Bear Heat: BBW Fireman Bear Shifter Romance (Firefighter Bears Book 1)

by Becca Fanning

  Bear Heat

  Firefighter Bears I

  Becca Fanning

  Copyright © 2020 by Becca Fanning

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. Bear Heat

  Also by Becca Fanning

  Bear Heat

  “A fire isn’t like any other enemy. It doesn’t think. It doesn’t act predictably. Hell, you can’t reason with it. It does what it wants, when it wants. You can’t fight it, wrestle it to the ground, and stop it from hurting anyone else. But that doesn’t mean it’s unbeatable.

  “Because you’re smarter than a fire. It can’t think. You can. It doesn’t act predictably. But you do. You follow your training, you trust your brothers, and with some time on the job, you’ll realize that while it does whatever it wants, you’ll already know just how to stop it. You’ll see those little pinpoints, those little sparks, and you’ll just know that eventually, the fire is going to grow and that you can stop it.

  “You can’t reason with it. But the truth is, you can’t reason with most of what you fight in this damn world. Wild animals, fires, natural disasters – even some people – can’t be reasoned with, so why does it matter? You don’t need to talk it down. You don’t need to let it know it’s doing wrong. You’re here for one thing and that’s to stop it before it can do any harm.

  “You’re Shifters, and most importantly, you’re firefighters. I know you won’t let me or the Chief down, and I sure as hell know you won’t let any of your brothers down. Welcome to the Forest. Now, let’s get you your gear.”

  Samuel Carver stepped up, thinking that it was a nice speech – but that’s all it was: a speech. Around him, the other rookies all got to their feet as well, smiling and patting each other on the backs.

  They think they’re in. They think it’s a cakewalk.

  Sam knew different, though. The exams to get into the department were just the first tests. There was the physical one – run a mile, lift 100 pounds, do this, do that – nothing that he would consider tough. The written exam had been easy, as had the mental exam.

  It couldn’t have been that easy, he reminded himself. After all, how many people hadn’t even made it this far? Ten others? Fifty? A hundred?

  But that was just the beginning. He wasn’t trying to be cynical – he just wanted to be realistic.

  The Forest…

  There were eleven other rookies around him. He didn’t recognize any of them – but that was okay. There were some that were taller than him, others that were bigger than he was, he was sure there were some that were even smarter than him, as well. But he knew, in the bottom of his heart, that none of them had the drive that he did.

  He wouldn’t fail here. He just couldn’t.

  The Forest, they only took the best of the best. He’d been watching, with some kind of reverent awe, year by year as he grew up. They were picky about who they accepted – and with good reason. After all, the Forest was the best team of firefighters that had ever graced the country – Shifter or not. They only had classes once a year, and they only accepted twelve recruits to each class.

  From there, the rules were out the window. He knew from following the Forest that some years, they only accepted one new recruit. Some years, more than one, but never more than four. He didn’t think that was a hard and fast limit – there just hadn’t been enough good recruits year to year to add four more members to the squad.

  And in the past four years, there had been zero new members added to the Forest.

  Zero. The last member accepted was the man that had given the introductory speech, Sergeant Alexander McCready.

  That was four years ago. In four years, there hasn’t been a single recruit that’s been up to their standards. And with how their unit runs as a well-oiled machine, it doesn’t look like they need any new blood, anyway. It’s not like they’re chomping at the bit to have others join them…

  The Forest had always been somewhat of an elite club. After all, they only wanted the best of the best. Lives depended on it. Sam didn’t blame them.

  But I’ll be joining them soon enough.

  The other rookies were still laughing, joking, talking, and slapping each other on the backs as they made their way down the hallway from the meeting room out to the bay. There were gigantic lockers there running along one wall. While the other men laughed and followed McCready to where he was taking them, Sam looked at the lockers and watched curiously.

  Peterson, Haley, Dixon, Buckner, Ortega, Graham… And then another man moved in front of Sam’s view and he couldn’t read any more of the names on the lockers. He craned his neck around but the moment was gone.

  Standing there, leaning against one of the lockers and polishing a helmet was one of the members of the Forest. Sam didn’t know the man’s name – he didn’t know any of them except for McCready’s and the Chief’s – but he was sure he would get to know them soon.

  As he watched the man’s impassible face turned to a scowl and he yelled, “What’s so goddamned funny? Get in line!”

  A couple of the men gave little jumps of surprise, but all of them immediately shut up and walked in a more straight pattern. Sam slid in between two men, watching the fireman as they walked past. He glared at them, one by one, and his eyes met Sam’s – and they seemed to linger for just a moment longer on his than anyone else. Sam didn’t know what that meant, but he hoped it wouldn’t bode ill for him.

  They stopped at the end of the row of lockers. Sam looked over and noticed that none of these lockers had any names on them: they were obviously meant to be theirs.

  “When I call your name, step up,” McCready said. He grabbed a uniform off of a table and said, “Bush,” and Sam watched as a huge Shifter stepped forward, grinning ear to ear. McCready didn’t grin back as the man took his uniform. “Carver.”

  Sam took a deep breath and stepped past the other recruits. He took his uniform without even so much as an upward turned lip and then stepped back into his place in the line and waited patiently as the last ten recruits grabbed their uniforms.

  As they had all grabbed their uniforms, a few other men showed up. One was the largest Shifter Sam had ever seen – and that was saying something. He towered over the others, arms crossed, standing behind the table and watching keenly. His golden eyes took in each and every Shifter.

  “That’s all we’re going to be doing today,” McCready said. About half of the recruits grumbled and a few muttered curses under their breaths. The huge Shifter standing behind the table watched intently, taking all of this in without giving anything away. When no one moved, McCready said, “Well, get out of here. Be back here at 7 A.M. sharp.”

  The recruits all wandered back outside. A few seemed to have already made friends and they chatted on their way out of the doors. Sam, on the other hand, kept to himself. A few hopped in cars and disappeared onto the busy road, others walked along the sidewalk and headed up towards the train, but Sam turned left and went the opposite way, absolutely alone.

  It was cold out. His breath frosted in the late January air, though in truth, the cold didn’t bother Shifters much. Piles of gray snow were piled up in gutters and his boots crunched underneath snow that had been packed down so much it was nearly ice. He walked surefootedly home, a slight icy drizzle pelting h
is head. He pulled up the hood on his coat, his uniform clutched carefully underneath one arm.

  The walk was half an hour through the bad part of town. The sleet never let up as Sam passed grimy buildings with boarded up front doors, broken windows, and bricks laying on the icy sidewalk. If it hadn’t been the middle of winter, he knew that weeds would be growing up through the broken sidewalk, knee high.

  Sam had left it all for New York City. Truth be told, though, he hadn’t left much. His father, his hero, had been a firefighter nearly 25 years ago. But he’d died in a fire before Sam had been old enough to know him. His mother had been devastated by his father’s death and she’d drank herself into an early grave.

  He’d bounced around foster homes through his entire youth. He couldn’t understand it; he’d considered himself a good kid. He’d done well in school, he respected his teachers and elders, and yet…

  Nothing ever seemed to go right for me.

  So when he had been 18, he’d joined the local fire department. Or, at least, he’d tried to. But they hadn’t liked his big build, his strange golden eyes, or his quiet personality. He hadn’t fit in and he’d been on the squad for less than a week before they’d cut him.

  He’d applied at the volunteer fire department, hoping to get some sort of experience, but it was mostly a bunch of older guys drinking beers while they laughed and sprayed out the fire. It hadn’t been what he had been after.

  Sam had wanted to be real. He wanted to be respected. He wanted to be taken seriously for what he knew he was made for.

  So he’d gotten a full time job as stocker at a grocery store, and when he wasn’t working, he was training. He was at the gym working harder than he’d ever worked in his life because he knew that he was cut out to save lives just like his father had. So he’d trained and trained and trained, and for years he’d waited as patiently as he could.

  And when he felt he was ready, he’d packed up his one bag of possessions, left his cheap and rundown apartment in the Midwest, and…

  He rented out a cheap and rundown apartment in New York City, right smack dab in the middle of the bad part of town, and he’d applied for the Forest.

  Sam had waited even longer, hitting the gym every spare chance he got, only working enough to pay for rent, bills, and food.

  They’d sent him an invitation to interview and he’d jumped at it.

  He’d known that he could do it. He’d worked for years just to be good enough to apply for the Forest. But still, never in a million years had he expected that he would be chosen as a recruit.

  He knew the odds weren’t in his favor. Why would they choose a new guy this year, when they hadn’t in all of the years before?

  Because I’m different. I’m going to show them that I’m determined to earn a place on their squad.

  But what makes me so different from the other eleven guys? They’re all thinking the same thing.

  Sam pushed those thoughts away. He cleared his head and reached his rundown apartment. He opened the front door – it was barely warmer in here than outside, and trudged up the stairwells, past the bags of trash, broken bottles, and stuff he didn’t want to know what it was – and reached his door. He unlocked it with the old key, entered, and shut the door behind him. Then he pulled the extra chain locks he’d bought – you couldn’t be too safe around here – and latched everything tightly.

  He reverently sat his uniform on the kitchen table, though to be fair, it wasn’t much of a kitchen. The cabinet doors were long gone, with the exception of one that still hung strong with one latch. He looked at his pitiful bed on the floor, little more than a rolled up lump of fluff and blankets, and he smiled.

  He was here, and he was doing it.

  “You can’t. You can’t let me go. The contract said that…”

  “Said that you would be guaranteed a job until the end of the school year?” the woman behind the big desk asked. Her eyes were magnified by her huge rimmed glasses, making her look somewhat like a frog as she gave her best I’m-sorry-but-I’m-not-really-sorry sad smile. “It didn’t say that. You should have read the fine print.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Brooke Sharp said – though she truthfully didn’t know what else to say.

  “You were a temp. Like I explained when you first took this position…”

  “But when I first took this position you told me that I would be promoted to full-time at the end of the school year.”

  “I said you would most likely be promoted at the end of the school year. Unfortunately, with budget cuts and the low attendance this year, we decided it best to lay off a few of our temporary teachers.”

  “But I need this job…”

  “I’m sure you’ll find another job soon, Miss Sharp.”

  “It’s the middle of winter! No one is going to be hiring until August, and with the cost of living around here, and…”

  “You’ll find another job! You were great.”

  “So why are you firing me?” Brooke exclaimed. She had gotten to her feet without realizing it and was clutching her purse. She opened her mouth to say something else but couldn’t make more than a frustrated noise, so she turned and walked out of the principal’s office.

  Just like that… I’m jobless.

  Brooke walked down the hallway and made her way to what had previously been her room. It was true. She had been taken on as a temp teacher after the unexpected passing of one of the older teachers. It had been sudden but it had worked out. She’d just graduated college and moved back home. The timing couldn’t have been better.

  And now, the timing couldn’t have been worse. She’d just payed off a massive amount of student loan debt – finally completely paying it off, in fact – and she was short on money and now she would be short on rent and her life was going to collapse around her…

  She pushed those thoughts away and went to the desk. There would be no telling the students goodbye. It was Friday evening, after all. There would be no last lessons. It had been tough – but she had loved it. She knew it was what she was meant to do.

  Brooke was meant to teach others – and now that was gone. She grabbed a few photographs of her and her family, opened up the desk drawers and decided to leave the rest of the stuff, and then she walked out of her classroom. With one final look backwards, she flipped the light, never to return.

  The janitor gave her a big smile and waved as he walked past, pushing a garbage cart. “Goodnight, Carl,” she told him, unable to tell Carl that this would be the last time they’d ever see each other.

  She walked down the dark hallways and out the front door. Icy sleet was falling, so she slipped the pictures into her coat pocket and made her way down the icy steps. She slipped once – barely managing to catch herself – and slowed down until she reached her car. It wasn’t much, but it was hers. She tried to slide the key into the lock but it had been iced over. She lifted the handle, or at least tried to – because it had been iced over, too.

  She tried for a few minutes in the darkening gloom. No matter what door or how hard she tried, she couldn’t get the doors open to her car.

  “I give up!” she exclaimed to no one in particular. She had assumed her day couldn’t get any worse – but she had been wrong. So wrong.

  Frustrated and getting increasingly wet and icy, Brooke turned from her car, dropped her keys in her pocket, and decided to head home. It wasn’t a terribly far walk. In fact, at the start of the school year, she’d often walked to and from school when the weather had been agreeable. Now, though…

  She put her head down and headed to her little apartment. The sidewalks were deserted. Night was coming soon and with it more cold, she didn’t blame everyone for not wanting to be out in it. A few cars passed her. She half expected a spray of icy water to shoot out from underneath their tires at her but somehow, that didn’t happen. She trudged home, feet wet, ears cold, teeth chattering, until she reached her apartment.

  She buzzed herself in the front door and stepp
ed into instant warmth. Mrs. King greeted her as she walked by with a smile. Brooke gave her own best smile and then took the elevator up to her apartment. She opened the door and shut it behind her, not even bothering to lock it – she just collapsed on her couch with a surprising noise of breaking glass.

  Brooke jumped up and looked around for what she had sat on for a moment until she realized she’d just shattered the pictures she’d taken off of her desk. She carefully took them out of her pocket and walked over to the trash can. She salvaged the pictures and with a careful hand dropped the broken frames into the trash.

  Then she took off her coat, hung it on her coat rack, and only then did she lock the door. She walked to her kitchen and opened the freezer, searching for something she could toss in the microwave. She found an old TV dinner – it didn’t look appealing – and grabbed it anyway, reading the packaging and tossing it into the microwave.

  She found herself opening a bottle of wine to go with the TV dinner and after a few minutes, Brooke was in the living room turning on the TV. She tuned it to the news and ate and drank without really watching.

  She’d been fired.

  No, laid off. Like that’s any different. Can I file for unemployment? Should I even bother?

  Brooke finished her TV dinner, her glass of wine, and then made her way to the kitchen. She tossed the empty box away, put the glass in the sink, and then made her way to her bedroom, feeling completely unfulfilled.

  She thought about taking a bath and decided she didn’t have the energy. Instead, she took off her day clothes and slipped into something a bit more comfortable. Slowly, she trudged out into her living room and collapsed upon the couch again. She looked out the open window and watched as the sleet started to freeze against it.

  Why couldn’t it be snow? Why did she have to lose her job when she needed it most?

  At least I’m debt free, she reminded herself, though at the moment it did little to ease her sour mood. She was jobless and alone in New York City, and she didn’t know what she was going to do.