Gifted To The Bear: A Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance (The Gifted Series Book 1) (8 page)

“Sometimes I
do
think I’d like to add ‘texting friends’ as a hobby, but before I met you today, I didn’t really have any friends here in Timberline to text. I used to text Jim a lot when I first got here, but he’s so busy he hardly ever has time to answer back, so I just kind of stopped. Now I can text you all the time, though, can’t I?”

Giving Jen a little smile, I set my coffee mug down, choosing my next words carefully. “Well, I’m not a
huge
texter, so maybe not
all
the time, but two or three texts a day would be just fine.”

After finishing a sip of orange juice, Jen smiled. “Awesome. And now there’s only one problem left with me texting you.”

“And what’s that?”

“Well, I kind of have a hard time spelling things out sometimes, and the correction thing on my phone helps a lot, but, sometimes Annie says my texts make ‘zero sense,’ which is maybe even part of the reason Jim hardly ever answered me back. And when it comes to me
getting
texts, sometimes I can barely even read Annie’s, even though she’s a perfect spelling and writing person. So, when it comes to texts, I might send you a lot of picture symbols sometimes, and you can answer back with picture symbols. You can even just send me picture symbols of whatever you’re doing sometimes, if you just want to tell me what you’re doing that way. And that way, I won’t have to try to read.”

“Don’t you want to try to get better at it?”

Jen shrugged, breaking her remaining half a muffin into tiny little pieces on her plate. “Reading is kind of boring for me sometimes, so boring that sometimes I can hardly even do it, and it stresses me out. It’s really not all my fault, though. My mom drank a lot while she was pregnant with me, and she also shook me a lot while I was a baby. Straight-up scrambled my brains. And that’s why I can’t read.”

Annie, who’d been unpacking some books on the shelf that divided the living room from the kitchen, out of view from Jen but not me, now rose from a crouch behind the shelf. “Um, I should point out that the story Jen just told you, Avery, isn’t exactly true. The real story is that our mother was a neuroscientist who had exactly one drink a year, a glass of champagne on New Year’s Eve. And although she was certainly a bit cold, and probably not the most ideal mother that ever lived, she was not a baby-shaker. The reason that Jen can barely read is because she’s always refused to try to learn.”

Having turned in her chair to look, Jen gave Annie a little glare. “Why don’t you just go boss the movers around some more or something? This is a private discussion between two best friends.”

With a sigh and a faint eye roll, Annie began striding across the living room to the front door, where one of the movers was bringing in another box.

A little pink-faced, Jen turned back around in her chair. “Anyway. Well, look. I’m sorry I said a fib to you, because I know best friends shouldn’t fib to each other, but I just feel kind of dumb sometimes about my reading.”

“Well, it’s okay that you fibbed, but to make up for it, will you promise to let me try to help you with your reading. I’d really like to, and I think it might be a fun best friend activity.”

“‘Fun?’”

“Well, we’ll make it as fun as we can. I promise. So, what do you say?”

“I guess I say yes. As long as I can help you do your makeup for your date with Jim tonight.”

I smiled, thinking that was more than a fair trade. “Deal.”

The rest of the morning and afternoon went by in a flurry of unpacking activity. After the movers left, Annie and Jen stayed to help, and even Marbles helped, giving the three of us a little encouraging woof every now and again. He’d wandered into the cabin sometime when the movers had had the door propped open, and I didn’t mind at all. I loved dogs, and missed them, because after having had a few as a kid and a teen, I hadn’t been able to have a dog because of living in dorms in college, and then various rental properties afterward.

A bit before seven, I was completely unpacked, and Annie and Jen left to go home, shower, and get ready for the party. I hopped in the shower, too, then dressed in jeans and a semi-dressy top, the same style of clothes that Annie and Jen were going to wear. I’d asked them both what look I should be going for, and Annie had said that parties in Timberline were never very formal, especially since this one was going to be a pizza party.

Around seven-thirty, Jen returned to my cabin and helped me apply a little makeup, first selecting a coppery bronzer to give my fair skin a little glow. This she applied with a light hand, an almost surprisingly light hand, I thought for some reason; and with a tiny brush, she applied a rose-colored lip stain to my mouth with a light hand, as well. It wasn’t until she got to my eyes that things began to get a little out of hand. After applying fairly heavy strokes of smoky gray eyeliner to my upper and lower lids, she began brushing on what felt like an awful lot of shimmery gray eyeshadow. And a quick look in the mirror told me that what I’d felt had been correct.

Telling her that she’d done a great job, but that I preferred a look a little less smoky, I began removing a bit of the eye makeup with a cotton ball. “Overall, though, you did amazingly. You do really have a talent for makeup, especially for lips and all-over color.”

I finished with the cotton ball and looked up just in time to see Jen, who was standing next to me in front of the bathroom mirror, finish drawing a large heart on her left cheek with gray eyeliner.

Catching my eyes in the mirror, she grinned. “What do you think people would think if I just showed up to the party like this. Just like, ‘
Yo
.’” She drew out the
o
in
yo
for at least five seconds. “Just like, ‘I got a heart on my cheek. Got a problem with it?’”

Stifling laughter, I handed her a cotton ball. “I don’t know if anyone would have an outright problem with it, but maybe we should go for a lighter look, just in case.”

Just then, a knock sounded on the front door, and Jen all but flew out of the bathroom. “Just finish doing your hair! Just finish getting ready! I’ll talk to Jim until you’re all set.”

With butterflies suddenly rioting in my stomach for some reason, I hastily began running a brush through my blow-dried hair, determined to enjoy the evening, but at the same time, determined not to let Jim get too close. 
         

CHAPTER SIX

My resolution to not let Jim get too close was tested the very moment I entered the living room and saw him sitting on the couch next to Jen, who was very animatedly telling him something funny that Marbles had done that day. With one booted foot resting on one knee, Jim was dressed in his usual uniform of jeans and a t-shirt, but there was something different about him. His dark jeans weren’t battered like the ones he’d been wearing the two times I’d seen him previously, and his navy blue t-shirt didn’t bear even the faintest trace of dirt, nor did his boots. Also, his thick, longish, tousled hair looked like it was slightly damp, like he’d very recently taken a shower. He was clean-shaven, too, all traces of stubble gone.

I had a feeling I was seeing Jim’s not-on-patrol-so-I’m-a-little-cleaner-and-dressed-up look, and I liked it. I loved it, actually. Which wasn’t to say that I
didn’t
love his slightly more rugged on-patrol look, but this date look was one I knew I could definitely get used to as well.

My first impulse was to want him to take me in his arms so I could see if his woodsy, masculine scent was any different when he was just out of the shower. I knew I couldn’t let this happen, though. Even if he did try to take me in his arms at some point during the evening, I’d have to resist. Either that or possibly lose my sanity, because I had a feeling that once I was in his arms, it would feel so good that it would be a mind-bending, agonizing struggle to get
out
of his arms. And I just didn’t need to have that kind of struggle with a man who was insistent on making me do something I didn’t want to do.

When Jim and Jen saw me, Jen stopped in her story mid-sentence, and Jim slowly rose from the couch with his eyes widening slightly.

“You look... absolutely beautiful, Avery.”

With a rush of heat warming my cheeks, I realized that up until now, he
had
only seen me in a sweatshirt or pajamas, and with no makeup or blown-out hair. Even though, according to what Jen had said, he’d thought I was beautiful even then.

For some reason, with my face continuing to warm, I struggled to maintain eye contact with Jim while I responded. “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

I hadn’t meant to say what I had, beyond
thank you
, but it had just kind of came out. I was rewarded, or penalized maybe, with Jim giving me a half-grin so devastatingly sexy that it turned my insides to jelly.

“Well, thank you, Miss Clark.”

I normally liked hearing Jim say my first name, but when he addressed me as
Miss Clark
, it took it to a whole new level for some reason, a level that made me want to do nothing else other than kiss him, and be kissed
by
him.

Before I could melt any further, Jen bounced up from the couch. “Well, it’s time for me to hop on out of here and let you two guys enjoy your date. See you two at the party.”

I said okay, and Jen began heading across the living room to the front door, but then she paused and did something that stunned me and instantly made my warm face positively flame.

Seeming to be acting on a random thought she’d just had, she grabbed my hand, kind of pulled me a few feet toward Jim, and then covered my hand with one of his. “Here. Now you guys can hold hands on your way to the party, just like this.”

Not seeming ruffled in the least, Jim wrapped his fingers around my hand with another sexy half-grin. “Works for me.”

His hand was firm and warm, the feel of his skin against mine making me slightly lightheaded.

Jen beamed. “Great. I think that was a good move I just did. It just kind of came to me. ‘I should make sure they hold hands on the way to the party,’ I thought. And just think, guys, without me, you might have never done it. I feel like I’m being a pretty good dating-director-person tonight. Which is pretty good for someone who’s never even been on a date. I’ve had a lot of fancy dinner party things with Marbles, though, and we both dress up and all that. He has his own collection of ties, and dress socks, and stuff. Makes him feel good to get all snazzed up every now and again. Anyway, I’m gonna go put one of his ties on him right now, and I’m also gonna grab some pop for the party. See you both there, guys. And don’t be too long. Avery, Jim got a bunch of pizzas from Ridgewood, and they’re probably all getting cold already. I guess it’s fine, though, if you guys want to take a second to have a kiss here, before you leave. Really, just make it a second, though. I need someone to save me some of the ham-and-pineapple pizza, okay?”

Though the feel of Jim’s hand on mine was jumbling my thoughts more than a bit, I somehow managed to move my head in a weak nod and speak. “Okay. We’ll be sure to save you some ham-and-pineapple pizza.”

Jen grinned. “Great. Thanks, and see you guys there!”

With that, Jen bounded across the living room and bounced out the door, leaving Jim and me alone.

Immediately, he gave my hand a little squeeze, eyes twinkling. “Well, what do you say? Should we waste ‘a second’ on a kiss before we go?”

My brain was screaming that we should waste more than a second. My brain was screaming that we should waste at least ten minutes, and then see what happened after that. I was even hearing a little faint screaming that maybe it would be fine if we never made the party at all.

But, in the end, the rational part of my brain was able to scream louder than the other part, which seemed to be driven by pure lust.

With light perspiration breaking out across my forehead, I tried to keep my gaze on Jim’s eyes, and not his full-sensual lips, while I responded. “I think that, um... well...” Suddenly having a bit of difficulty maintaining focus and speaking, I cleared my throat. “Like Jen said, we should get to the party before the pizza gets cold. And also to... well, to do whatever it was that she wanted us to do for her.”

I couldn’t even remember.

Jim lifted his mouth in a slow grin. “I think she wanted us to save her some ham-and-pineapple pizza.”

“Right. So... we should probably get there to do that. We probably shouldn’t even waste a second.”

Jim was looking deeply into my eyes, and I was becoming terrified that he was going to go ahead and waste a second and kiss me anyway. I was becoming terrified and yet somehow wildly hopeful at the same time. And it was the
wildly hopeful
that I didn’t like.

So, before he could waste a second and bring his mouth to mine, I cleared my throat again and began pulling him toward the door by our clasped hands. “I guess we should really get going. People are probably hogging all the ham-and-pineapple pizza even as we speak.”

I felt a profound sense of relief once we got outside the cabin and into the spring-scented air that had been brought about by the unusually warm late March day. It was air that held a hint of warm earth and green shoots, and I breathed it in deeply, feeling as if I’d been a bit oxygen-deprived since the moment I’d seen Jim in my living room.

We began strolling up the lane, toward wherever the bar/restaurant/community center/party place was located, and I realized that for the second time, I was only going to get to see Timberline in the dark. Because of unpacking, Jen, Annie, and I hadn’t even left the cabin all day.

My second evening tour of the village wasn’t to last long, however. Heading north, we passed a few cabins, silently still holding hands, then Jim gestured to something that appeared to be a large building just a fairly short distance away, half-shielded by tall trees.

“Just beyond the last of the cabins, that’s our community bar, restaurant, and hang out-type place. It’s where a lot of us go for a cold beer after training exercises, or to celebrate each time we’re able to successfully push back the Angels and take a few of them out. And since they tend to attack us and break through our defenses on a pretty regular basis—every couple of weeks, at
least
—well, we tend to have celebrations here in Timberline pretty frequently.”

“And have you ever
not
been successful in holding the Angels back?”

I was sure none of them had ever gotten as far as Ridgewood at any time, and I was hoping they’d never even gotten as far as Timberline. Being that I knew I’d never be any good at fighting them off, I hoped I’d never have to come face-to-face with any of them.

To my relief, Jim shook his head. “No. No Angel has ever broken past our line of defense. Not one time, ever, even though they try, and try, and try. And as long as I’m alive and breathing, they never will. If I allowed that to happen, if I allowed them to get past us and head south into the rest of the state, there might not be any turning back. Then, all the cities in the state, or at least many of them, would fall to the Angels, and become one of their sovereign city-states of sorts, like what’s happened in Chicago. People would have to flee... numerous lives would be lost...” Pausing, Jim gave his head a quick shake. “No. No Angel has ever broken past our defenses, and it’s my job to make sure they never do. Right now, they have their stronghold in the northernmost tip of the state, which they claimed when they were chased out of Canada, and they’re holding on to that little stronghold, which is fine, but they will never get past us. To the west and east, we have a line of shifters—thousands of them—basically holding a permanent line of defense, a line that pushes the Angels to us here in Timberline, to us strongest shifters and all you Gifteds.”

“But, how long can everyone sustain that? Wouldn’t it just be easier to attack the Angels in their stronghold and kill them all at once?”

Jim shook his head. “That’s impossible for two reasons. Reason one is that before he died, Alistair Jordan, the former leader of the Angels, who set the whole Takeover in motion, was able to cast some sort of a spell or enchantment around the northernmost tip of the state, and this spell didn’t break even when he died. And now, no non-Angel can break through to that last maybe mile-long stretch of land. It’s as if there’s an enchanted wall keeping us out, and it may never be broken, even once the last Angel on earth is dead, whenever that may be. The second reason we can never directly attack the Angels, even were there no mystical wall keeping us out, is that they have women and children with them. Not many, it doesn’t seem as if many of the sorcerers were married before the Takeover, but enough women and children that it would be hard to avoid sustaining casualties in the crossfire of a battle, something we’d obviously never want to do. So, we just hold the line here in Timberline, trying to kill as many Angels as possible each time they attack, while trying to keep everyone in the state safe. And as far as your first question, we can and will sustain our defense of Michigan as long as we need to, until, over time, every last Angel to the north dies in trying to attack us. Though even then, I have a feeling that more will replace them. I think us shifters and Gifteds are always going to be needed in Timberline.”

We’d reached the bar, which was a large, single-story log cabin-type structure with a wide front porch already filled with party-goers. As Jim and I approached, there had been sounds of loud talking and laughing, but now that we’d come to a stop maybe twenty feet from the porch, just close enough that people could see us in the glow of a floodlight near the roof, all the noise had kind of died down. Now the only sound was primarily music coming from inside the bar.

Jim gave my hand a squeeze. “Ready to go meet everyone?”

I nodded. I was at least ready to not talk about the Angels anymore, because I was ready to stop thinking about how, in the future, Jim was surely going to try to coax me into using my power against them.

Once we’d ascended the three stairs and stepped out onto the wood-planked porch, the twenty or so party-goers seemed to find their voices again, some of them resuming their conversations, and some of them greeting Jim and me. Jim introduced me to several of them, and I noticed that it was true what people said about shifters. They were all very attractive men. None of them came close to Jim’s looks, though, at least not to me.

Several of the Gifteds I was introduced to were also very attractive, but a few of them leaned more toward the average side of looks, which I was glad about. I’d never been incredibly insecure or anything about my own looks, yet I knew it would be easy to become that way in a village filled with all supermodel-looking women.

All the Gifteds I met were fairly warm and friendly to me, though I couldn’t help but notice some of them blatantly looking at my hand, which was still being held by Jim’s. Though even still, I didn’t take this as rudeness, just undisguised curiosity.

Once inside the bar, which was pretty much just a massive cabin with an open floor plan and a dozen or so tables and a bar with stools, Jim and I, and specifically, our clasped hands, received more looks of undisguised curiosity. I’d had to let go of his hand in order to shake hands with some of the people out on the porch, but on our way inside, he’d taken my hand again.

After several moments, once everyone in the dimly-lit bar had seemed to get over their initial shock, Jim and I were kind of mobbed, as if we were celebrities or something. More people than I could count introduced themselves to me and welcomed me to Timberline, and I shook numerous hands. But after each time, Jim just took my hand again, as if he was really enjoying the experience of holding my hand and didn’t want it to end.