Leeward Bear (BBW Shifter Romance) (Fisherbears Book 3)

by Becca Fanning

  She absently fingered the wooden pendant at her neck as she watched her grandfather speaking with the mayor of Sitka. Across the room, her mother, the master mingler, spoke to the library’s director, a woman who’d always reminded Joanna of Miss Marple. Another woman with dark, curly hair pulled back by a headband stood next to them, looking as bored as Joanna felt.

  She watched as a tall man with white-blond hair sidled up to the younger woman, putting an arm around her waist. The woman smiled up at him, and his eyes crinkled as he beamed at her. His honey-colored eyes.

  Joanna raised her brows in surprise. Two weeks ago, she would have been certain there were no shifters in this area. Sitka was a small town, and she knew almost everyone, at least by sight. But now here were two shifters she’d never met before - this blond man who was obviously in love with the librarian, and Joanna’s mystery man from the woods.

  She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that man for the past twelve days. His tanned skin, his amber eyes, his smile, that deep bass, those full lips. The mere memory of his touch sent shivers up her spine and heat straight to her core. It had been, quite simply, the best kiss of her life.

  She’d been looking for him all over town. She’d scanned every aisle in the grocery store, had walked the waterfront every evening, eyes scanning the docks for his hulking figure. She’d even taken that same hiking trail in the woods more than once, hoping to catch sight of either human or bear. But despite all her efforts, she had yet to see him again.

  She sighed, pushing off from the bookshelf. She needed alcohol to get her through the mind-numbing evening of backslapping and ass-kissing. Her head was already pounding, and she hadn't even been here ten minutes. She turned, intending to make her way to the makeshift bar that had been set up by the circulation desk.

  And ran smack dab into someone. A tall, muscular, cedar-scented someone.

  She looked up into the very honey-gold eyes she’d been seeking for nearly two weeks. A grin slowly spread across her face. Her night just got a whole lot better.

  He grabbed her elbows to steady her, opening his mouth to speak.

  “I’m sor-” He stopped in the middle of his apology when he realized who she was. His mouth closed with an audible snap.

  She grinned up at him. “Well, there you are,” she all but purred. Just the sight of him got her motor revving again. Her skin felt tight and hot, like she was bursting to get out of her own body.

  Her words seemed to bring him up short. His mouth popped open again, and his eyebrows were knitted together in confusion. “Have you been looking for me?”

  Her smile turned coy. “Maybe.”

  He shook his head. His grip tightened slightly on her elbow, and he led her a few feet away, to a deserted aisle in the stacks of the library. They were out of earshot from the crowd, but he still lowered his voice. “Listen, uh.” He stuttered to a stop, and she could swear she saw a blush color his cheeks. “What is your name?”

  She chuckled. “I guess we were a bit too busy last time to exchange names, huh?” He ducked his head, looking off through the massive plate glass windows. The view of the Sound was breathtaking from here, but he seemed to look right through it. She sighed. “It’s Joanna.”

  His eyes snapped to hers, and his pupils darkened slightly. “Joanna.”

  Oh, but she liked the way her name sounded in that deep, rumbly bass of his. “And you’re Sherman,” she ventured.

  He nodded. “Joanna,” he whispered, stepping closer. He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, and she leaned into his hand, like a bird preening for its mate. “Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

  Cliched though the compliment was, she had to lock her knees to keep from swooning. Joanna didn’t get many compliments on her looks. The most flattering word she’d ever heard was “striking.” More often, it was “unusual.” She had the flat cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes that were typical of her people, but she also had a severe mouth and a beak-like nose that was too big for her face.

  But here was Sherman, the handsomest man she’d ever seen, telling her she was beautiful. Not once, but twice. He’d said it that day in the woods, too, and it had only been the heady sensation of doing something so illicit, kissing a stranger in the woods, that had kept her from remarking on it then. But she remembered it now, and it filled her with a giddy feeling, warm and sweet, fizzing through her veins and making her head spin. He thought she was beautiful.

  She looked up into those amber eyes, and she was once again swept away with the overwhelming urge to kiss him, to touch him, and more. So much more. She couldn’t say where this almost animalistic attraction had come from, or why it had to be to a man her family wouldn’t want for her, and who didn’t seem to want to be with her, either. But it was here, and it couldn’t be ignored.

  And looking at him now, she could see that he was having trouble ignoring it, too. His head might be saying no, but his body was all but shouting yes. He was leaning into her, one hand cupping her face, the other reaching for her waist, his eyes hooded and dark. And his khakis were probably causing him a bit of pain at the moment, judging by the way his erection pressed against the seam of his fly.

  His hand landed on her hip, and he pulled her flush against him, pressing his hips into her. She ground against him, and he inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring.

  “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he whispered.

  She grinned, feeling like she had trapped her prey at last. “I’m just trying to arrive at a subjective truth.”

  He raised an eyebrow, the slight smile playing at his lips encouraging her to continue.

  “For instance,” she whispered. “I can see that you want me.” She brushed her knuckles across his hard-on, and he hissed. “And you can feel that I want you,” she continued, taking his hand and placing it on her upper thigh, under her skirt. His hand gently skated across the sensitive flesh, higher and higher, until it brushed against the damp scrap of cotton covering her pussy. “But it’s how we act on those facts that determine the truth of this situation.”

  A slow smile spread across his face, stretching those plump lips wide. “And how will we act on those facts?”

  She grabbed his hand where it was still buried under her skirt, lightly stroking her folds. “We’re getting out of here and going someplace more private.”

  She turned, pulling him behind her. She headed away from the people gathered in the soaring atrium of the library, looking around carefully to make sure no one was watching them. He followed, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. “You remembered my little lesson,” he whispered, his warm breath washing over her neck. “I’m impressed.”

  She chuckled, the sound much huskier than usual. “I’ve never had a man try to seduce me with philosophy. That’s the impressive thing.”

  “Try?” he growled, nipping her earlobe lightly.

  She stumbled. God, that felt good. She wanted his lips and tongue and teeth and hands and everything, everywhere.

  His arms tightened around her waist, steadying her. She leaned into him for a moment, loving the way his hard chest felt against her back. At first glance, one would think he was stocky, almost fat. Like a bear. But like a bear, he was deceptively powerful, muscled and firm in all the right places. She wiggled her ass against him, and he grunted.

  “We need to find that private place soon, or I’m going to give everybody a different kind of show than what they came for,” he rumbled.

  She giggled. “I know a spot,” she said, thinking of her dad’s old cabin in the woods. It was cramped and probably messy, but it was private. “Did you drive here?”

  He pulled back, and she stopped short. She turned to face him, watching as he pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “Yeah. Let me just text my buddy to let him know he needs to get another ride home.”

  She smiled, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. She felt that nervous excitement that only comes once in a while - Christmas morning, her birthday
, first day of summer vacation. She laughed, mentally adding “about to have mind-blowing sex” to the list. And she was sure it would be mind-blowing. Every touch from Sherman lit her nerves on fire, turning her inside out. She was certain that once she finally got him inside her, she’d explode.

  She stepped into him, sneaking a finger in his belt loop to pull him closer. He looked up, sliding his phone back into his pocket and grinning.

  But then she heard a familiar voice calling her name, and her happiness imploded, like someone had stuck a pin in the balloon of anticipation building inside her.

  She turned her head, watching as her mother strode toward her. “Joanna, what are you doing?”

  Her mother’s mouth, a long, severe line much like her own, was tipped down into a frown as she came toward them.

  Joanna cleared her throat and stepped away from Sherman, but not before her mother saw how close they’d been standing, or the hand Joanna still had at his hip, finger bent in his belt loop. She pulled her hand away hastily, but it got tangled, and she struggled for a moment, growing increasingly frustrated. Why does this have to happen at the worst possible time? she thought bitterly.

  Finally, she got her hand free, and she planted it on her hip, trying to look casual. “What’s up?” she asked, sounding a bit too breathless to be believable. “Did you need me for something?”

  Her mother’s eyes narrowed as she looked from Sherman to Joanna, her lips pursing further and further with each pass. “I’ll need you to take your grandfather home.”

  Joanna glanced at her watch, frowning. “But I thought we were staying until nine? Grandpa said-”

  “Your grandfather is not feeling well, Joanna,” her mother said, cutting her off. Her brow furrowed in anger as she looked over at Sherman. “That’s enough slacking off. It’s time to do your duty to your family.”

  Joanna closed her eyes, digging her nails into her palms. She was so tired of doing her duty, so tired of being the perfect little Tlingit princess, ambassador for the tribe to the world at large. Just once, she wanted to disobey, wanted to rebel, wanted to run away.

  When she opened her eyes, her gaze landed on Sherman. She wanted nothing more than to grab him by the belt loop again and drag him away to her secluded spot. She’d have his clothes off before he could blink, and then she’d find out if his human side was as wild as the bear within.

  Her mother cleared her throat, alerting her to the fact that she'd been staring at Sherman, her eyes no doubt telegraphing the lust coursing through her body. She'd never been very good at keeping her feelings to herself. Every thought, every emotion was always written in her eyes, for those who cared to read them.

  She flushed, looking away. “I'll be there in a moment,” she told her mother.

  Her mother huffed softly, but otherwise made no reply as she strode away, her ramrod straight posture befitting her chieftain ancestry. Joanna merely thought, as she always did, that her mother looked like she had a stick up her ass.

  Sherman cleared his throat, and she turned to him, pasting on an apologetic look. “I'm sorry. She can be a bit… harsh.”

  He shook his head. “It's okay. I shouldn't have let this happen again,” he said. “I really can't get into anything right now.”

  She smiled, but it felt forced. She felt edgy and uncomfortable all of a sudden, and she wasn't sure why. “You sure about that?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I'm sorry. I wish I could. I can't seem to stop thinking about you.” His golden eyes were huge as he looked down at her. He almost looked like he was pleading with her to give him a reason to change his mind.

  She chuffed. “I can't stop thinking about you, either.” Her eyes narrowed. “But I'm getting tired of this game.” She gestured with her hand to where her mother had just been. “You see what I'm up against. You see how hard it would be for me. But I'm willing to give it a shot anyway. Because I think we could be something special. Even if it’s just for now.”

  He looked torn. She could tell he wanted to give in, but something was holding him back. He bit his lip, and her blood rose.

  “You know what?” She slid her hand in his pocket, pulling his phone back out. She saved her name in his contacts, then handed it back to him. “When you get that fence post out of your butt, give me a call.”

  And then she walked away.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Joanna slammed the front door, stomping through the house, up the stairs, and to her room. And then she slammed the bedroom door, too, just for good measure.

  She flopped onto the bed with a huff. She was in a foul mood. She’d spent the twenty minute drive from downtown Sitka stewing over Sherman’s indecision, her mother’s rudeness, and her dissatisfaction with her life in general. She’d graduated from college with a degree in graphic design two years ago, and she felt like she hadn’t done much of anything since then. She still lived at home with her mother, two younger sisters, and grandfather. She still worked in the bait and tackle shop her grandfather owned, though now her mother ran it.

  And she still sat back and took it every single time her mother criticized her. Every single thing she did was wrong. Everything from the way she wore her hair to the way she spoke was picked apart. Her plans to make a website for the shop, to update the signs and advertising, were a frivolous waste of money. And forget about moving out. To hear her mother tell it, Joanna could barely be trusted to make toast. And even then she’d probably burn it.

  Like Joanna’s resentful thoughts had conjured her, her mother opened the door. Without asking.

  Joanna bit the inside of her lip as she sat up straight. God, she really needed to get out of this house. She was actually regressing. Her thoughts were no different from a sullen teenager’s. Even this mood was more befitting one of her younger sisters. Actually, Bianca’s overall attitude, at fourteen, was usually more mature than Joanna was acting right now.

  “What were you doing with the bear-man?” her mother demanded, without preamble.

  Joanna bit back the retort she wanted to give, that she’d been about to fuck his brains out in the middle of the Sitka Public Library. “We were just talking. Why?”

  Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare lie to me, Joanna Sky Killfeather. What were you doing with the bear-man?”

  Joanna took a deep breath. “I was talking to him. I met him while I was hiking a couple of weeks ago. We were talking about how pretty the mountain is this late in the summer.” She tried not to let the half-lie show on her face, but she was sure she’d failed.

  Her mother’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline, her eyes widened in outrage. “You see? This is what happens when you go out into the woods. The woods are full of danger. They’re dark, and dank, and unsafe.”

  Joanna frowned. They’d had this argument so many times. It was all a bunch of nonsense, as far as she was concerned. The old Tlingit superstitions about the woods, about the mountains, even about bears, were just that - superstition. Silly old religion that no one believed anymore. There was no truth to the old mothers’ tales. The woods were perfectly safe, if you kept your head on straight and your eyes open.

  Her mother’s hands flexed, like she was trying to get a grip on something. Probably her oldest daughter’s neck, Joanna thought bitterly. “Let me make myself clear, Joanna. You are not to see the bear-man again. You will not go near any of his friends. You will stay off that mountain.”

  Joanna opened her mouth to object. Even though he was reluctant to get involved with her, she didn’t want to give up Sherman. She was drawn to him in every way. His body drove her crazy, his smile lit her up. Even his mind turned her on.

  And she could no more stay away from the mountain than she could stop breathing. It was a vital part of her. Her father had shared that mountain with her, opened her eyes to its wonders, taught her its secrets. God, she missed her father. He was the only one who could stand up to her mother. Until he left.

  And Joanna knew that his abandonment was t
he reason her mother was so bitter now. She used to be better. She’d always been tough, sure. But once upon a time she’d been tolerable. Joanna missed the days when her mother could laugh, rare though it was. The house was always so dour these days, so silent. Like a funeral home. Except when her mother snapped at one of them. Then the old wood-panelled walls echoed with her wrath.

  Like now. “You will not disobey me,” her mother said, in that commanding tone that told her the subject was closed.

  Joanna couldn’t manage to say anything polite and submissive, like her mother undoubtedly wanted, so instead, she said nothing. Her mother nodded, her face a study in grim satisfaction. Then she left, shutting the door firmly behind her.

  Joanna rubbed her head, which hadn’t stopped pounding all night. She sat on the bed, staring at the wall for what felt like hours. She traced every knot and grain, looking without seeing.