Cowboy Bear's Fate (Cowboy Brother Bears Book 3)

by Harmony Raines

  They chose a table in the back. The lights were dimmed, and fishing paraphernalia, mainly nets and lobster pots, had been used to create alcoves, giving them privacy.

  “What do you want to drink?” Jon asked.

  Monica felt numb, but answered, “A glass of white wine, please.”

  “And I’ll have a beer,” he told the waiter, who was dressed in something resembling a smuggler’s costume. It was one step away from looking like a pirate; all he needed was a patch over his eye and a parrot on his shoulder, but Monica could see why it would appeal to tourists.

  “So?” Monica asked when the waiter went to get their drinks, leaving them with menus, but she couldn’t concentrate on the words. Her stomach was flipping over with nerves.

  “Let’s order, and then I’ll tell you.”

  “Damn it, you are like the host on one of those shows where they make the contestants hang on a knife’s edge for the results.”

  He placed his hand over hers and squeezed it. “Food first.”

  She funneled her focus into sifting through the dishes on the menu and settled for the paella. Jon ordered the salmon, and the waiter took the menus, and headed off to the kitchen.

  “Your dad doesn’t live there anymore,” Jon said, not making her ask again.

  “Oh.” She felt deflated.

  “But, I do have another name.” He pulled the piece of paper out of his pocket and put it down on the table in front of her.

  “A name. A wife?”

  “A father. Your grandfather.” He pushed it toward her.

  “How long ago did Jasper leave that property?”

  “About ten years ago. But the house belonged to your grandfather.” Jon paused, and then said, “Your dad had a reputation of being a looser. He lived with his father. Sponged off him, by all accounts. When he was short of cash he would get casual jobs along the river. But he never settled into anything.”

  “And why did he move?” Monica asked.

  “Your grandfather’s health failed, and he needed to be taken care of. Your dad didn’t do that, and so your grandfather went into a residential home.”

  “And my dad?”

  “Disappeared. At least that is all the new owner of the house knows. It doesn’t mean Jasper isn’t still in the city somewhere. It also doesn’t mean he didn’t turn his life around. Moving out of his father’s house may have given him the drive to grow up. Make something of his life.”

  “Do you believe that?” Monica asked.

  “I’m an optimistic kind of guy,” Jon answered.

  “So we have another name. My grandfather. Who may be dead, for all we know.”

  “He may be.” Jon sighed and leaned back in his seat. “Do I get the feeling that tomorrow means another stint in the basement?”

  Monica smiled despite herself. “Maybe. Or maybe we can do some modern sleuthing. Internet.” She held up her smartphone and then began tapping on the screen.

  “Thanks,” Jon said as the waiter placed the food down in front of them.

  “Oh, thank you,” Monica said, and then went immediately back to tapping her screen and scrolling through the results.

  “Want me to feed you with a spoon?” Jon asked.

  She looked up at him for an instant. “One more second, sorry to be rude, but I think I have something.”

  “What kind of something?” Jon asked.

  “I’ve found where my grandfather is. There is an article about him.” She put her phone down on the table, and picked up her knife and fork, feeling triumphant.

  “And what are you going to do with that information?” Jon asked.

  “I’m going to go and pay him a visit,” Monica said.

  “Just roll up unannounced and tell him you are his granddaughter?”

  “No.” She shook her head; she had it all planned. “The article is about him serving in the war. Marvin Tinton won a lot of medals. So as a historian, I’m interested. I’ll say I’m going to write an article about him.”

  “That sounds plausible,” Jon said. “Just remember he is an old man, and the shock of finding out he has a granddaughter might make him sick.”

  “I’ll be careful. I just want to ask him some questions, and I will keep it totally on topic.” She took her first taste of the paella, and groaned in ecstasy. “Oh, the taxi driver was not wrong. This is heavenly.”

  “I completely agree,” Jon said, but she couldn’t tell if he mean the food, or his mate.

  Monica experienced a wave of happiness. Whether she found her father or not, she had a lead, a chink of light shone on her other family. If that was all she got, she could be happy.

  Because today had shown her one thing: her future with Jon was more important than a father she didn’t know.

  Chapter Fourteen – Jon

  “I’ve had a wonderful evening,” Jon said as they walked back along the riverside, toward the bright lights of the city. Somewhere in among all those buildings was Monica’s apartment.

  “Me too,” Monica agreed. “Thank you, for coming with me, today. Thank you for coming with me to the city. It’s not your scene, though, is it?”

  “No,” Jon admitted. “I have roamed the mountains all my life, I know each tree and each rock, I could make my way from one side to the other in the dark. But this city, it confuses me. I can’t tell which way is north, and which way is south.” He looked upward. “The buildings, with their lights, block out the night sky.”

  “That is why you have cabs,” Monica said, putting her hand out and hailing one. “They have GPS. Not that most taxi drivers need it, the map of the city is in their head.”

  They got in the taxi and Monica gave the address. She rested against Jon as the vehicle took them across town, and the warmth of her body ignited his desire. Jon put his arm around her shoulders, and caressed her skin with his fingers. She snuggled closer to him, and turned her face up to look at him, her tongue flicking out to moisten her lips.

  “Irresistible,” he murmured as he lowered his head and kissed her. She sighed, opening her mouth for him to push his tongue inside, so that their tongues could dance with each other. His arousal was intense. When they got out of the cab, it was going to be hard to hide how much he wanted her. Hard. Funny. He was incredibly hard.

  “We’re here,” she whispered as the cab pulled over. They parted, and he hated losing the touch of her body against his. But at least they could go up to her apartment and make love.

  He got out, held out his hand for Monica, and helped her out of the taxi. She seemed unsteady on her feet. She’d only had one glass of wine, and they had walked some way before they got in the cab and she had been fine. That only meant one thing: she was intoxicated by desire too.

  She paid the cab and then got her key out of her purse. Her hand shook as she pushed the key in the lock, and turned it. The knowledge of her arousal made his kick up a notch. Damn, he wanted her.

  The door opened and they entered the building, going to the elevator and pressing a button to call it down. Jon stood close to Monica, her hand in his, their fingers entwined. She belonged to him, and soon he would claim her. Soon everyone would know she was his. He would fill her with his seed and put a child in her belly.

  The elevator pinged, announcing its arrival, pulling him from his daydream of mating with Monica, and the children they would have. She stepped in first, and he followed, the doors closing behind them. Before the elevator had begun to move she was in his arms, and he was kissing her, hard, fierce, passionate.

  Monica threaded her hand between their bodies and stroked his rock-hard shaft. Did she know what she was doing to him? Did she know if he didn’t keep himself under control he was going to come in his pants, when he really wanted to come inside her?

  Damn, he shouldn’t think about being inside of her. He should not imagine her sex sheathing his cock. And he should not think about how wet she would be, and how she would taste on his tongue.

  The elevator stopped and they parted as the
doors opened. With some difficulty, they left the elevator and made it to her door. The desire in her eyes made him certain that tonight they would consummate their relationship.

  Monica’s hand trembled too much to get the key in the lock, and he took it from her, needing to get inside her apartment and strip her naked as soon as was humanly possible. No! As soon as was shifterly possible. Was that even a word?

  The key turned, the door opened, and they spilled into the room, tearing at each other’s clothes as they moved through to the living room, and then took a right to the bedroom. Shoes were discarded, followed by her dress, with his shirt landing only inches away from it on the floor of her apartment. She walked backward, tugging at his belt, which he helped her with, and then the buttons of his jeans were undone, and he stepped out of them as he followed her.

  Standing by the side of her bed, they faced each other, clothed in only their underwear. Well, that had to go too. She unclasped her bra and let it drop to the floor. Jon was mesmerized by her breasts: they were full, ripe for kissing, her nipples hard buds needing to be sucked and licked.

  Monica kept her eyes on him as she pushed her panties down over her round thighs. Bending down, she eased them over her knees, each movement of her body making him harder, until he was in agony.

  “Are you going to strip too?” Monica asked, standing back up, allowing him to gaze at every inch of her body.

  “Hell, yeah!” His boxers were a forgotten memory in seconds and then they were spilling onto the bed, his body between her thighs. “I want to lick and kiss every inch of your body, but if I do that I am going to explode.”

  “We can’t have that, can we?” she asked, whispering in his ear, her breath caressing his skin. “I think you need to fuck me, cowboy.”

  “Hell, yeah!” he said, and she collapsed into giggles.

  “Ride ’em, cowboy,” she said.

  “Ride you. With pleasure.” He guided the head of his cock toward her wet sex, the sensations that flooded his body as he slid inside her were almost too much. “Fuck,” he ground out through gritted teeth.

  “That is the idea,” she gasped as he filled her completely in one long lunge. “Fuck.”

  She was tight, sheathing him just like he had imagined. No. Better than he had imagined. Jon flexed his hips back, pulling away from her and then lunged forward again. Her sex yielded to him, and he circled his hips to stretch her wide, making Monica writhe under him. Her movement spurred him on, and he took her harder, her moans of encouragement the best aphrodisiac in the world.

  In and out. Long, slow lunges became quicker, as he thrust deep inside her, his climax close, but he had to hold on.

  Monica slid her hands down his back and urged him on, her fingers digging into his butt. Small cries escaped her mouth, building in intensity until she cried out. Her sex pulsed around his cock, and he let himself go, his seed spurting inside her as he came.

  Jon gripped the covers in his right hand, and cried out, the intensity of his climax like nothing he had ever experienced. His thrusts became short, harder, until he collapsed, completely spent and completely sated.

  “Fuck,” he said.

  “I agree, fuck,” Monica said, her breasts heaving as she tried to regain her breath. “That was incredible. Not that I have a lot to compare it to.”

  “It was incredible, believe me,” he said, rolling over to lie next to her. He took her in his arms and held her close.

  “Now all we have to do is make the rest of our lives fit together perfectly,” Monica said.

  “We will.” He stroked her skin absently. “Want to hear how we make it work?”

  She laughed. “I guess this isn’t your usual pillow talk.”

  “No. But then, we aren’t a usual couple.” He rolled over to lie on his side, his arm draped over her stomach.

  “Go for it,” she said.

  “I can’t take all the credit. It was Ethan’s idea.”

  “Was it? Should I be worried?”

  “No, it’s a good idea.” He kissed her cheek. “He suggested we open a museum of our own in Bear Bluff.”

  “Bear Bluff? A museum?” She sat up in bed and pulled the sheet up around her. “It’s a good idea, except for one thing. Museums don’t exactly make money. They need funding.”

  “Which I think we can get.”

  “From whom?” Monica asked, her voice intrigued.

  “If I can get you the funding you need, would you consider it?” He pulled himself up in the bed to sit next to her.

  “Yes. Yes, I would. But only if it’s going to be done properly. I don’t want this to be some project simply to get me to live in Black Bear Ford.”

  “It’s not. I promise. It would go hand in hand with another project.”

  “Which you aren’t going to tell me about?” Monica asked.

  “It’s a surprise, but it does mean I’m going to have to go back home. Right after we see your grandfather.”

  “I can do that on my own,” she said. “You don’t need to babysit me, honestly.” She looked up at the ceiling and then said, “I’m coming to Black Bear Ford this weekend. I want to see my mom and dad and tell them I love them.” Monica brushed her hair back from her face. “Do you think they’ll forgive me?”

  “For what?” Jon asked gently.

  “For making them feel as if they aren’t good enough.” She hiccuped but swallowed her sobs. “Because that’s what I’ve done, isn’t it?”

  “No. Most people would want to find out who their parents are. They will understand. Yes, it probably hurts right now. But you need to show them how much they mean to you.”

  “I will. I’ll see my granddad tomorrow, but no matter what, I am coming home. I don’t care who my dad is.”

  “You don’t?” Jon asked.

  “No. Look, from what you were told, he didn’t look after his own father, even though he gave him a home for years. What kind of man does that?” She snuggled back down under the covers, her head on the pillow. “He’s not the kind of man I want to have as my father. Tomorrow, I want to check to see if my granddad is happy, and check the facts about my father. Then I’m going to move on with my life.” She took his hand and kissed it. “With our life.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” He lay down next to her, and they fell asleep in each other’s arms. Monica was right; this was the beginning of their future. The past was the past.

  Chapter Fifteen – Monica

  Monica stood nervously outside of the doors leading to the home where her grandfather lived. It would be so easy to turn around and walk away, and she might have, if Jon wasn’t there with her. He didn’t have to say a word to let her know he supported her every step of the way.

  “OK. Let’s do this.” She pulled the door open and went inside, heading for the reception area. “Hi, I wondered if I could visit Marvin Tinton.”

  “Are you a relative?” the woman asked, whose name badge told Monica she was talking to Iris.

  “I’m Monica Williams.” She pulled out her museum ID, and flashed under Iris’s nose as if it were an official badge. “I’m from the city museum and I wanted to talk to Marvin about his medals. I’m writing an article about living history, and Marvin fits the bill. I saw the article in the local paper and wanted to expand on it.”

  “Oh, Marv loves talking about those days.” Iris swung the visitors’ book in her direction. “You’ll have to sign in. Both of you, if Dimples wants to visit too.” Iris flashed Jon a wicked smile, and Monica felt a stab of possessive jealousy hit her.

  “Thanks. Dimples, do you want the pen?” Monica passed the pen to Jon, who smiled at her, and then at Iris. Damn him, he was enjoying this.

  “OK, here are some visitor badges. Bring them back to me when you are done. Marv is in the day room, you can’t miss him: he’s the one with the blanket over his legs even though it’s summer, and the grouchiest expression out of them all.”

  “Thanks. Through here?”

  Iris nodded. “Can’t m
iss it, says Day Room right on the door.” Dimples flashed Iris a smile, and in return she asked, “Want some coffee?”

  “That would be great,” Monica said. All she got in return was a look that said, I wasn’t asking you. “White, no sugar.”

  “Make that two white, no sugar, thanks, Iris,” Dimples said.

  Monica made her way along the corridor to the day room, trying to ignore the sound of Jon chuckling. “Is that what I look like when you speak to another man?” Jon asked.

  “Sometimes,” Monica said, scanning the room for Marvin.

  “I like that you are jealous. It means you like me, huh?”

  “Don’t push it, Dimples,” Monica replied hotly. “You are a flirt.”

  “I am not,” he said, denying it.

  Monica arched her eyebrow. “So what was that all about?”

  “I’m young, fit, and highly toned.” He flexed his muscles, earning him a scowl from Monica. “What’s not to like, when you are surrounded by people who are here waiting to die.”

  “They are not.” However, one look around the room showed more than a few faces who were nearing the point where life held no meaning. The home was clean, and she guessed the patients were well fed and cared for. But there was something sad about it. Like they were shut off from the outside world. From the living world. “Now I’m depressed.”

  “OK, I think I see our man,” Jon said, and pushed the door open, holding it for Monica to go through.

  She walked into the room, and turned to see Iris heading their way. Jon held the door for Iris, who smiled, batted her eyelashes, and said, “A cowboy, and a gentleman.”

  “A cowboy through and through,” Jon assured her, and then took the two cups off Iris, and said, “Thank you.”

  He cracked her his best dimpled smile and Monica was sure Iris was going to faint. The woman was nearly old enough to be Jon’s mom, with hair dyed one shade too bright to be a natural red. Maybe it was her way of brightening up the place, and Monica let her undeserved animosity slide.