Shifting quickly, he tiptoed out of the cabin, his claws clicking on the wooden floors, and headed into the woods.
An hour and a good hunt later, his mood had lifted a little. Being surrounded by nature had restored his inner balance. And, more importantly, without his bear nagging at him, he’d been able to think clearly, and he had a resolution: Harper wasn’t a person to change her mind – he knew that. And the hurt he’d caused her ran too deep. He’d never have her heart again. But I’m going to do my best to ensure that she has a happy life with me, he told himself. I’ve got 90 days to make this mating work, and at the end of it, I’m not going to go to Xander and tell him I can’t do it. Apart from everything else, he was very aware that an annulment of the mating would mean ruin for her clan. The shame of having a daughter mated to a Broken Hill Bear then sent home again would be immense. It’s not going to happen. The things that had happened in the past, which had caused her so much pain, had been out of his control. But this he could control. He was going to be the best mate to her that he possibly could. And if she hated him until the end of their lives, then so be it. He was strong enough to deal with it. For the past five years, he’d been a tearaway, a bad boy, but he was going to face up to his responsibilities and become the best damn mate he could.
Energized by his resolve, he hit the shower. Five minutes later, he was pulling on a pair of black jeans and a jade-green v-neck tee, before hurtling down to the kitchen. He was going to make her a honeymoon breakfast, he decided, rummaging through the fridge. But the problem was that his cooking skills weren’t the most advanced. Most of the time he either ended up hunting or going to his mom’s.
“I’m going to fix this,” he muttered, raking his fingers through his hair. He was surprised to discover that he owned a cookery book, wedged in a corner of the kitchen and covered in dust. He opened it up and leafed through the breakfast section with growing agitation. Eggs? Toast? He was pretty sure that he could cope with those. But a look around told him that he had neither eggs, nor bread. “Damn.” What does Harper like for breakfast anyway? He trawled his memory. That time in French class. The teacher had brought in some things for them to try. There were croissants, and those pastry things with chocolate inside. Harper had loved them. He remembered her eyes closing in ecstasy as she bit into the pastry, the pink tip of her tongue flickering over her lips to clear stray crumbs. She’d made him promise to take her to Paris when they were grown, so she could eat the original ones, sitting in front of the Eiffel Tower. Unexpectedly, he got a lump in his throat at the memory. Before he had time to change his mind, he put a pot of coffee on and headed out to the Broken Hill bakery to buy some for her.
They were still warm when he returned, and he plated them and poured the coffee, then put everything on a tray and carried it upstairs.
There was no answer when he rapped gently on her door. He knocked a little louder, and there was a sleepy sigh, followed by the sound of her clearing her throat. He took that as a sign he could enter, and he opened the door and walked into the room. It smelled sweetly of her – her warm body, lying between the sheets all night. She was sitting upright, wearing a white tanktop, and the curtains were open. Her hair was adorably tousled and curled a little at the ends.
“I brought you some breakfast,” he said.
“Thank you.” She smiled at him politely, as she might smile at a waiter. “They smell good.” He set the tray down and put the coffees on a night stand.
“Mind if I join you?” he said, realizing at the same time that he hadn’t put any chairs in the room. She shrugged.
“Sure.” He sat down awkwardly at the end of the bed and took a croissant. His gaze flickered over her face as she ate, noticing that she was pale and the delicate skin beneath her eyes had a purple tinge.
“Did you sleep okay?”
“Yeah. It’s a very comfy bed.”
“Some guys in the clan made it.”
“That figures.”
“How’s the breakfast?”
“Good. I haven’t eaten these in years, actually.” He cringed inwardly. Did she mean since French class? Was he reminding her of something she didn’t want to think about? “Are they home made?” He opened his mouth to lie, but realized he couldn’t exactly get away with it.
“No, they’re from the bakery. But it’s a real great bakery actually. It’s run by Melissa. You’ll like her.” He was babbling, totally uncharacteristically, but he was on edge, which also wasn’t common for him.
“I’m kidding,” she said, amusement flashing in her narrow green eyes. “No one actually makes croissants and pain au chocolat.”
“Oh,” he said, feeling dumb, and grinned, trying to share the joke with her. But the good mood disappeared as fast as it had arrived.
He fell silent, her obvious reluctance to talk making him self-conscious. But he wasn’t a man to let things slide passively by.
“Harper, look – can we at least be natural with each other?” he blurted out. “I mean, we can’t carry on being stiff like this the whole time. It’s going to make things difficult for both of us.” She stared at him and opened her mouth and closed it again, as if rethinking what she’d been about to say.
“Rocco, I – I don’t know you any more. Actually, I realized a long time ago that I never really knew you in the first place. So you might as well be a stranger to me. And I really, really don’t know how to act around a stranger who happens to be my mate. So please forgive me if I seem a little stiff, but I feel like I’m acting in a play where I don’t know the script.” Her words were harsh, but she was blinking quickly and he saw that her eyes were very bright. He sighed.
“I know. And I know that neither of us chose this situation. But shall we try to make the best of it?”
“Did Xander give you an opportunity to say no to the mating?” He shook his head.
“No, he didn’t. But, seriously, let’s forget about that, Harper. We’re mated now. And I want to make you happy. I really do.” She sighed, wriggled her toes beneath the comforter, in a way that gave him a twinge of nostalgia.
“There was a time when those words would have set my heart on fire, but things have changed. A lot,” she said, and she looked so sad that his throat tightened. At the time, it had killed him to do what he did to her, and now the pain felt no less raw.
“I know,” he said. “And I regret that, a lot. And I know you hate me. But can we call a truce? We’re together now, like it or not, and we might as well try to make the best of things.” She was silent for a moment, her long, arched brows drawn together.
“You’re right. I can’t live like a robot. But it’ll take me a while to get used to being around you again.”
“I understand. Take all the time you need.” She flashed a smile.
“That’s more like it.”
“What is?”
“The Rocco I knew would just sit back and let things resolve themselves. ‘Chill’, you used to tell me whenever I got worked up over something ridiculous.” He grinned.
“I guess I’ve grown up, and worked out the difference between what’s ridiculous and what’s really important.”
She ate the remainder of her pain au chocolat in silence, gazing into the middle distance, her tongue flicking out and catching the stray crumbs. He took the opportunity to steal a glance at her. She wasn’t wearing a bra beneath her tanktop, and he could just make out the outline of her nipples. God, she’s sexy. Absolutely my perfect woman, he thought, as his bear let off a purr.
Suddenly realizing that he might be intruding on her privacy, he got up and grabbed the breakfast stuff.
“I’ll leave you in peace. Let me know if you want to do something today,” he said, already walking out of the room, straining against his bear, which was doing everything in its power to try to make him stay.
“Okay,” she said, an unreadable expression darkening her eyes.
7
Harper’s first week in Broken Hill was one of the longest and m
ost difficult of her life. She went through the motions of shopping for furnishings for her bedroom and a second room that Rocco had put aside as her private living room. He told her to feel free to spread her stuff all over the house and to make it her own, but she didn’t want to. She wanted to maintain her own space and that was all. To the outside world, she seemed to be coping well, but inside, she was in agony. It was so difficult being around Rocco. Every time she laid eyes on him, it was a painful reminder of how wrong things were. Of how what they had now looked so much like the life she’d dreamed of, but was just a terrible parody of it. She’d been affected by the things he’d said the morning after the mating ceremony, and in the days that followed, she’d come to realize that he was right – she couldn’t exist by continuing to be so hostile toward him. Instead, she was studiously polite around him, as if she was a guest in his house – answering his questions, asking him polite questions – how his day was, if he was enjoying coaching the young kids. She only let her mask slip when she was in the privacy of her rooms. There, she spent a lot of time numbly watching TV shows, interspersed with unexpected episodes of crying. She also spent as much time in her bear form as possible, running in the woods, happy to be away from the claustrophobia of the cabin.
After a week of doing nothing more than wallowing in her misery, she couldn’t stand it any more. Harper wasn’t a woman to sit around doing nothing. Rocco told her that she didn’t need to worry about work; the Broken Hill Bears had more money than they knew what to do with, but it didn’t sit well with her. She forced herself to get up, put on some make-up, and head down to the local kindergarten to see if they had any positions open.
The teachers were delighted to meet her, and offered her a job immediately. It was a friendly, welcoming place, and she found herself looking forward to adding some of her own touches. She was passionate about educating kids, and providing them with a happy environment to nurture their creativity, so she was always seeking out innovative ways to change things for the better. She got to know Broken Hill’s other newest residents too. At first she’d been so shocked to discover that Xander’s mate, Freya, and Braxton’s mate, Neve, were humans that she could barely speak to them, but she was quickly discovering that they were great company, and good sources of advice about what it was like to be a new arrival in the territory.
None of these things made up for the life she’d given up in Pine Bluff, but they helped to take the edge off her sadness and make her loneliness a little more bearable.
The following Wednesday, Rocco came home from a training session earlier than expected and Harper was still in the kitchen cooking. She usually chose to cook when she knew that he’d be out, and she stiffened at the sound of the front door crashing back against the wall.
“Hey,” Rocco said coming into the kitchen.
“Hey.” She automatically threw him a glance over her shoulder. There were dark smudges beneath his eyes and his hair was sticking up in clumps. She recalled how she used to tease him about how he always mussed it on the rare occasions when he was stressed, making him look like a crazy man.
“Got a math test coming up?” she said.
“Huh?” He started scrubbing at the back of his head again.
“I was wondering why you were giving your hair such a hard time.”
“Oh.” He smirked. “It’s nothing. I don’t want to burden you with it. I should get out of your way anyway.” He reached into the fridge for a bottle of beer. “I’m just going to go hunt some dinner.” She couldn’t restrain a little grin. “What is it?” He stood still, the half-smile that she knew so well crooking the edges of his lips.
“Isn’t it time you learned to cook, so you can enjoy having a civilized meal that your mom hasn’t made for you?” she said.
“I guess.” He shrugged, self-conscious, and she couldn’t help softening. She made a quick decision and before she had time to change her mind, she blurted it out.
“I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll teach you how to cook the venison stew I’m making, in exchange for a couple of those beers.” He broke into a grin – the one that made him look like James Dean about to take off on his bike.
“For real?”
“For real.”
Wondering why she was being so nice to him, she showed him how to chop the vegetables efficiently and prepare and season the meat, and he got down to work. The first swig of beer relaxed her immediately, and she let her guard slip a little. Although Rocco was following her instructions with enthusiasm, she sensed that whatever was bothering him was continuing to weigh on his mind.
“So what happened today?” she said. The stew was in the oven, already smelling delicious, and they were sitting at the kitchen table. He let off a long, weary rumble.
“Oh, Xander keeps pressuring me about fighting again.”
“How long has it been since you last wrestled?”
“Three months. He was patient with me at first, after what happened, but he’s getting more and more frustrated now.” She looked down at his hands, which were laying on the table, scarred with huge knuckles, and up at his face, full of conflicted emotions, and once again she was struck by how strong and heroic his features were – that broad, angular jaw and the sharply defined cheekbones.
“But fighting was your life. What happened?” At first he was silent, as if wondering how much to say. Then he got up, grabbed another beer, and told her everything – about how affected he’d been by losing the fight and getting knocked out by the Brook’s Bear. How shattered he’d been by the betrayal by two of his own clan members. And then how Maximus’ betrayal had damaged the clan, so soon after his father had died. Harper listened quietly, forgetting about the chasm between them. For a moment it was just her and Rocco, sitting close, sharing the secrets they could never tell anyone else – just like they used to.
“Thanks, Harper,” Rocco said when he was done. “Everyone’s told me that I’ve got no reason to think that I’ll lose another fight. But no-one understands my fear of losing like you do. How it paralyzes me.” For a moment he looked so broken that, without thinking, she reached out and squeezed his hand.
“That’s because we spent our formative years together, Rocco,” she said. “We shared a lot of stuff, sitting up in that old hay barn, hanging out in the bleachers after school, taking your battered old pickup out for long drives.”
“We did.” He grinned, nodding slowly. She knew he wanted to say more – that they were good times – but he wouldn’t. He understood that it would hurt her.
“I think dinner’s ready,” she said, standing up quickly. Rocco got up too, ladled out the portions into two bowls, and they began to eat.
“Good job, kiddo. This is pretty good,” she said.
“Thanks. It’s an old recipe of mine,” he drawled.
“Doofus!” she kicked him under the table. And suddenly, they were having fun, mocking each other, laughing at each other’s quirks. Rocco still stretched his legs underneath the table as if he had no idea that there was anyone on the other side. And apparently she still threw her head back when she laughed, at anything at all.
It was past ten when they cleared the plates up.
“Are you going to bed?” he asked.
“I guess so.”
“We could go for a drink?” She opened her mouth to say yes. She felt like being out in a bar, continuing their playful conversation. But then something shifted in her head. It was one thing hanging out in ‘their’ home, but another drinking together.
“I can’t. I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she said instead. He made no effort to hide the disappointment in his eyes.
“Okay.” He closed the dishwasher. “Then goodnight, Harper. Sleep well.” He left the room, and a minute later the front door closed and the engine of his motorbike roared into life.
The following Saturday, Harper drove out to Randolph, the nearest big town to Broken Hill, to pick up a few cushions for the cabin sofas. She’d didn’t even know why she
was doing it, except that the sofa currently looked a little bare and unloved, she told herself.
She had fun wandering around the bustling town, stopping for coffee and lunch. She picked out a couple of handmade ceramic vases, as she loved having flowers in the house, some emerald-green and mustard yellow cushions, and a deep pink and indigo throw, then spent several minutes staring into space, trying to figure out whether Rocco would hate them. At last, she shook herself. Why do I even care? He told me to make myself at home, and if he doesn’t like them, that’s his problem. She picked up a sunburnt-orange throw for good measure, and purchased them all.
Back home now, she thought as she walked out of the store. And she caught herself. Like it or not, Broken Hill was becoming her home now. In the weeks that had passed, the initial weirdness was easing off. She now knew where she was before she opened her eyes every morning; she no longer felt awkward using the kitchen. Am I happy to be going home now? she asked herself, cranking the window of her car all the way open and letting the sweet-scented breeze stream in. And then the car lost power, very suddenly. She had just enough time to pull over to the side of the road before it came to a dead stop. She tried to start it up several times; nothing happened. It was as dead as a dinosaur. An alert was flashing on the dash. EPC, it said. She Googled it. It didn’t seem to mean anything good. With a sigh, she picked up her phone. Then she hesitated. Who am I going to call anyway? One of Tarkus’ cousins usually dealt with broken-down cars. Rocco, of course. With an even longer sigh, she dialed his number. There was a delay of 12 rings before he answered.
Bear Cuffs: Bear Shifter Romance (Broken Hill Bears Book 3) Page 4