Snowbound With Her Christmas Bear: Wylde Den #4 (Alaskan Den Men Book 16)

by Talina Perkins

  “Believe me, Sabine, you’ll know when you have a Wylde Fire.”

  She didn’t miss the hidden message in the otherwise innocent words. She didn’t need to read his shuttered gaze to know his words went deeper than just the drink he talked about. Though tempted to push his limits and toy a bit with his on-again-off-again antics, she decided against poking the bear and bit her tongue instead of taking the bait he dangled between them.

  The way her name rolled off his tongue made her smile, and she took delight in the small things. As if he made love to the double syllables before letting them fall from his lips.

  Gah, she needed a shower. Now and preferably ice cold. Her blood alcohol level must be hitting sky high. She didn’t know how she wasn’t seeing double of him.

  He leaned across her and flicked the knob and let the door slowly swing open to reveal a softly lit office with a single window on the far wall.

  “What about you? Though the female population probably doesn’t mind its men running around like Tarzan, you have to be cold.”

  He retrieved a key from behind the bar to his left and somewhere out of her line of sight. “I’ll use the one upstairs. See you in a few.” She watched as he turned to go, quickly swallowed by the crowd.

  “Good heavens, that man was walking temptation.”

  Behind closed doors, she stood with her head tilted back and rapped the back of her knuckles across her lips. It had been a quick kiss, but she could still feel the warmth of his lips against hers, the brush of his day-old beard across the smoothness of her chin. His steely attitude afterward would never erase how his lips claimed hers. The man stirred sensations in her she couldn’t ignore, and that was a problem. She had three days here. Long enough to tell her sister she didn’t have to worry about med school payments anymore and short enough not to grow attached to anyone. Keep it simple. That was her rule.

  Keep. It. Simple.

  Her two suitcases and a small single travel bag were where he promised. Parked up against the back wall in the only open space that didn’t harbor one of several brown leather sofas or overly plump chairs that looked like a dream to spend a Sunday in reading the hours away.

  The lock slinked into place with a flick of her wrist, and she immediately went to work on stripping off the wet socks and equally wet long johns. Plush beige carpet covered every inch of flooring, and her bare toes sank into the soft, cushiony threads. Pleasure sent her eyes rolling back and she was very tempted to curl up under her blanket and take a nap right then and there.

  To the left and behind a heavy oak desk, bookshelves lined the expanse of the walls from ceiling to floor with lamps in either corner. Several of the shelves held family pictures, hand carvings of various animals here and there and ribbons or trophies were tucked in like little memories.

  She made her way around the small office that was bigger than her bedroom and kitchen put together back home. In the center of the room a rich brown leather chair hugged a hand-carved desk weighted down by various stacks of papers and a single photo of a smiling woman. Sabine made her way over for a closer look and palmed the heavy silver frame. Soft golden eyes stared back at her, her smile as wide and accented by the trademark dimple she’d discovered all the Wylde siblings she’d met shared.

  She couldn’t help but wonder what made this one picture so special to earn a solitary spot on the desk.

  Metal crashed, and whoops and hollers broke out beyond the locked door. She returned the picture to its place in the center of the desk. From across the room, the faint chirp of her phone sounded. She fished out the cell phone and glanced at the screen, only to cringe as the familiar face of her friend. Dread slinked in until the office slipped behind a shimmering wall of tears. Suddenly her head ached and her mind went back to forty-eight hours previous to her flight here. She plopped down on the leather sofa and cradled her face in her hands, ignoring the call.

  A little red dot flashed on her screen that signaled a message in her inbox.

  Get your head on straight or don’t come back at all. Her supervisor’s last words to her before she clocked out of her six-week rotation plagued her mind.

  Before she could stop herself, she clicked the red dot and the kind voice of her best friend played over the speaker.

  “Hey, lady. Did you tell her yet? Maybe you should reconsider? You know, just don't give up everything overnight.”

  A pause.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Sabi. You tried your best. Even the overseeing doctor said you made the best call. Call me back when you get this.”

  Sabine ended the message and hit delete.

  Her best call, as her friend put it, hadn’t helped, and now a mother of three lost her life because she couldn’t save her in time. The drugs had already seeped into her system by the time they’d got to her. Now, three small children were doomed to live the life she’d experienced as their mother lay in a grave from an overdose.

  Tears welled and slid down Sabine’s cheeks.

  A shower, then dry clothes and maybe a plate of food. A little focus helped the tears dry up. But the sadness in her heart burrowed deeper like an unwanted sickness.

  She gathered her supplies and made her way to the only other door that led to the bathroom. She flicked the switch and instantly realized a pattern with Rone.

  Bright light flooded the small area. Stark white walls with rich coloring in the hand towels lined the top of the chest positioned opposite of the sink. Forest green and royal blue and a hint of gold in the fixtures.

  Everything had a space and place with nothing cluttering the counters except an odd hand-carved bear.

  The blanket pooled around her feet and within a minute, she swayed under the hot streams of water and relished the steam filling the small room as it eased the ache of the cold away.

  Fact: One kiss from Rone was like a thousand shots of Moon Lust, and she wanted more of both.

  CHAPTER THREE

  After feeling slowly returned to her body, Sabine made quick work of washing and left the bathroom in the same clean order she found it in before joining the crowd.

  Her sister was in the back corner next to a line of booths squished between her two mates, each with a hand resting on the bump that would be her niece or nephew. Several others stood by them, and the one she knew as Adam wore a bright red Santa hat and had his arm around a pretty brunette with a matching hat and a big smile as she looked at her mate.

  Wondering if she could catch a glimpse of her moody golden-eyed werebear, she pushed through the throng of people and spoke to several patrons wishing her congratulations and thanking her for de-thronging the one and only Everett Wylde.

  Even her newest festive sweater paired with jeans and mid-calf black boots got a few thumbs up. This one featured Santa’s elves twerking on a candy cane pole.

  Several men standing in the middle of the ever-shifting crowd held up their mugs and called out for Rone. She followed their line of sight and zeroed in on the man with damp hair who stood solo behind the bar slinging mug after mug of ale to anyone within reach. Several bottles filled the shelves behind him, rimmed with more garland and lights, as staff collected the drinks and passed them out to the happy patrons. Busboys cleared empty mugs as fast as people could put them down.

  “Looks like you could use some help.” Sabine eased behind the counter and took quick note of where everything from the mugs, highball glasses, and ice were located and dove right in without a second thought.

  Clad in a long-sleeved gray tee with a red plaid button-down shirt that hung free around his hips matched with black snug cargo pants, Rone sent three more mugs down the polished wood before he reached under the counter and tossed her an apron.

  “Drinks are on the house tonight in honor of the winners. Lots of people like free.”

  “Good policy.” She slipped the ties of the black leather apron around her waist and got to work. She fell into the old groove of whipping up everything from frilly concoctions to screwdrivers and the
favorite with the old and new generations alike...beer.

  “Heelloo, my mistletoe angel,” crooned an aged voice that belonged to an older gentleman with solid silver hair and warm eyes. “How about a refill but of good stuff, beautiful?”

  Okay. So let the fun begin. As an on again off again bartender when money was scarce—which was more often than not with her mounting bills—Sabine was used to getting hit on, talked to, and even bitched out on occasion when she showed guys where to shove their dicks after they got too pushy.

  She glanced up. Deep wrinkles creased his cheeks, the skin around his chin soft and slightly slack, but his eyes didn’t look a day over thirty. Beneath gray scruff rosy cheeks poked out, due no doubt to the brisk wind kicking up beyond the front windowpanes, and the brightest blue eyes she’d ever seen.

  She canted her head to one side. “Sure, thing, amigo. What would that be?”

  “Sweetheart, whatever it was Rone gave ya to getcha behind that bar with him, it had to be somethin’ special for a special lady.”

  “I don’t think I really gave him a choice. Did I do something wrong?”

  “Not if you’re still here, you didn’t. You’re special.”

  Sabine reached up to fix her sliding ponytail, the ends still slightly damp, before she did something that would give away her growing curiosity.

  “Nothing special at all, old-timer.” She spied his glass and noticed the same silvery liquid she had downed earlier. She looked to Rone, who stood at the other end of the bar talking to a group of ladies. All of them doe-eyed and flirty and fawning over the stud muffin pouring them dainty little drinks with umbrellas. She bet one of them thought she’d get lucky tonight. Who knew. Maybe all three of them would.

  “There hasn’t been another soul behind that counter for four years.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. Maybe he’s possessive over his bar. Many are. Besides, there’s nothing special about slinging beer or me.”

  “Well, I think you proved to the whole town I’m right. You just wait and see.”

  “So what will it be?” She shook her head, rubbing at an imaginary spot with her towel along the clean bar between them.

  “Mind your own business, Cougar, and stop bothering the young lady. What would your wife say?” She jumped, startled as Rone joined them and with much disappointment from the crowd at the end of the bar. Sassy brown eyes connected with hers from several stools down, and she knew a challenge when she saw it.

  Sorry, ladies. She had no intentions of messing someone’s game up.

  The patron remained where he was, propped up against the brass pole lining the customer’s side of the bar, a big toothy grin in place. “That I need glasses and a mirror, but that never stopped me before,” he cackled.

  As they talked, Sabine pulled down a bottle from the back shelf.

  “Here. Your wife ought to like the works of this by the end of the night.” She tipped the bottle and poured a double shot of Moon Lust and watched the old-timer’s eyes sparkle. He tossed her a wink and slipped a twenty into her hand before standing.

  “No, that’s okay. It’s on the house tonight.”

  “It’s not for the drink, miss, but thanks for the refill anyway.”

  “Everybody. Your attention please.” Sabine brought her gaze around to the back of the bar. Cherry rose above the crowd and caught everyone’s attention with a light tap of a fork against her glass.

  Oh no. Groaning, she palmed her face.

  “Everybody. I have an announcement to make.”

  Please don’t let this be happening.

  “I think the evidence is clear, Cherry dear,” called out Adam, earning an elbow from his mate.

  “My sister is here with us tonight. I think you all know who she is by now.” Cherry pointed her way where she stood beside Rone. All one hundred sets of eyes zeroed in on her. Some human, most otherworldly.

  Ice cold panic forced the last of heat from her and her heart skipped every other beat. Oh God, please don’t let this be going where she thought it would go.

  “I’ve been waiting almost four years to shout this from any soapbox I could find. For a while I thought I would have to do it alone, but now we have all of you to join in on the celebration. My baby sister, Sabine Kennedy, will be graduating medical school in another five months, and I predict with summa cum laude honors.”

  Oh, this just keeps getting better.

  Sabine tried to draw some air into her lungs but nothing seemed to work. If her supervisor had anything to say about it, Sabine would never see the inside of a hospital again.

  “Help me give her a rousing welcome and some Alaskan woots.”

  Rone joined the crowd in clapping and raising their fists in a raucous cheer. Her name raised from everyone’s lips and drowned out Elvis on the jukebox.

  Please let the floor open up and swallow me whole. Silver dots filled her vision and the crowd became blurry.

  A warm arm wrapped around her, and she wanted to push it off and run from the room but couldn’t manage even that. All she could do was stand there like an idiot with tears in her eyes. Close to her ear, Rone whispered, “You okay? Whoa there. Take it easy. Breathe. Get some air in your lungs before you pass out.”

  “I…uhu…I, yeah.” She clasped a hand to her forehead and slammed her eyes shut as many of the patrons clapped her on the back in congratulations. Many thought she probably was embarrassed and they were right, but not for the reason they thought.

  Fingers shaking and her knees weaker than noodles, she forced a smile to her lips but it felt so fake when everyone looked at her with such genuine happiness for her.

  “Thanks, guys,” she managed in a shaky voice.

  Still on her makeshift soapbox, Cherry caught her eye and Sabine looked up at her, unable to feel angry or mad at her sister but furious at herself. “We’re proud of you, little sis. I’m proud of you.”

  And there went the last piece of resolve she had. Steamy puddles of tears slipped past her defenses and she felt the drops hit her sleeves. Rone silently passed her a hanky. First she stripped in front of the whole town and now this. Could this day really get any worse? She patted at her tears as she gathered herself. Green lettering on his hanky caught her eye, and she smoothed over the cotton edges as she read the Wylde name embroidered in a pretty script. Alaskan men were such a different breed.

  The ones she knew were egotistical assholes anxious to play God. She’d almost fallen into that and someone died for her thinking she could save them. That she could somehow play God for them. How stupid. The weight of how disappointed Cherry would be settled on her chest. Sabine raised her chin and flashed her sister a grateful smile. “Enough of the sappy stuff, who wants drinks?” Clutching the neck of a whiskey bottle in her right and Moon Lust in her left, she poured shots as fast as glasses scooted down the polished wood.

  Nothing would get the attention off her quicker than tossing booze around.

  Rone turned with his back to the crowd and dipped lower for only her to hear. “I don’t know what is going on, but I know something is bothering you. If you need to talk.” He trailed off with a tilt of his head.

  With half her attention on the patrons, she almost missed the sincere look in his eye. As if he wanted her to trust him. Lured deeper, she spent a second too long looking into the depths of his eyes. That second almost cost her. She opened her mouth to tell him but quickly shut it. People earned trust. Trust didn’t come freely or fast. She smiled up at him. “Thanks,” she offered and shrugged him off, “but I’m fine. Just caught me off guard is all.”

  She put the twenty from the generous old man in the tip jar at the corner of the bar where Rone now busied himself again.

  Anxious to get the topic off herself for good, she returned to what the old man at the counter had said. “Hey, what did the old man mean by it’s been four years since anyone else stood behind this bar anyway?”

  Rone tipped his chin to acknowledge her question. But his frown was a
red flashing light when he didn’t answer. True Sabine style, she bulldozed past the yield sign that warned of an avalanche and the ground was made of glass.

  She wasn’t too surprised. They’d worked most of the night passing booze and sliced lemons but not much talk. Granted, neither had too much of that to spare with drink orders coming in like fast food orders.

  Pain, clear as the night sky beyond the front windows, rolled over his expression. His hands slowed as he mixed a whiskey sour, the ribbons of amber liquid a mirror to the razor sharp shards of color in his irises.

  Her heart filled with the sorrow she recognized in his gaze instantly. Damn. What was wrong with her? She sighed wearily and planted her hands on the bar. “Look. Sorry. I get it. It’s none of my business,” she retracted fast in a low voice so no one else could hear.

  He flicked her apology away, shaking his head. “Pay no attention to Thearon Cougar. He’s just nosy with nothing better to do but whittle away his day out at his farm or get drunk on shifter hooch.”

  She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could speak, she was interrupted by the scraping of the stool on hardwood.

  “Good race today,” a voice boomed as the dark-haired man who owned it approached through the throng of people hugging the bar. He smelled of pine, which she now associated with werebears, strong cigars, and good whiskey. Broad shoulders encased in soft denim shouldered between two guys, and Sabine smiled when she caught a glimpse of old worn jeans outlining a well-kept body of an older man.

  Sabine raised her gaze from the frothy foam of the beer at the end of her tap and slipped a practiced, patient smile in place.

  He burst into a raucous laughter and greeted several handshakes with a smile that brought out the delicate lines around his eyes. The Elder, she reasoned. The father of the Wylde clan. At least she thought they were a clan, or was it den?

  He clasped hands with Rone. Light poured over him and caught in the sexy brush of silver through his sideburns and coarse beard as he claimed the now empty stool with an easy grace.