Bedded by the Bear: A Shifters in Love Fun & Flirty Romance (Mystic Bay Book 6)

by Isadora Montrose

  “I came close to marrying her Great-Uncle Oscar.” Ursula rinsed out the carafe and put it back in the coffee maker. Her lined face took on a wistful expression.

  “Did you?” Which of Griff’s relatives was Oscar?

  “I did. But Oscar didn’t make it off Juno Beach.” Ursula hobbled less awkwardly back out to the deck. “Sit down and listen politely to an old lady.”

  He held her chair steady and seated himself.

  “When Bill Worth passed away, Zoë, Cindy, and Griff inherited every penny that he left. And a pretty penny it is too. Bill grew his own inheritance into quite a pile.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Griff’s father and mother had lived modestly, but Mitchell was aware that the Worths’ holdings were as healthy as his own. He couldn’t have drawn the family tree, but he knew that Worths met Reynoldses in the complex way of small communities. Over the years, there had been a lot of intermarriage in Luck Harbor.

  “But why would that be a problem, ma’am? Griff, Cindy and Zoë are all level-headed and sensible.”

  Ursula peered at him and snorted. “You’re not interested in marrying money. I know that. But there are lots of men who are. Now that her daddy is gone, and Griffin and Cindy are deployed, Zoë needs someone to look out for her before she makes a mistake.”

  “What sort of mistake?” he inquired cautiously. What exactly did Aunt Ursula know?

  “There’s a fellow up in Olympia who’s been sniffing around her. A lawyer.” Aunt Ursula made ‘lawyer’ sound like ‘con man’. Interesting.

  “Zoë brought him up here last summer.” Disapproval dripped from her voice. “I wasn’t impressed. Neither was anyone in the clan. We oldsters want her mated and married. But not to that one.”

  “What’s wrong with her boyfriend?”

  “Chadwick Ellery Trafford III is nothing more than a fortune hunter.”

  He raised his brows. “Are you sure? Zoë strikes me as too smart to fall for a moneygrubber.”

  “Hmph. I daresay she is. But you listen to me. That fellow may be just an old-fashioned fortune hunter but he’s slick.”

  Mitchell played devil’s advocate. “She’s a lovely woman. Smart, kind, competent. What’s not to love? Maybe Trafford wants her for herself.”

  “You think that a bunch of old bears couldn’t tell if that boy was in love with our little she-bear?” Ursula snapped. “You ask your Granddad and Grandma what they thought of Chadwick Trafford. Only person he’s in love with is himself.”

  “What if she loves him anyway?” What if she preferred not to have a baby out of wedlock?

  Aunt Ursula snorted again. “Then she needs to be rescued from herself too. Trafford has political aspirations and he wants Zoë’s trust fund to help fulfill them. It’s not his ambition we object to, but the fact that he’s no more in love with her than that table.”

  Was old Three the father of Zoë’s baby? Or did she have a string of suitors? He had succeeded in squelching the sizzle between them last night, or at least not acting on it, but Ursula was playing him like a fiddle. He could feel his pulse accelerating and his muscles tensing for action. Even if he hadn’t felt it in years, he knew jealousy when it narrowed its green eyes.

  “You’d have made a great commander, Aunt Ursula.” He grinned at her. “You want me to eliminate this Chadwick Ellery Trafford III?”

  The wrinkles around her eyes deepened in amusement. “Just by taking Zoë out of circulation,” she said dryly. “No need to get violent. Once he realizes she’s unavailable, Trafford will find himself some other rich woman.”

  “Hmm. What about Zoë’s feelings? What if she wants Trafford?”

  Ursula gave Mitchell a stern look. “You owe it to Griff to look out for his little sister.”

  “Well played, Aunt Ursula. The guilt card is a nice touch,” he said wryly.

  “I saw you dancing with her,” she said. “Made quite a glow out there under the glitter ball.”

  The glitter ball he recalled. But a glow? He didn’t think so. “Maybe you drank too much Bear Ridge Apple Jack?”

  She smacked his arm. “Mind your manners, young man. And if you marry Zoë, I’ll make Bear Outlook your wedding gift.”

  “I thought there was some urgency about me claiming that property?”

  Aunt Ursula made a face. “Told you about that, did I?”

  “Emailed me all last summer.”

  “I guess I did. Well, there is urgency, and there isn’t. You remember how the Reynoldses came to own that land?”

  “Something about how our I-don’t-know-how-many-greats-grandfather Lucky helped to take down a bunch of criminals, right?”

  “Paranormal criminals,” Aunt Ursula corrected him. “West Haven was founded by fairies. The Fairchilds built the town of Mystic Bay and invited shifters and psychics and other people of talent to settle there.” She laughed humorlessly. “Got more than they bargained for.”

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “This grizzly shifter settled out in the woods, built himself a cabin. Pretty normal. But then he started stealing and threatening his neighbors. And then he married or snatched – I’m not sure which – a fairy woman and founded an outlaw dynasty. Those fairy-grizzly hybrids ended up murdering most of the population. Legend has it that they ate their victims. But that’s probably a tall tale.”

  “Umm. And what did that have to do with our Lucky?”

  “He was asked to help get rid of the Haverstocks. He joined a bunch of cougars, wolves and other shifters who went to West Haven and exterminated the entire bunch. The good folk of Mystic Bay were so grateful, they allowed their saviors to buy land.”

  “Allowed them to buy land?” Mitchell asked in astonishment.

  “Yup. At full price too. Plus they only retained title at the discretion of the Mystic Bay Town Council. Apparently, the council figured that way they would keep control if another lot of predatory shifters went bad. That they could turf them out legally before they got to killing people.”

  “Anyone ever explain to the good folks of Mystic Bay that maintaining a legal right depends on law-abiding folks acknowledging that right?” Mitchell asked dryly. “Doesn’t seem likely that desperadoes would quietly leave their property just because they were asked nicely by some tremblers.”

  Aunt Ursula smiled ruefully. “I’d guess not. Anyway, to cut a long story short, we Reynoldses retain title to our land only if we use it. The last few years I haven’t been able to get out there. Up there. The cabin is at the top of a cliff. If some bear doesn’t live there for a full thirty days before December 31, the land reverts to the council. Without compensation.”

  Mitchell whistled.

  “I want you to take Zoë there. Call it a honeymoon. No way that slippery devil will get near her up there.”

  “Because every girl’s dream is to go live in a hundred-year-old log cabin on the edge of a bluff, without electricity or running water or a road to town.”

  “It has water.”

  “Right.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Zoë~

  She had dreamed all night of Mitchell’s kiss. It had been way better than the ones she had imagined when she was a girl. A little touch of tongue. The deeply arousing taste of male bear. In her dreams he had done more than kiss her too. This morning, her body felt loved and yet unsatisfied.

  Zoë hauled herself into the shower. The Luck Harbor Motel was a more than adequate hostelry and had its own coffee shop. Unfortunately, when she had checked in she had overlooked the fact that her out-of-town relatives would also be staying here. She needed to be up and gone before any of them sniffed her out.

  It didn’t take long to dress and do her makeup. She spritzed herself well with the heavy-duty perfume, even though she found the scent faintly daunting on an empty stomach. Then she tossed her few things back in her overnight bag and was ready to hit the road.

  That coffee shop tempted her, but she could see through the plate glass window lots
of the aunts and uncles she was avoiding. Before she could get into her little hatchback, however, two separate groups of bears spotted her. She couldn’t get away without hugs and kisses and admonitions to drive safe.

  She heaved a sigh of relief as she put Luck Harbor and her strait-laced clan in the rearview mirror. Hopefully she had kept her secret. But it was a sad foretaste of her future. What she needed was a temporary husband slash fiancé. Maybe she should advertise on bearmate.com for a stopgap mate? And what sort of sorry son of a bear would agree to that?

  Half an hour out of Luck Harbor, her stomach reminded her she hadn’t even had coffee yet. She bypassed the small towns and waited until she found a truck stop that was right on the highway. The usual assortment of big men and wary tourists were crowded up by the counter. However, the tables and booths were only sparsely filled.

  Her heart juddered and restarted. Mitchell Reynolds was sitting by himself, nursing two paper cups of coffee, his back ramrod straight. Before she could turn around to leave, he spotted her and stood up.

  Pulse pounding, she reluctantly joined him. Last night she had played with fire. Now she was feeling more cautious.

  “Good morning.” He pulled out a chair for her.

  Her heart fluttered. His scent enveloped her. A musky masculine blend of bear pheromones and soap that made it hard for her to concentrate on what he was saying.

  “Hi,” she responded a beat too late. “I should get myself some coffee. And I am taking your friend’s chair.”

  His brown eyes opened and closed in amusement. He smiled slowly and deliciously. “You’re the friend.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. I’ve been waiting for you. I figured you’d leave Luck Harbor without eating breakfast.”

  “Huh?” She peeled the lid off the coffee he placed before her and inhaled the steam. Delicious. She sipped. It was hot and satisfying. “How did you know I would come in here?”

  She kept her eyes on Mitchell’s hands, rather than on his face. His big competent hands. She wished with all her heart that she could put her problems in those capable hands. She swallowed hard. This was an attraction she couldn’t act on. If Mitchell knew her secret, he would tell Griff in a heartbeat.

  “First decent rest stop in this direction.” If he was joking it didn’t show on his face.

  “Oh. You really bought this coffee for me?”

  Mitchell didn’t look dangerous, but he certainly looked serious. “Yup.”

  “What if I had gone into Little Rock or South Hampton?” She named the towns she had passed.

  “Not a chance. You’d lose all kinds of time going downtown to find a restaurant.” He was aggravatingly certain.

  On the other hand, here she was. She sipped her coffee for something to do. Drew courage from its heat. “Why did you want to catch me?”

  “Aunt Ursula thinks you need help. I had to agree. You may recall that your brother is my oldest friend.” He shrugged. “So, seeing as I’m here, you want some help?”

  The tears she hadn’t allowed herself before rolled down her cheeks. She wasn’t a quiet crier. No dainty tear-washed eyes with a star-burst of damp lashes for her. Her sobs were loud, her tears burned. All around them, large men in gimme caps gawked at them.

  “Go wash your face,” he said when she hiccupped to a halt, totally mortified.

  In the restroom, her worst fears were realized. Her tears had turned her eyes and cheeks bright red and clumped her lashes unattractively. Ruined her mascara. Working in politics had taught her the value of keeping your emotions under wraps. Nothing said, ‘I’m in control’ like perfect makeup. Nothing said, ‘I’m a basket case’ like raccoon eyes and blotchy skin.

  She usually went for the how-much-can-I-wear-and-still-appear-to-be-wearing-none look. Today she had opted for enough foundation to conceal both her fatigue and her worries. But her tears had eroded her complexion. She rummaged in her purse and got busy.

  What had gotten into her? Why had she responded to Mitchell’s offer with a flood? Hormones. Everyone knew pregnancy made you emotional. Before she rejoined Mitchell, she just barely remembered to spritz herself again with perfume. What had he meant when he offered to help her?

  He was standing at ease outside the restroom door, as if he had every right to wait for her. He opened his arms and she found herself swept off her feet into a hug. “It can’t be that bad,” he told her hair.

  “Yes, it can.”

  “Let’s get you some more coffee.” He herded her back into the line.

  “What did you do with the other cup?”

  “I drank it.”

  “Was I really gone that long?”

  “Uh huh.”

  He ordered for them both, piling everything onto a clean tray. “Let’s go.” He found them a table. It was oddly comforting to follow his lead.

  Mitchell placed coffee and an apple in front of her. Peeled the lid off his coffee. “Tell me.” It was part command and part offer to ease her burden.

  She couldn’t face telling him the truth and seeing contempt on his face. “I quit my job.” It was true as far as that went. She was unemployed.

  “Eat your apple,” he advised.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You’re eating for two. If you don’t fancy the apple, eat the sandwich.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You know?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Well, sure.” He tapped his nose.

  She was pretty sure that not even the extra foundation she had applied hid her blush. She took a small bite of the apple. It was tasteless. An exercise in chewing. She washed it down with a gulp of coffee.

  “Good girl.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Sorry. Figure of speech. I guess to me you’ll always be twelve years old and in need of coaching to get through algebra.”

  Shift on a yellow stick. So much for last night’s pleasant fantasies. Her face heated more. How embarrassing. Here she had been thinking of hot monkey sex and damp sheets, and he was harking back to seventh grade algebra, pigtails and braces. Plus, he knew she was pregnant.

  She swallowed hard, summoned up a smile. “Did I ever thank you for explaining it to me?”

  “Probably wrote me a note on pink paper,” he teased.

  “If I did, and I am not admitting anything, you were supposed to treasure that note forever and lay it up in lavender.”

  He chuckled. Despite telling her he saw her as a child, his deep rumble went clear through her body. Every hair stood up and saluted him. He was such a potent guy. Her mouth was suddenly full of the cheese and ham sandwich he had unwrapped for her, and she was enjoying it.

  He watched her eat both sandwich and apple. Smiled and waggled his cup at her. “More?” he asked.

  “No, thanks.”

  He leaned back. Glanced at his watch. “You want to tell me about Chadwick Ellery Trafford III before we get back on the road?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Mitchell~

  He shouldn’t have just blurted it out like that. Zoë put her sandwich back down on the paper wrapper and pushed it away. She had repaired her makeup in the women’s room, but it hadn’t helped much. She still looked strained and exhausted. And now he had made bad worse by being too direct.

  “I know eating is hard,” he said. “But eat anyway. Think of it as fuel.”

  She tried another small bite. Washed it down with her coffee like it was made of bark. But she swallowed. He returned to his own burrito. It wasn’t bad. Of course a career in the military cured you of fussiness double plus quick.

  Zoë didn’t look like a woman who should pick at her food. She looked like a female with a large appetite. For everything. Old Three hadn’t had to close his eyes and imagine he was with someone else when he was doing Zoë. Of course, that didn’t mean the bastard loved her. But maybe she loved him.

  “What exactly did you want to know about Chad?” she asked wearily.

  “Aunt Ursula thinks he’s a fo
rtune hunter,” he said.

  She sighed. “Aunt Ursula is right.”

  “I take it the baby is his?”

  Zoë blushed harder. But she nodded.

  “Did you really quit your job?” he asked.

  “I really did.”

  “Is the governor that old-fashioned about out-of-wedlock pregnancy?”

  She laughed bitterly. “No. But Chad runs in and out of the governor’s offices like a tame spaniel. I resigned before anyone could find out I’m pregnant and pass it on to him. It seemed easier that way.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t want Chad to know about the baby.” She folded her arms across her bosom. “Too many complications.”

  “Define complications. This is 2018. What the heck can he do to you?”

  Zoë raised both eyebrows. “He’s a lawyer. He can sue for custody or visitation and win. He can tell Uncle Bruce and the rest of the clan, stand back and act penitent as they hector me into marrying him.”

  He thought about that. “Aunt Ursula said the elders didn’t like him one bit. Didn’t trust him.”

  “So? Do you really think those good old mountain men are going to prefer that I have a bastard instead of marrying one?”

  “Hmm.” She had a point. He could see those hidebound old bears going after Three with a shotgun. Or a pitchfork.

  “Which would suit Chad just fine.” The downward curve of her lips became a tight line.

  “But you don’t want to marry him?” he checked. It wouldn’t be the first time a woman made a foolish choice.

  She nodded. “I was stupid enough to think it was my charms that drew him. But Chad wants my trust fund, not me. Certainly not a baby. He intends to run for district attorney. The governor’s mansion is his ultimate objective. I’m just a stepping stone.”

  Mitchell folded his arms across his chest. “Not going to happen,” he assured her. Zoë’s money derived from Lucky Reynolds’ stash. It was not really Mitchell’s business what she did with her share, but spending it on some dirtbag’s political ambitions felt wrong.