Big Bear Father: BBW Werebear Surprise Baby Romance (Sweetwater Father Bears)

by Anya Nowlan

  I need to make sure.

  “Alright, alright. Enough with the sweet talk, pretty boy,” she replied, pushing out her hip as she studied him. “Where do we head first?”

  “Come on, I’ll lead the way.”

  Deirdre fell into step next to him, her deep and warm scent swirling all around him. Taking his time, Oliver lazily strolled towards the park, enjoying having her by his side.

  “So, sleep well?” he asked, not knowing where to start.

  There were so many things he wanted to know about her. At the same time, he could listen to her read the phone book with that honeyed voice of hers and be perfectly content. And then there was the fact that he didn’t want her to catch on where they were going, or she might change her mind about this whole thing.

  Best to keep her talking, and distracted.

  “The room was very nice, but there’s something about sleeping in your own bed, you know?”

  “I can imagine.”

  Oliver had never really had that feeling of belonging somewhere thoroughly enough to call it home, but Deirdre’s sentiment was not lost on him. He had never been the settling down type, but he guessed there was something to staying in one place for more than a couple of months.

  Why else were people so obsessed with finding their white picket fence dream?

  “And Hope? It must be tough being a single mom after your fiancé ran off.”

  He couldn’t imagine leaving a woman like Deirdre, especially when there was a child in the mix. Whatever differences she and her fiancé had, Hope shouldn’t suffer because of them. Having lost his own father when he was just a cub, Oliver knew how important a role model like that was.

  Hell, he might have turned out very differently if he had another bear in the house, keeping him on the straight and narrow. His mom had done her best, and then some. That woman deserved an award for her patience.

  Regardless, dad’s death still left a bitterness in his soul he could never shake. It felt like his father had put the clan before his family, and that kind of sting didn’t subside easily, especially when Oliver had never felt like he was a part of a clan. Though he knew his father fought tooth and nail to get back to him and his mom, it hadn’t been enough.

  And here Deirdre’s fiancé seemed to have bailed with no fight at all. He could feel his rage starting to bubble for her.

  “Oh no, Hope’s not Shawn’s baby,” Deirdre quickly explained, looking a bit flustered.

  She looked like she was thinking something over, deciding if she should elaborate or not. Oliver almost stopped in his tracks, confused by where this was going. He managed to catch himself just in time to stay silent and wait for her to speak when she was ready.

  “In fact, she’s not my baby, either,” she finally said, worrying her lower lip as she stared up at him.

  Oliver paused, finding himself dragging the air for scent.

  How did I not notice it before…?

  He’d been so preoccupied with telling himself that Hope wasn’t his the previous night that he’d missed one key thing. She might not have been his child, but she was definitely a werebear. And Deirdre definitely was not.

  And the plot thickens.

  Seven

  Deirdre

  Why the hell am I telling him these things? Deirdre wondered, shocked at the things that kept falling out of her mouth.

  She wasn’t one to blab about her personal affairs to anyone who would listen, but then again, Dean didn’t feel like just anyone. And he was helping her when he absolutely didn’t have to. That earned him some honesty, at least.

  “I hope you’re not about to confess to kidnapping,” he joked, leading her towards a treeline coming up ahead.

  “No, nothing like that. I’m Hope’s legal guardian, I’m just not her biological mom.”

  Foot traffic around them slowed down as they reached a lush green park only a short walk away from the town center, vibrant and alive with the sound of people enjoying the sunny day. It was autumn now and warm days were a rare blessing to be cherished.

  Dean led the way on one of the footpaths leading into the park, looking right at home surrounded by nature.

  “That’s good to know. Wouldn’t have wanted to report you to the sheriff.”

  Nothing seemed to rattle the man. Whatever she sprung on him, he just shrugged it off. It was nice to not worry about whether what she said next would be too shocking. Dean wasn’t the type of man to get thrown off easily, she was learning that much.

  “Are we looking for Oliver in the park?” she asked, focusing back on the task at hand. “Do you think he’ll hang out here?”

  It was too easy to get sidetracked in Dean’s company. The tight shirt he was wearing wasn’t really helping, either. Or the way his ass looked in those worn jeans he was wearing. The whole package was pretty distracting, really.

  Even the way he moved, like he was in control of every muscle in his body, spoke of confidence and determination. He could probably take her on a ride of her life if she let him. Her stomach was already doing cartwheels just from walking close to him, if he reached out and touched her…

  Dean glanced back at her, throwing her a knowing grin, like he knew exactly what she was thinking about.

  “We can ask around later. For now, I think we deserve a break from all this vigorous searching,” he said, coming to a stop near a small clearing, shaded by a clump of trees.

  Reaching into his backpack, he pulled out a blanket and waved it at her with a wink.

  “Wait a minute…” Deirdre started to protest, hand flying to her hip.

  “Oh, relax. You’re so tightly wound. A little picnic won’t derail your search mission.”

  “I think you’re doing a good enough job with that already,” she shot back.

  “I brought coffee,” he added in a sing-song voice, pulling out a thermos.

  I could use some caffeine…

  “Fine,” she pouted, maneuvering the stroller onto the grass. “But no dilly-dallying,” she warned.

  “Dilly-dallying? What are you, a grandpa in disguise?” he laughed, already spreading out the blanket. “Besides, you just dropped a bomb on me and I feel a little faint. I think I need to sit down right next to you.”

  He tossed her a wink and patted the blanket beside him invitingly as he plopped down on it.

  How can he be so irritating and so charming at the same time? Deirdre wondered, checking on Hope before plopping down on the ground.

  The little girl was still asleep, but she wouldn’t be for long. Luckily Deirdre had brought along a bottle and some toys, in case the baby woke up hungry and cranky. Hope was especially fussy lately, and Deirdre couldn’t help but feel it was because of her. She was doing the best she could, but she could never replace Jamie.

  Not that she would ever even attempt to.

  Her cousin’s face was so clear in her mind, that sometimes she wanted to reach out and ask Jamie what she should do next. Unfortunately, she still had to figure that out on her own.

  “You must be carrying something heavy with that thousand-yard stare,” Dean commented, handing her a hot cup of coffee that he’d poured from the thermos.

  “I don’t think you want me to lay my issues on you any more than I already have,” she replied, curling her fingers around the plastic mug.

  “Let me decide if that’s what I want or not. If talking about it helps ease your burden even a little bit, go for it. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m a big boy.”

  Looking into Dean’s eyes, Deirdre took a deep breath. His gaze was softer than usual as he smiled at her, encouraging her to let it all out. The roguish glint in them was gone as he sat opposite her, almost close enough for their bodies to touch, but not quite.

  Only her closest friends knew the story, and even they didn’t get all the details. It hadn’t seemed like they wanted to know, either. Everyone had their own shit the go through in life, and the last thing they needed was someone to pile on with their sob stories.


  When Deirdre had told her friends in Atlanta, they had nodded and looked appropriately sad and shocked, but she knew there was nothing anyone could do to make her feel better or give Hope her mom back.

  So she had thought it best to avoid the subject altogether after one or two conversations. Talking about it only brought everyone down, and she didn’t feel like depressing her friends. They were empathetic enough to patiently listen and murmur compassionate words, but Deirdre could tell they would rather be discussing something else.

  Maybe it was just her imagination, but she couldn’t help the way she felt either way.

  Dean seemed different. He wasn’t afraid to address the darker parts of life and call it like he saw it. And he was asking…

  “I said Hope is not my child, and that’s the truth. But we are related. She’s my cousin’s daughter.”

  Dean continued sipping on his coffee, the only indication he was affected by this piece of information was his clear green eyes widening, just for a fraction of a second. He didn’t interrupt, nodding at Deirdre to let her know she was free to continue.

  “My cousin’s name was Jacqueline, but we all called her Jamie,” she said with a weak smile, recalling how inseparable they used to be as little girls. “We were close as kids, two peas in a pod, but lost touch after her family moved away. A little over a month ago she showed up on my doorstep with Hope in her arms.”

  Dean sat still before her, looking invested but not like he was pitying her. She carried on, already feeling a little relieved despite the tears welling up in her eyes.

  “I knew right away something was wrong. She looked sick, I just had no idea how bad it really was. She had cancer, terminal. The end had been creeping up on her for a while.”

  Deirdre took another breath, willing the beads of pain away from herself as she spoke, trying to keep her voice clear.

  “She told me about a man she’d met. They’d had an instant connection, and she knew she didn’t have a lot of time left. So she thought what the hell and had a one-night stand with the guy. You know, one last hurrah, and all that.

  “Then, no more than five months later, she gave birth to a baby girl. It came as a shock, because she was getting sicker by the day even during the pregnancy. She’d lost so much weight it wasn’t until almost the end that anyone figured out that she was pregnant at all.

  “She tried to find the guy, let him know he was a father and that she wasn’t going to be around for long, but it was like he had vanished. All she could scrounge up was the name of his best friend. Oliver Atwater.”

  Dean had become a little too motionless, sitting like a statue and staring at her. He looked like time had stopped around him and enclosed him in a cocoon of nothingness.

  Maybe this was a mistake. It all sounds like a bad soap opera. He must think I’m crazy.

  Eight

  Oliver

  Oliver couldn’t even move. The thoughts rushing through his head demanded all of his attention, so he just sat and stared at Deirdre, trying to take in what she had just told him.

  It has to be Dray she’s talking about. He is Hope’s father. Dray had a kid…

  It hit him like a sledgehammer to the chest. Deirdre was here for him because she was hoping he would lead her to Dray. Little did she know, that was impossible. Unless she wanted to be shown the man’s headstone.

  “Is Jamie…” he trailed off, already guessing the answer.

  “She passed away a month ago,” Deirdre replied, looking away, her eyes shiny.

  That meant Hope was now out a mother and a father. How could he possibly tell Deirdre that? She had come all this way, spent who knows how much time tracking him down in hopes of it all leading to Dray, and all he had to offer her was disappointment.

  “Lung cancer,” she added, sniffling a bit before gathering herself. “She went a little crazy in college, got in with a bad crowd. Her family was very strict, Catholic to the core, all that. They practically disowned her years ago and she certainly couldn’t go to them with a child born out of wedlock. So she came to me.”

  Oliver shook himself out of the stupor he was in. Deirdre was taking a chance trusting him with all of this. He couldn’t freeze up on her now. However stunned and despicable he was feeling, he would have to deal with it later.

  “That must have been some surprise. You said you hadn’t seen each other since you were kids,” he remarked after a moment of silence, his voice soft.

  His attention moved to Hope, who was staring at him quietly from the stroller. She was a little sleepy-eyed but otherwise alert. And she had Dray’s eyes.

  He studied her features with a whole new kind of interest. No wonder the girl had felt so familiar that he had to stop and confirm to himself that she wasn’t his.

  She was Dray’s. She was the closest thing to family he could have at this point.

  “I couldn’t believe it at first. Then I was so happy to see her again, I wrapped her in the tightest hug I could. That’s when I felt how bony and frail she was. She told me her story and I bawled my eyes out, in between admiring how beautiful her baby girl was.

  “It was a tough night, to say the least.”

  “You said Hope was born five months after Jamie met her father?” Oliver asked, trying to gauge how much Deirdre knew.

  Shifter pregnancies were faster than human ones. A lot of people knew that now that shifters were out in the open, but then again, a lot of people didn’t. It would be good to know which camp Deirdre belonged to.

  “Yeah, it’s all a bit crazy. See, this guy, Dray, was a shifter,” she said, leaning forward like she was telling him something hard-to-believe and mysterious. “The whole pregnancy hit Jamie really hard. Carrying a shifter baby is intense and she was already ill. By the time she gave birth, she was in bad shape.”

  “And she never even heard from Dray again?”

  “All she had was a first name. It wasn’t much to go on. She went back to the bar they met at, the Dirty Dozen. The bartender did remember Dray, but he didn’t have a last name, either. He did know the guy Dray usually hung out with.

  “He was a regular there and his name was Oliver Atwater. I promised Jamie I would do my best to find Hope’s father, and I started with this Oliver guy. I tracked down the apartment complex he was staying at and one of the guys there told me he heard Oliver mention heading to Sweetwater next.”

  It had to be the same night, Oliver suddenly realized, his heart constricting in his chest.

  They had gotten separated at the Dirty Dozen the night Dray died, with his friend going over to talk to some girl while Oliver tried to chat up a waitress. They had lost track of each other while Oliver hit up a couple of other bars when he couldn’t reach Dray on his phone.

  After a couple of hours, Dray finally returned his calls and picked him up from back at the Dirty Dozen to drive them both home. He had smelled like sweet perfume, a huge smile on his face, raving about a woman he had met. Every superlative Dray could think of, he used to describe this girl of his dreams that he’d just met.

  Oliver remembered teasing him about not getting the chick’s number and putting a bit of a damper on Dray’s good mood. But Dray hadn’t let it keep him down for long. He had been to her place and he planned to go back in the morning for a proper introduction.

  After all, he had been sure he had just found his mate.

  He never did get a chance to go back. He didn’t get a chance to do anything.

  Oliver tried to stay in the moment with Deirdre, but it crushed him that Dray never even got to know he was going to be a father. He would have been a great one.

  That’s what he would have needed to clean up his act, get on the straight and narrow. A mate and a baby.

  Thank the spirits that Deirdre was there to take Hope in, or who knows what might have become of his best friend’s daughter.

  “So you put your own life on hold to fulfill your promise to your cousin? And became her daughter’s legal guardian?”

&
nbsp; Deirdre just shrugged her shoulders like it was no big deal.

  “Family is family. Jamie and I were like sisters once. Of course, I was going to do anything I could to help her. Hope deserves to know her father, promise or no promise.”

  Without even meaning to, Deirdre was twisting the dagger in his heart. Little Hope was never going to meet her father, and he had played a part in that. All the guilt he had been carrying since that fateful night came crashing back down on him like a ton of bricks.

  But through that, he was still able to be impressed by what Deirdre was trying to do. She was as loyal as any shifter he had ever met and then some, without even acknowledging how special and selfless she was.

  What a woman.

  “You are something else, Deirdre. Thank you for telling me your story. I’m sorry for all you have had to go through. Hope is lucky to have you and so was Jamie. I can’t imagine how awful saying goodbye to one’s child must be, but at least she had the peace of mind of knowing her daughter would be well cared for.”

  So many emotions flitted across Deirdre’s gorgeously crafted features, it was hard to keep up. Oliver reached out and took her hand in his, hoping it offered her some reassurance.

  Opening her mouth to speak, she squeezed his fingers, staring at him with unshed tears in her eyes. He had never felt so connected to anyone than he felt to Deirdre in that moment.

  Before she could say what she wanted to say, Hope began to cry in her stroller and Deirdre slid her hand away, standing to tend to the little one.

  There’s so much I need to say to her, I don’t even know where to begin.

  Nine

  Deirdre

  Scooping up Hope, Deirdre rocked the crying baby in her arms, murmuring soothing sounds. It didn’t do much good, as Hope squeezed her eyes shut and wailed, unaffected by Deirdre’s attempts at calming her down.

  “Where did I put that bottle…?” Deirdre mumbled under her breath, holding Hope while stuffing a hand into one of the stroller’s pouches.