Anton held out a hand as large as Mitchell’s and took hers carefully. “What the captain means, is that once upon a time I served under him.” His brown eyes twinkled. He escorted them the few steps to the booth he was sharing with his friend,
“I’d like you to meet Drew Wolfmann, sir,” Anton said. “Drew, this is Capt. Reynolds and his fiancée, Zoë Worth. Drew’s Corps too.”
Zoë shook hands with Anton’s friend. Her nose and his name informed her he was a werewolf. Wolfmann, Wolfmann and Drake were her family’s attorneys. But since this man was dressed in neatly pressed khakis with a Mystic Bay Police patch, she didn’t need her bear intuition to realize he was not a lawyer.
“What are you doing in Mystic Bay, Benoit?” Mitchell asked.
“I live here, sir. Came for a wedding and met the girl of my dreams*.” Anton grinned. “I’ve got a job at the maritime museum, sir.”
Mitchell raised his brows.
Benoit chuckled. “I’m director of security, sir. I make sure our stuff doesn’t get stolen and that we don’t buy fakes or stolen goods.”
“A little less of the sir, Benoit,” Mitchell said. “I’m no longer an officer. I’ve retired from the Corps.”
Both Benoit and Wolfmann nodded sagely but didn’t comment.
A server in a white shirt with ‘Lily’ embroidered on her breast pocket came over. She had a coffee pot in one hand and a couple of thick white mugs in the other. She set them down without being asked and began to pour.
She pulled out her order pad. “What’ll it be?”
“They need menus, Lily,” objected Anton genially. “It’s their first time.”
“Welcome to Mystic Bay,” Lily said perfunctorily, as she swung on her heel.
“Speaking of which, what brings you here in this weather?” Anton asked.
“We’re staying at my aunt’s cottage on Bear Lookout,” Mitchell said.
Anton whistled. “That’s the old Reynolds’ place,” he said to Drew. “Where Rafael D’Angelo stayed last summer.**”
“I understand it’s pretty isolated,” Wolfmann said. “No road access, and perched at the top of the cliff, right?”
“Uh huh,” Zoë said.
“The place needs some work,” Mitchell confessed.
Zoë bit her tongue. She tried to smile. But there was nothing amusing about that cold, blustery location and icy log cabin. She was dreading the trip back and the slog up those winding stairs in the rain.
And if and when Mitchell winterized the place, there would be dust, dirt and noise. A trifecta of unpleasant. For two pins she would find herself a room in town. Except that she had given her word. A Worth didn’t ever break their promise.
“I’ll say,” Anton said. “I’ve been up there. Did you know that cabin is probably the oldest building on the island?”
Zoë hadn’t been aware. That factoid certainly explained its lack of civilized comforts.
“It needs renovations,” Mitchell said. “Insulation. And some source of power. Mind you, it’s in pretty good shape for an old building.”
“No electricity?” asked Drew wonderingly.
“Nope,” Zoë said.
“You’ll need permits before you touch that cabin,” Lily said severely as she handed them their menus. “The Reynolds cabin is a valuable part of West Haven heritage.”
“Lily’s right,” Anton said briskly.
“Of course, I’m right,” the middle-aged server responded. “We can’t have strangers coming in and pulling down our last remaining pioneer building.”
Zoë was interested in what Lily had said, not because her eavesdropping was unusual, but because she was primed with her comment. Bear Lookout had been discussed in town long before she and Mitchell showed up. The locals were up to something. Abruptly she felt right in her element. Handling politicians was what she did.
“We don’t plan to knock it down,” Mitchell said. “Just to bring it up to code.” He waited until Lily had stalked off before he broached the subject again. “So how do I go about getting work permits?”
“Town Hall,” Anton said. “You’ll need some support if you plan to do major work. And I wouldn’t discount Miss Lily, her mom sits on the council.”
“Small towns. Gotta love ‘em,” Wolfmann said. “I’ve done some construction and my hours are down to part-time for the winter, so if you need a hand, just holler.”
“I’ll take you up on that, Wolfmann,” Mitchell said.
“I’ll be glad to help out some on the weekends,” Anton said. “But Serena and I are building our own place and I’m pretty busy.” He leaned forward. “And just so you know, we had a dickens of a time getting the council to approve our house, even though the land has been in Serena’s family for most of two hundred years.”
“But why?” asked Zoë.
“I’m a bear. Serena’s a mermaid. But mostly, I’m from away.”
*Beloved by the Bear
**Fated for the Phoenix
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Mitchell~
The clerk at the Mystic Bay Town Hall peered at them over his glasses. Brad Lodge, as the nameplate on his desk declared him to be, was a stout man with a round red face and a nervous manner.
He listened to their request for a marriage license in apparent disbelief. But after a prolonged hunt in a drawer he produced the correct forms for Mitchell and Zoë to fill out.
“I’ll have to verify your information before I can issue your license,” he announced as he placed their completed forms in an overflowing file tray, instead of processing them.
“I thought that was what showing you our driver’s licenses did,” Mitchell argued.
“My computer’s down,” Brad said triumphantly. “Can’t issue a license until it comes back online.”
“We’re only in town for a few hours,” Zoë said gently. “How long is this going to take, Mr. Lodge?”
Brad shrugged. His brightly colored sweater moved up and down. “I haven’t the foggiest. It’s weather related.”
“It’s barely drizzling,” objected Mitchell.
“All I know,” Brad said stubbornly, “Is that our server’s down.”
“Couldn’t you call the DMV?” Zoë asked.
“I have to follow procedure.”
“Can we at least book our wedding slot?” Mitchell asked.
“Not without a license you can’t,” Brad informed them cheerfully.
“We’ll stop by on our way home,” Mitchell said.
Brad’s smile faded. “Could take days for the server to get back up. High winds in Friday Harbor.”
Mitchell accepted what couldn’t be changed. “We’ll also need permits for some work we need to do on our property. Can we get those here?”
“Depends on what you want to do. Address?” Brad asked.
“Bear Lookout,” Mitchell said.
“Do you have a plot number?”
Mitchell retrieved the paper where he had written down the information Aunt Ursula had given him. Brad typed and hit enter. “Are you the owner of record?” he asked suspiciously.
“The property transfer may not have been registered yet. Try Ursula Reynolds.”
“That’s what I’ve got. You can’t get a permit without her written permission.” Brad paused. Light reflected off his glasses concealing his eyes. “However, if the council approves work permits for Ms. Reynolds,” he said carefully, “That approval will not automatically transfer to you.”
“Why not?” demanded Zoë. To Mitchell’s surprise she had cheered up tremendously since they had entered the Town Hall. The frustrating encounter with the clerk seemed to have energized her.
“Because it won’t,” Brad said as if surprised by such an obvious query. “Permits are issued to people, not to properties.” He paused. “And of course, there will be the usual thirty-day residency requirement.”
“I see,” Mitchell said through his aching teeth. “What work can I do without approval?”
�
��Necessary repairs to the fabric of the building – provided you use only period-appropriate materials.”
“What does that mean?” demanded Zoë who was taking notes on her phone.
Brad frowned and consulted his computer. “In the case of the cabin on Bear Lookout,” Brad said, “Materials that conform to those originally used in its construction.”
Mitchell smiled. At least he intended to smile. But Brad took a step backward, so maybe he just bared his teeth. Ha. “The cabin has at least three stages of construction,” he pointed out. “Which one counts as ‘original’?”
Brad’s helpfulness vanished. “I guess we’ll have to get our own inspector out there.”
“Fine,” Mitchell said. “When can they come? I need to winterize that cabin so I can fulfill the residency requirement.”
“What do you mean by winterize?” Brad asked.
“Insulation, double-glazed windows. A furnace or woodstove.”
“You can’t cut down trees in the Old Forest,” Brad said immediately. “And I don’t know how you insulate a log cabin.”
“We know about the Old Forest,” Mitchell said through his teeth. “There is a stand of trees on our land grown for firewood. Or we can order a couple of cords.”
“Long way to haul wood,” Brad said.
“Yes. Which is why we’ll want to install a temporary elevator from the dock to the top of the cliff,” Mitchell said.
“I don’t know,” Brad looked even more doubtful. “Sounds like you need to make your case before the council.”
“When can we do that?” Mitchell all but snarled.
“When you’ve completed your thirty-day residency.” Brad placed his hands on the counter in the manner of one laying down a winning hand.
Beside him, Zoë gave a genteel snort, a kind of half-laugh. “Can we put in a hot-water heater without a permit?” she asked sweetly.
“I really couldn’t say. Not unless the inspector had approved it.”
Zoë smiled. Brad blushed an unbecoming purple. “Could we have a copy of all the relevant bylaws so we can be sure to follow them?” she cooed.
“All of them? It’s twenty cents a sheet.”
“Of course.” She was wide-eyed and innocent. “Unless we can access them online? We wouldn’t want to break any rules.”
“Our bylaws are not online,” Brad said quickly. It took a long time for him to print the pages out. They made a hefty stack.
Mitchell quietly paid the outrageous fee. Zoë produced a tote bag from her purse and they stuffed the bundle inside it. She practically tugged him out the door and down the steps. Once outside she burst into giggles.
“I’m glad you find it so amusing.” Mitchell folded his arms across his chest. “You do realize they just tied us up in red tape and made a bow?”
“Oh, yeah,” she assured him between whoops.
“Aunt Ursula said that everyone would be happy there were to be bears on Bear Lookout once more,” he grumbled.
“Why don’t we call her and see if she can talk to her friends?” Zoë took his arm. As his mood had grown darker, hers seemed to have lifted. “Maybe she can pull some strings for us.”
“You’re in an awfully good mood for someone who’s found out that she has to bathe in cold water for the foreseeable future,” Mitchell said. Which was an improvement on her general grumpiness.
“I am, aren’t I? I guess I feel right at home here. These are my kind of folks. We just have to figure out what they want and give it to them. Come on, we still have to buy those olives.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Mayor’s office
Mystic Bay, Town Hall
Sully~
“Are they gone?” Robin peeped around his shoulder.
“Looks like it.” Sully said. “Well, what do you think?”
“I think they are taking each other for granted because they have known each other so long,” she said.
“Their auras line up.” He stroked his beard, which always helped him think.
“They do. But they weren’t resonating properly.” Robin pursed her lips.
“It’ll come,” Sully assured her. “Lots of passion there. But friends to lovers takes time.”
Her face lit up. She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, even though he was in his old salt persona with a bushy beard and bushier hair. To say nothing of his reeking oilskins. “We are proof of that,” she murmured. “But I don’t want them to spend a decade making the transition.”
Sometimes she could be delightfully naive. “I don’t think they’ll need ten years.” Probably not ten months or ten weeks either. Ten days was more like it. He swept her into his arms and kissed her properly. Her perfect hair was a little mussed when he set her back down, and her cheeks were tinted a delicate pink.
“I still say that a little adversity is just the jump start they need,” she declared. “Although Brad may have gone overboard,” she said.
“Ya think.” Sully opened the frosted glass door fully and went out to the reception room where Brad Lodge was sitting, head in hands, the picture of despair.
“As soon as they read those bylaws,” Lodge complained, “They’re going to realize we have no way to stop them from doing anything on Bear Lookout.” He paused. “I mean, the council could declare the cabin a historical building, but they haven’t.”
Sully laid a hand on Lodge’s twitching shoulder and pulsed a calming spell at the clerk’s aura. “Don’t worry, Robin and I won’t let the bears hurt you.” Not that they would. But Lodge wouldn’t believe that.
“Besides,” Robin said smugly. “I’ll bet they won’t manage to read half of that stuff before next Saturday. They won’t have time.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Sully told her. “You saw how determined Zoë is. I’ll bet she plans to go home and read every word tonight.”
Lodge turned pale. “I t-think I’d l-like a f-few d-days off, M-mayor,” he stuttered.
“All will be well,” Robin said serenely. “Those two have been given a shared hardship. And if they want to keep warm, they may do so the old-fashioned way.”
Lodge turned from white to purple. Couldn’t be good for the poor fellow’s heart.
“What do you mean?” Sully growled at her.
“There’s a working fireplace in the Reynolds cabin,” Robin pointed out silkily. “They should light a fire.”
Or something.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Zoë~
“You ready for bed?” Mitchell asked.
Zoë glanced up from the pile of papers she was skimming through. “Huh? What time is it?”
“Way past the time mommies-to-be are supposed to be in bed.” He leered at her.
He had already taken off his shirt and socks. And it appeared he had just shaved. His wide expanse of furred and muscular chest was far more tempting than the minute typeface.
She blinked and stretched, enjoying the way his eyes fastened on her jiggling breasts. “I guess I am a little tired.” She straightened the three piles of paper she had created and set a fork on each as a makeshift paperweight.
“Find anything?” he asked.
“Nope. Just a mind-numbing number of ordinances about septic tanks. I assume we have one?”
“Sure.”
“Well, I now know more than I ever wanted to about the correct procedures for installing and maintaining them.”
“Good to know.”
“No, it’s not,” she said carefully. She pumped water at the kitchen sink and filled her glass. Sipped while she marshaled her thoughts.
“There was absolutely no reason for that town clerk to print out sixty-seven pages of regs appertaining to the care and feeding of septic systems. Not to mention the rest of this waste of trees. Kind of makes me wonder who wants us swathed in red tape.”
“Huh.” He picked up the LED lantern she had been using and herded her toward the bedroom. “You can tell me later.”
She stopped cold a
nd let him collide with her back. “No, really. The only even halfway relevant regs I’ve found are those forbidding construction near or over any part of a septic system.”
“That’s just common sense,” he said turning her around. “What’s your point?”
“That I’ve just spent hours sifting through a whole lot of nothing. Someone wants to bury us in bureaucracy. Why?”
His arms encircled her. He kissed her hair. Which was nice. But distracting. “We’re summer people. They like things the way they are. Historical. And they don’t care how inconvenient the cabin is for us – our inconvenience is no skin off their nose.”
Her intuition told her there was something off. But it wasn’t directed at preserving the past. Or not entirely. “That doesn’t feel right.”
He smoothed out the wrinkles in her nose with one forefinger. “Go brush your teeth. We can worry about that in the morning.”
She yawned. She was tired. Not too tired for what she hoped Mitchell had in mind. But wearier than she ought to have been. She supposed it must be being pregnant. Didn’t that suck?
She bit the bullet and had another icy wash. Mitchell was wrong about that too. It wasn’t the first shock that was worst. It was the entire experience. She crammed her new fleece nightgown on over her damp and freezing body, stuffed her cold toes into her fuzzy slippers and joined Mitchell.
“What are you wearing?” he asked.
“Fleece.” She pulled the covers over her shoulders. This afternoon, she had invested in a king-sized down comforter in the hopes that she could retain some of the covers when Mitchell had taken the lion’s share.
The hands that sought her under the cozy blanket were hot. “I’ll keep you warm,” he vowed. He tugged at the hem of her nightgown. “How does this thing come off?”
“It doesn’t,” she growled. “I’m freezing.”
“Poor Zoë,” he said as his hands delved underneath and made contact with her legs and feet. “Dang. You really are cold.”
“I told you so.”
“You need exercise,” he said sternly. “An elevated heart rate will warm you up.”
“Ooh. That’s quite the line in sexy bed talk, you’ve got there,” she teased.
Bedded by the Bear: A Shifters in Love Fun & Flirty Romance (Mystic Bay Book 6) Page 11