ROMANCE: PARANORMAL ROMANCE: Mated, Bearfoot and Pregnant (Bear Shifter BBW Pregnancy Romance) (Werebear Hero Fantasy Romance)

by Leah Kent

  Chapter One

  Rose did not like the sound of the storm when she first heard about it on the radio. Bad weather and tornadoes were common in Kansas and Rose had been through her share of them. One learned to recognize patterns about a storm, however. Rose did not know if it was how the weatherman talked about the storm or how it had moved coming into Kansas. She felt that something was wrong, and this storm had a lot more to bring than some rain and a moderate twister.

  The sheep regarded her cautiously as she opened the barn cellar and began clearing out any spider webs. She did not want anything that might spook the sheep. If she were right about the storm, it would be bad enough. As the weather announcement came on again, she began moving the sheep down in pairs to the cellar’s tight corral. The storm turned, and she did not have much time to get the sheep and herself into shelter.

  Rose led the last one into the cellar corral, dropped the heavy door, and bolted it. They would be nervous, but the corral would keep them mostly in place. She hoped none of them would begin shedding after the storm. The extra money that she made selling wool to hipsters that passed through town was nice. She fed her sheep well, kept them groomed, and gave them a relaxing place to graze. That ensured nice quality wool that they paid well for.

  The wind picked up and rain began to fall. In the distance, Rose saw the large funnel cloud. This would be a bad one if it dropped down. Over the wind, she heard the sound of an engine and saw a black limousine, its driver heading straight toward the massive funnel cloud. Rose tried to wave them down, but they did not notice her.

  “Stupid rich people,” Rose muttered under her breath. She dashed into the house and down to her basement. She had a short-wave radio in it. The driver should have a CB radio. She thought most commercial vehicles, even limousines, did.

  Rose turned on the radio and shifted through the signal dial, looking for a clear one. “Attention driver of the black limousine. You are driving into the path of a tornado. Over.”

  She repeated it until a woman’s voice responded. “Over. I don’t see shelter.”

  “Come back the way you came. You’ll see a white farm house with a red barn. I have shelter. Over.”

  “Turning now. Over and out.”

  Rose put down the radio handset and ran up the basement stairs. The rain abated and the wind picked up. She looked in the direction of the funnel cloud and could only see the wall of twisting wind that was the tornado. It would be upon them in minutes.

  The limousine turned into Rose’s drive and skidded to a halt in front of the house, inches from her front porch. A steady rumble moved through Rose’s bones as the tell-tale sound of the tornado, like a thousand freight trains barreling down on her, filled Rose’’s ears.

  “We have to get inside,” Rose yelled over the storm as the driver, a woman with short black hair, got out of the car.

  The passenger side door opened and a man stepped out. He looked toward the approaching twister. His mouth dropped open and his face turned white. Rose knew the look well. She had seen it on travelers when they saw their first Kansas storm. She started down the steps as the driver moved around the car to get to him.

  The sound of splintering wood split through the rumble of the oncoming storm. Rose looked to see a pole; she thought it might be from a power line. She ducked instinctively, but it passed harmlessly overhead, red splinters of her barn following it. The wind speed picked up behind it, and pushed Rose up against the black vehicle.

  “Oh God! Duck Sir!” The driver called out.

  Rose looked to see the hay pulley from her barn flying toward them. The man attempted to dodge out of the way, but it struck him solidly in the arm. He collapsed as the wind suddenly dropped. The thundering noise of the twister did not. Rose’s blood turned cold and goose bumps broke out across her body.

  “We have to get down now,” Rose called out. She walked around to help the man to his feet as the driver lifted him under one arm. He wore a black sports jacket, but Rose was certain the arm was crushed inside. Quickly they moved up the steps and Rose guided them through the house as the wind picked up again, pounding into the house and shattering windows. The driver and her ward stumbled down the stairs and he cried out as they fell together at the bottom. Rose followed, stopping midway to pull the storm door closed.

  Above them, the world sounded like hell. The sound of the tornado and the splintering and breaking of her house was maddening. Rose prayed her sheep would be all right and looked to the man and his driver. She was helping him to lay back on the couch, and Rose could see she was fighting shock and fear. His arm was badly twisted and she knew it needed attention now.

  Rose walked to the cabinet where she kept first aid items. She pulled out her large first aid kit and brought it to the couch. As the driver looked on, she opened it and pulled out the shears.

  “Are you a doctor?” the driver asked.

  “No. I have first aid training, though. We all get it out here in case someone gets injured taking cover,” Rose said. “Do you?””

  “CPR.” The driver’s face was strained with worry and guilt over her lack of skill. Rose did not blame her. She recognized the Chicago accent right away and knew this woman was not accustomed to being out in storms like this.

  Rose looked from the driver to the man. “I need to cut open your jacket and shirt to look at your arm. I need you to be still Mr. –” Rose cut off to let him answer.

  “It’s Armani,” he said.

  “Mr. Armani, it’s an honor to meet you sir.” Rose brought the sheers to the cuff of his jacket. He tried to move his arm away and cried out in pain.

  “The jacket is Armani,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’m Marcus Wright.”

  Rose nodded and took hold of the cuff with one hand. “Marcus Wright got it. Now hold still.”

  He tried to argue, but the pain he was in took that out of him. Rose used the sheers to cut up the arm of his jacket, blessing herself for remembering to sharpen them a few days ago. She split the sleeve open and turned her attention to the shirt. It was a very soft cotton and she felt bad for only a moment as she cut up the sleeve.

  His arm was in terrible shape. Between the impact, his fall at the bottom of the basement stairs, and trying to move it, the elbow was overextended. Rose was relieved that the pulley had not crushed it, but she thought the arm was broken in at least two places. She brought out a splint and began wrapping the forearm. She wanted the breaks secured before she tried to deal with the elbow. She moved up to the upper arm and brought a split there as well, wrapping quickly as he winced and did his best to fight the pain he was in.

  “Do you have anything for pain?” the driver asked.

  “Advil, but that’s it,” Rose replied. She turned her attention back to Marcus. “This next part is going to hurt badly. Your elbow is bent back, and I need to fix that.”

  “No,” Marcus said. He winced again at the pain and shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

  Rose sighed. “If I don’t, when your arm starts swelling up, it’s going to cause more problems.”

  Marcus rolled his eyes back and groaned. Rose decided to take that as acquiescence. She was not going to give him a chance to try to fight her more on it. She took hold of the splint and brought the forearm toward her, holding the upper arm splint so that she could bend the joint back into its proper position.

  The scream that Marcus let out was near deafening. The sound of the elbow popping into place was almost as bad. Rose pursed her lips and checked the joint. She was no expert, but she did not think the bone was broken there. It felt as though everything were in place. On the couch, Marcus writhed and screamed at her touch. Satisfied that she had done all she could, Rose stopped and looked to the driver, who had three Advil and an opened bottle of water in her hands.

  “Right, pain meds.” Rose nodded to the driver.

  The driver moved around to the other side of Marcus once more and brought the bottle to his lips. He sipped carefully as she pl
aced the first pill in his lips. One by one, he swallowed them and did his best to sit up.

  “It sounds like the storm passed,” the driver looked at Rose.

  “It passed us, but it’s got a lot more ground to cover. I’ll go ahead and radio to EMS, though, and let them know we have someone injured.”” Rose gave Marcus a grin, hoping to use a little humor to distract him from his pain. “I don’t suppose you managed to bribe anyone on your way through town.”

  Marcus narrowed his eyes and hissed at his pain. “No, sorry. Getting my arm broken and treated by a sadistic farmer wasn’t on my itinerary.”

  Rose gave him a smile and patted his knee gently. “Aw, I’m not a sadist. And you’ll live. Let me see how fast someone can be up.””

  “We can just go up and use the limousine,” the driver said.

  Rose shook her head and laughed. “No, sweetie, I’m afraid not. My hay pulley destroyed the back passenger window, and from the shattering glass and the noise we were hearing, I’d say my house is probably sitting on top of us. We’ll be safe down here, but we should wait for someone that can dig us out. With someone injured, we’ll get on the priority list.”

  The driver nodded. Rose suspected when she said the name that would help as well. Marcus Wright was known here, by reputation anyway. He was a billionaire, one who built his fortune on futures and invested it into Middle America agriculture. He worked with private farmers, helping them to upgrade equipment and purchase seed that would make them competitive with the bigger agro-businesses.

  Rose took her handset again and shifted the dial to the EMS frequency that the farmers used. Dozens of voices blared at once and the stern voice of a woman quelled them.

  “I can only take down one thing at a time.” Rose gave a twisted smile at the sound of Abigail’s voice. She was one of the county dispatchers and was usually in charge of this frequency.

  Rose waited through the different voices, thankful to hear that the storm had netted no other injuries so far. Bill Withers had watched the farm for her while she was in the hospital with appendicitis. Max Corner’s wife brought a roast and homemade bread over when Rose’s grandmother passed away. She had a story for each person on the frequency; it was good to hear their voices.

  “I have injured here,” Rose said. She heard gasps and decided to continue quickly. Many of these folks considered her an extension of their own families. “One Marcus Wright passed by in his limousine and took cover. I’m afraid my hay pulley struck him and broke his arm.”

  “How badly?” Abigail asked.

  “It’s broken in at least two places. The elbow was knocked out of joint, but I fixed that.” Rose paused to look at the arm. ““I may have to reset him. He’s starting to swell. He’ll need attention soon if he doesn’t want to lose it.””

  “Do you have ice down there?” Abigail asked.

  “Negative. I didn’t have a chance to bring my ice bags down from my freeze upstairs. I have a couple of cooling packs, but I don’t know what they’’ll do. He’s taken three Advil so far, though.”

  “I have him on the list for injured. We’ll get someone out to you guys as soon as possible. Don’t try to go up. The damage reports are starting to come in. This was a bad one. Fire will clear debris to get you out. Try the cooling packs and elevate the arm.”

  “Will do. Over and out.”

  Rose set down the handset and moved back over to the couch. She pulled out the cooling packs from the kit and folded them to activate them. Marcus had his head back, and she hoped that he was not asleep.

  “I need to move your arm up to elevate it,” Rose said.

  Marcus moved his head to look at her. His eyes were dilated, and she was afraid he might be going into shock from the pain. He nodded his head. Rose took the arm carefully and raised it to the back of the couch. He cried out in pain, gritting his teeth. Rose pulled a rag from the first aid kit and laid it on his arm, placing the cooling packs over it.

  “So, let’s keep you talking, Mr. Wright.” Rose sat down on the couch and looked to the driver. “EMS will be here as soon as they can be.”

  The driver nodded. The two of them did the best they could to keep Marcus talking and alert. He was in a great deal of pain, and Rose felt badly for him. The Advil and the cooling packs would help with swelling some, but not with the pain. They would not be enough for it. Rose monitored the arm to make sure the wraps for the splint did not need to be reset as they talked.

  The driver was Nancy. She had been working for Marcus for about four years now. Marcus admitted that most of his personal staff was women. That was his preference. Rose got him to talk about what business had brought him out to Kansas and asked questions when the pain began to distract him from talking.

  After a while, his speech began to slur. She thought it was both exhaustion and his body going into shock. When Rose began to grow worried, she heard knocking on the storm door of the cellar. Rose opened it and was relieved to see a fire fighter on the other side.

  As the EMTs took Marcus up by stretcher and Nancy followed, Rose walked up the stairs of her basement to survey the damage. Her barn was only a splintered husk now. She saw that the fire fighters had also cleared the debris from around the barn cellar door and was relieved. Her fence was torn up, but she would be able to fix it quickly. She had chain link she could pull across the broken areas in the cellar. It would work until she could fix it.

  Rose realized then that she was observing this from her kitchen. She looked around to see that her house, the house passed down to her by her grandmother, was destroyed. The doorframe where Rose’s mother had tracked her toddler growth was gone. So was the porch where her grandfather would smoke his pipe out back.

  She would have a lot of rebuilding to do, and she wondered where she would begin.

  Chapter Two

  Three months had passed since the storm. Rose stood on the porch of her house and could not believe how quickly her life was coming back together. The fence repair was the first thing she had tasked herself with, locating pieces of wood and using scrap left from the house and barn when she needed to. Now her barn was fully rebuilt, the mismatched wood of her fence was now uniform, and her house was rebuilt. She had even managed to find and salvage her toddler growth chart from the kitchen.

  To look at everything, it was almost as though the tornado had never struck. Only her small field of crops left any sign. The storm had demolished them. She had gathered up the torn and uprooted plants so that they would not spoil the soil. It was too late in the season to plant anew, so she would wait for the next season. It would mean buying her own vegetables, but she was fine with that. She still had her sheep, though they had a terrible time shedding from the stress of the storm.

  The speed with which Rose recovered was thanks to Marcus Wright. He had sent money and contractors to her farm to take care of everything. She even had money left over to cover the food she would not be able to harvest for herself. He had also donated money to the county to aid in reconstruction efforts.

  She appreciated the gesture, both for herself and for the other farmers around her, many of whom relied on the land for income and survival. For Rose, the storm was devastating emotionally, but materially it was mostly an inconvenience. Insurance would have paid for her repairs, though her premiums would have increased. When she inherited her grandmother’s land, Rose decided to sell off a section of it to another farmer, who was hoping to expand his production fields. She still had money saved from the sale, since her grandmother had no mortgages or liens on the property.

  Still, she accepted the money. Her grandmother, who had been the one to raise her since her mother was only fifteen when Rose was born, had taught her never to turn away generosity. It was especially important when the generosity was in gratitude for something done. She had saved Marcus and Nancy’s lives. That day, Rose had taken a walk up the road, where they would have been driving, and saw only a swath of destruction.

  What Rose was unable to accept
was the invitation that had come with the money. Marcus wanted her to come up to Chicago to visit him, so that he could thank her properly for what she had done. Rose sent back a thank-you note with her polite decline of the invitation. With everyone having to rebuild from the storm, it was simply not possible for her to take off for a trip to Chicago. She would have no one to watch her animals, who were still stressed from the storm at the time he sent the first invitation.

  Marcus tried two more times, the most recent she had declined last week, to get her to come to visit. Rose wondered at his insistence on her visiting Chicago. Yes, she had done something good for him. That did not mean that he owed her anything special. Rose did what anyone here would have done had they seen the vehicle heading toward the storm. She knew that farmers throughout the Kansas had saved more than a few amateur storm chasers over the years. It was something that one did in the middle of Tornado Alley. People looked out for each other because here nature was unforgiving of man’s encroachment on her territory.

  A limousine stopped at the entrance to her drive and waited for another vehicle to pass. It turned in, making its way down. Rose noticed that the car that passed had stopped as well. The car belonged to Bill Withers, and as it started to drive off again, Rose supposed that people would be making mention of this to her the next time she was in town.

  The limousine stopped in front of her house and the driver stepped out. Rose waved to Nancy, who returned the wave as she walked around to open the back passenger door. Rose steadied herself to see Marcus, and was surprised to see a woman step out instead. She was tall, with long platinum hair that she kept pulled up into a high ponytail. She wore a tight fitting, black tank top, slim blue jeans, and a pair of black shoes. She stopped at the base of the steps and looked up at Rose.

  “You’re Ms. Rose Carter?” she asked. Nancy walked around the limousine to lean back against the driver’s side door. She pulled a small case from her jacket and produced a cigarette.