by Liv Brywood
Claim Me Cowbear
Liv Brywood
Description
Sasha has exactly one week to create an original ceramic sculpture for a rich art aficionado. If she doesn’t come up with an amazing piece, she can kiss her business goodbye. Drowning in debt, she’s on a mission to find a new creative idea. When she travels to the Curvy Bear Ranch Artist’s Retreat, she never expects to meet a kindred spirit in sexy bear shifter Jack Brock. The ruggedly handsome metal sculpture artist is everything she ever wanted in a mate. Too bad she isn’t looking for love.
Three years ago, Jack was the sole survivor of a horrific plane crash. Every morning he wakes up ready to jump headfirst into a new adventure. Putting down roots is completely out of the question. He’s been given a second chance at life, and he wants to experience everything it has to offer. But when he meets Sasha, his bear won’t let him ignore her curvy hips and stunning smile. But to fall in love would mean giving up his freedom, and he’s not ready to make that sacrifice.
Excerpt
Sasha moaned as his fingers tangled in her hair. The emotional rollercoaster of their conversation had left her wrung out and needy. She craved this complicated man’s touch in a way that made her question her sanity. But as his lips moved across hers in a soul-scorching kiss, she pushed aside any doubts she had about him. So what if he was completely messed up. Maybe she needed chaos right now. Maybe a passionate night in his arms was exactly what she needed to regain her creative spark.
When his hands slid down her neck, the feral passion in his touch awakened every inch of her body. Heat pooled in her liquid center. She sighed as he traced hungry kisses down her throat. His fingers glided down her back, leaving a trail of quivering flesh in their wake.
As he scraped his palms over her hips, her knees went weak. She leaned against the solid wall of muscle on his chest. Her hands slipped into the waistband of his jeans. He groaned and pressed his forehead against her collarbone for a moment before rising up to nip at her earlobe.
She shuddered with lust as his teeth closed over her sensitive skin. He’d found one of her hot buttons, and boy did he know how to press it.
Swirling, languid swipes of his tongue descended toward her neck. She arched, giving him access to the most vulnerable part of her body. He didn’t waste a second. Instead, he unzipped her jacket and slid his hands inside.
“Tell me if you get cold,” he whispered against her neck.
“Impossible,” she murmured.
“Even if I stripped you down and laid you in the snow?”
She smiled at the teasing tone in his voice.
“And here I was thinking that you’re a gentleman,” she joked.
He drew back and regarded her with a serious expression. “You must think I’m an animal.”
“You are an animal,” she whispered. “Positively beastly.”
“You have no idea,” he growled.
“Then show me,” she challenged. “Inspire me.”
Claim Me Cowbear
Liv Brywood
Claim Me Cowbear
Copyright© 2016 Liv Brywood
Amazon Edition
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 permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
About the Author
Chapter 1
As Sasha drove her truck under a wooden sign marked Curvy Bear B&B, a smile spread across her face. To the right of the dirt road, a crop of bright orange pumpkins sat on drying vines. A scarecrow dressed in a Tyrannosaurus rex Halloween costume hovered over the patch, adding a festive charm to the ranch’s entrance.
A spark of excitement awakened her bear. She couldn’t wait to spend a week at the artist’s retreat. Her bear sniffed the pine-scented air with approval. She’d never expected to discover a ranch dedicated to helping shifters find a community so close to her home. The website had promised a week of inspiring exercises in a variety of artistic mediums—everything from metalworking to oil painting.
After battling piles of uninspiring clay, she needed a break. But she couldn’t play around too much. Her favorite patron, Nancy Bran, expected a fully fired piece of unique art for her mansion by the end of the week. If Sasha couldn’t design an amazing clay creation, Nancy would drop her in favor of an artist who wasn’t wallowing in creative hell.
Gravel crunched under the truck’s tires as she approached the parking area. Several cars formed a line to the right of the barn. She pulled up beside them and turned off the engine. As she hopped out, a curvy woman with fluffy golden-blonde hair approached her from the direction of a large ranch-style home.
“Welcome to the ranch. I’m Abigail, but you can call me Abby,” she said.
“I’m Sasha,” she said.
“Did you find the place okay?” Abby asked.
“Yes, your directions were great.”
“Here, let me help you with your bags,” Abby said.
“Thank you.” Sasha pulled a bag out of the back seat and handed it to her. “I usually pack a lot lighter, but I wasn’t sure which tools I was going to need this week. I have clay in the back, but I’ll come back for that.”
A tall, muscular man with wavy brown hair and bright green eyes strolled around the side of the barn. Dressed in jeans, a red-and-white checkered shirt, and sporting a tan Stetson, he carried himself with a cool confidence.
“Hey, hon.” Abby stood on her tiptoes as she stretched to kiss the man. “This is my husband, Cody.”
“Nice to meet you.” Darn, too bad he was already married.
“I heard you say you have clay in the back. I’d be happy to grab it for you,” Cody said.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother,” Sasha said.
“It’s no bother,” he said.
“He likes showing off his muscles,” Abby joked.
“Any chance I get.” He winked at his wife. “I’ll take this up to your room, Sasha. It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too,” Sasha said.
As Cody hauled two ten-pound blocks of clay out of the truck’s bed, Sasha pulled a second bag out of the back seat. She followed Abby up the road past the ranch home toward the two-story B&B.
“Wow. This place is huge,” Sasha said.
“We have twenty rooms for guests, but we’re only about half full this week,” Abby said. “During the summer and at Christmas we tend to fill up, but business is slower in the spring and fall. That’s partially why I decided to run this retreat.”
“I can’t wait. I have a feeling this week is going to be great,” Sasha said.
“We love to host other shifters at the B&B. I’m surprised by how many of us live in areas without other bears. You’re a grizzly shifter, right?” Abby asked.
“Yep.” Her bear stretched in her chest. “She can’t wait to come out and run around the woods. Is it fairly safe, or do you have problems with hunters?”
“We used to have a few issues, but we managed to scare away the humans,” Abby said. “So it’s basically safe, b
ut as usual, you should be careful if another bear approaches you. Some of the creatures in this area aren’t shifters. If you’re cautious, you should be fine.”
“You’re a painter, right?” Sasha asked.
“Oil and acrylic.”
“I work with clay.”
“Bowls and plates?” Abby asked. “Or figurines?”
“A little bit of everything,” Sasha said.
“Is it your full-time job?”
“For now,” she sighed. “I have a piece due at the end of the week and I can’t think of anything new and original.”
“Can you get an extension on the deadline?” Abby asked. “What’s the piece for?”
“It’s for my main patron. Without her, I’d be in trouble right now. The economy’s been terrible the last few years and I have very little money left. If I don’t fulfill this order, I’m going to lose my business.”
“We can’t have that happen.” Abby climbed the porch steps, then stopped in front of the door. “My goal this week is to enjoy the process of creating art. I know it’s not the easiest thing to do, but it might help you come up with a new design.”
“I hope so.”
Sasha followed her into the foyer. Polished wood floors led into a large living room. A fireplace sat in the center of one wall. Bookshelves stretched toward the vaulted ceiling. Oil paintings depicting bears and other nature scenes decorated the walls. Sasha’s eyes widened.
“This place is amazing,” she said.
“Thank you,” a woman said as she bustled out from the kitchen. “I’m Madison. I hope you’re hungry. My baked eggplant stuffed with ricotta cheese is almost ready.”
“It smells like sin,” Sasha said.
“You have no idea,” Madison said. “I live to cook sinfully scrumptious dishes.”
“She’s come a long way with her culinary skills. I keep telling her that she should start a cooking blog.”
“Maybe one day, when I have free time.” Madison laughed.
“I’ll help Sasha get settled,” Abby said. “We’ll be down in a few minutes.”
“Sounds good.”
After Madison disappeared back into the kitchen, Abby started up the stairs. Sasha followed. The warm, homey feel of the house continued to the second floor. Caramel-colored walls lined the hall. A polished wood floor reflected sunlight from a large picture.
“The other guests should be arriving shortly,” Abby said.
“I can’t wait to get started.”
“After lunch, you’ll have plenty of time to work on your project.” Abby opened one of the bedroom doors and let her inside.
A huge four-poster bed sat in the center of the room. A patchwork quilt in blue hues lay across the sheets. Above the bed, a painting depicting a grizzly bear in the forest hung on the wall. Her luggage sat piled near an antique mahogany dresser.
“This is beautiful,” Sasha said.
“Thank you. My sister-in-law Kate does most of the interior design. She’s passionate about color and light.”
“It shows.”
“I’ll let her know you like the room. She recently redesigned it,” Abby said. “Spare linens are in the closet. There’s an attached bath and plenty of space to stretch out. We just ask that you use a drop cloth if you’re going to work with clay in your room. You might be more comfortable in the art center. It’s adjacent to the barn.”
“No problem,” Sasha said. “I’ll move all of my supplies over there this afternoon.”
“Great. Take your time getting unpacked. Madison said the food will be ready soon, but there’s no rush.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure. I can’t wait to see your project. Are you starting something new or working with an existing piece?” Abby asked.
“A new one,” Sasha said.
“I love starting a new painting. All of the possibilities are laid out before me and I just have to choose which direction I want to go in.”
“Yeah,” Sasha said. She used to know exactly what she’d create when she looked at a piece of clay. Now, she had no idea.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Abby said. “If you need anything, just holler.”
“Sounds good.”
After Abby left the room, Sasha began unpacking. She set her laptop on a desk near the window and opened it. After connecting to the Wi-Fi, she checked her bank account balance.
“Ugh,” she grumbled.
If she didn’t finish the project this week, she’d have to find a different line of work and give up her dream of being a full-time artist.
***
Jack parked his black Ford F-150 between two other trucks next to a huge red barn. The property had a cutesy name—Curvy Bear Ranch—but the place screamed cowboy. He half-expected a man in leather chaps to walk bowlegged out of one of the fields. It seemed like an odd place to hold an artist’s retreat, but he lived for weird, new experiences.
He hopped out of the truck and grabbed a duffle bag full of metalworking tools. As he turned toward the ranch-style home, the front door opened. A six-foot-tall man with a neatly trimmed beard and mustache jogged down the steps. A second man followed behind him. The man’s wild, chocolate brown hair bounced in the wind.
“Mack Grant,” the first man said as he held out a hand.
“Jack Brock.” He shook the man’s hand.
“This is my brother, Logan,” Mack said as the second man walked up.
“Good to meet you,” Logan said.
“Same here.”
“Those your tools?” Mack asked with a nod at the duffle bag.
“Yep.”
“You can set up in the barn. We have a workshop in the back,” Mack said.
“Need any help carrying the rest of the tools?” Logan asked as he peered into the truck bed.
“Yeah, if you could grab the welder, I’d appreciate it,” Jack said.
“Will do. I’m glad a few men signed up for Abby’s art week. I wouldn’t mind playing with a little molten metal myself.” Logan hauled the equipment out of the truck and headed toward the barn.
“Just don’t burn it down,” Mack said.
“Nah, we’ll do the welding outside,” Logan said over his shoulder. “I brought out an extra fire extinguisher just in case.”
“Not the one from the kitchen, right?” Mack asked.
“God no. You think I’d leave your wife alone in there without backup?” Logan asked in a joking tone.
“Is she a bad cook?” Jack asked.
“She’s much better than she was a few months ago.” Mack grinned. “But now she’s into flambéing everything.”
“It’s those damn cooking shows on TV,” Logan said. “Just when we thought it was safe to go back in the kitchen.”
“Man, you’d better never let her hear you say that.”
“So you live here with your wives?” Jack set his bag of tools on the bench.
“Yep. There are six of us and a few kids running around,” Mack said.
“One big happy family,” Logan added. When they reached the back of the barn, he set the welder down on a bench. “You can leave everything here when you’re not working. We’re so far in from the main road that no one’s going to show up and steal anything.”
“And if someone did show up, we’d just maul him to death,” Mack said.
Jack raised a brow.
“He’s messing with you,” Logan said. “What kind of bear are you?”
“Grizzly,” Jack responded. He pulled his shoulders back with pride.
“We’re grizzlies too,” Mack said.
“Are all of your brothers shifters?” Jack asked.
“Yep. Some of our wives are too,” Logan added.
“How long have you been an artist?” Mack asked.
“I don’t know if I’d put a title on what I do,” Jack said. “I’ve been working with metal for a few months now. My bear loves it. I think he’s drawn to the fire.”
“It’s primal as shit,” Lo
gan said. “Is this your full-time gig?”
“At the moment, yes. I was an investment banker for years until I wised up. Life’s too short to be chained to a desk.”
“Agreed,” Mack said. “That’s one hell of a change in career.”
“A few years ago, I was in a plane crash,” Jack said. “I was the only person who survived.”
“Damn,” Logan said.
“When I got out of the hospital, I vowed that I’d try as many new experiences as I could. I quit my job and I’ve been roaming from adventure to adventure ever since.”
“There’s something to be said for freedom,” Mack said.
“I intend to explore everything life has to offer. This week is just one more notch in my belt.”
“You ever think about slowing down and staying put anywhere?” Mack asked.
“Hell no. I don’t want to be tied down to anything or anyone. When I get bored, I just move on to a new experience.”
“Well I hope you’re inspired by what we’ve got for you,” Mack said. “Follow me.”
Jack strolled past rows of horses. Maybe he’d get to ride a few while he was here. He hadn’t spent time on a ranch since last year’s cattle drive in South Dakota. It would be good to hang around cowboys for a while. The Grant brothers seemed like solid people, the kind of men who shot straight and didn’t have ulterior motives.
As they rounded a bend in the fence line, Jack stopped in his tracks. A mountain of twisted metal jutted out every which way. Everything from old bicycle wheels to aluminum siding lay in a giant heap. His pulse kicked at the possibilities.
“All this is for me?” he asked, unable to keep the childlike wonder from his voice.
“Yep. Last year I helped my wife clear out her dad’s house. You wouldn’t believe some of the stuff we found. Some of this is a little charred. Her old barn burnt down. But there should be some stuff you can work with,” Logan said.
“This is incredible,” Jack said. “I can’t wait to get started.”
In the distance, a bell rang.