesting a geriatric watering hole.”

  “The bad news: you’re hopelessly uncool. The good news: my grandmother will like you when she learns you’re a Gianni’s fan.”

  His throat moved with a swallow, hands clutching the steering wheel a little tighter. The tension in the car went up a notch. What had she said?

  “Your grandmother? What about your parents?”

  Oh.

  Oh.

  This was the part that was so hard about meeting new people. She’d forgotten. Settled into her boring daily routine, for as much as Mara hated feeling like she was stuck in a rut, it was better than the anxiety that having to tell her story produced inside her.

  He sensed her unease. “I’m sorry. Is that a bad question to ask? I retract it.” His boyish grin, an aw shucks look that managed to be both contrite and compassionate, made her loosen inside. She felt safe with him.

  Even emotionally safe. She couldn’t say why, but she did.

  “No, it’s okay. I just don’t really talk about it that much. My parents are dead. They died a while ago.”

  He frowned. “I’m so sorry. Did I touch on a sad topic? I shouldn’t have...”

  “It’s fine,” she said, rushing to make him feel okay. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Most people don’t have dead parents. It’s a normal thing to ask. I’m the weirdo for being an orphan.” Orphan. The word always made people wince, and Jack was no exception.

  “How old were you when they died?”

  This was the moment where she had to be creative, if by creative you meant lie.

  “When I was much younger.” And with that, he changed the subject, clearly picking up on her signals of discomfort. Appreciative and also shaken, she was relieved when he pulled into the restaurant parking lot and killed the engine, jumping out of the car to walk around and open her door for her.

  A true gentleman. Rarer than a unicorn.

  The restaurant was slow tonight and they had their pick of the floor. “Mind if we take a quiet booth?” he asked, polite and pleasant, without a hint of seductive suggestion. She nodded and soon they were seated, Jack ordering a bottle of red wine she couldn’t pronounce, but hoped she’d enjoy.

  Once the waiter had delivered a bread basket and some water, she asked Jack the same question. “What about your parents?”

  “Dead, too, at least my—”

  If she’d been drinking her water, she would have sprayed it everywhere. As it was, she choked a bit in surprise.

  “After all that, it turns out you’re an orphan, too?”

  He shrugged, his huge, heavily muscled back like a mountain formation. “No, not quite. Dad’s gone. Mom’s still alive. I wasn’t going to say anything. I felt bad enough. But you asked.”

  “Why would you feel bad?”

  “Because I could tell from the look on your face that the topic upsets you. You must have really loved your parents.”

  Mara’s eyes went unfocused, her mind in turmoil.

  “I was six. They died in a car crash. Both of them, together. At least they were together.”

  “Oh, babe, I’m so sorry.” Jack’s big, warm hand covered hers and squeezed, his body moving in to give her comfort. The concern was genuine, the affection so achingly authentic that she wanted to curl up against him for the rest of her life, under a blanket, and just be like that forever.

  It had been so long ago. Almost nineteen years.

  He called her babe. No guy had ever given her a term of endearment like that. It sent a shiver of possession through her.

  “It’s okay,” she stammered.

  “No. It’s not. You never get over it.”

  “You, too?”

  The waiter interrupted them, delivering the bottle of wine, uncorking it and pouring an inch for Jack to sample and approve. The preliminaries done, the waiter poured two half glasses and left them to their ghastly bonding over dead parents.

  Nothing like shared tragedy to fuel budding love.

  “My story’s a little different, Mara,” he said, not moving away from her, his giant fingers twirling the wine glass between sips. “My dad was an asshole. Disappeared one day when I was a teen. Raised by a single mom and my older brother. He helped put me through med school. I’ve got a sister who is a few years younger than me, my twin brothers are in high school, and now it’s my turn to help them. Mom works as a waitress in a diner, but she’s getting old. We’re all trying to help her.”

  “That’s so sweet.”

  He smiled at her.

  She frowned in question. “Your dad’s gone? Dead?”

  He sighed. “Yeah. Found out last year. He moved out to Montana and created a whole new life there. Two little kids and a new wife and everything. He never technically divorced my mom, so it turned into a big legal mess when he died.”

  “How? How did he...”

  “Heart attack. Out of the blue.”

  She winced, feeling his ambivalence. Having a parent run away on you was so different than what happened to her. And knowing his dad had raised other kids must be so hard.

  “Have you met his other kids?”

  To her surprise, Jack stared over her shoulder a minute, as if he were a million miles away, blinking slowly. The impulse to wrap her arms around him and just hug the pain away swept over her, the ache in her throat joining the pull of desire.

  Instead, though, she reached for a breadstick and munched on it, wai
ting for him to answer. This was how you got to know each other on a first date.

  Whether you liked it or not.

  Chapter 10