Gray Back Bad Bear (Gray Back Bears Book 1) (3 page)

Jumping, he said, “Shit. Why are you hiding behind the dumpster?”

In bafflement, she frowned at the smelly blue metal canister beside her. “I’m not hiding. I was just coming back from the bathroom.”

“Oh.” Matt was nodding like a bobble-head.

“And besides, you’re a shifter. Aren’t you supposed to have extra-sensitive hearing and night vision or something?”

“Yeah, but I was distracted.”

She walked past him, her flip flops clacking with every step.

“Your pajamas don’t look stupid,” he muttered.

She looked down at her flannel shorts and white tank top she was pretty sure was too see-through for mixed company. But since Matt was obviously not interested in her nipples, she didn’t try to cover herself up. “Thank you, I think.”

“I want to sleep with you.”

“That offer has passed, Romeo. I no longer feel like the sexpot I did half an hour ago.”

“No, I mean I want to lie beside you until you go to sleep.”

She narrowed her eyes, confused. “Like a friendship cuddle?”

“Yes! Exactly that. Friendship sleeping. I’ve never done that shit before, sooo…”

“You’ve never slept beside a girl? What about all the girls you’ve diddled? And don’t give me some bullshit like ‘I’ve only been with two’ because you and I both know you’re a man-ho.”

“I haven’t ever just slept with a girl. If you accept my offer, you would be my first. Nerd.”

She exhaled dramatically and gestured to the door. “Welcome to my humble abode. If the camper’s a rockin’, please come a knockin’. It means I’m choking or something and not actually having sex.”

Matt’s shoulders jerked with laughter, and he shook his head as he’d done a hundred times tonight. He seemed just as baffled as she was that he was back here again.

“Go on,” he murmured in a deep, gravelly tenor. “I only have an hour before I have to head back to my place.” He frowned down at a phone as he set an alarm, and then followed her distractedly up the stairs.

The bed creaked under his weight as he settled onto it, over the covers. Plucking her glasses from her face, he sighed and set them on the counter beside the bed. He lay down behind her, rigid as a mountain until she pulled his hand over her hips and cuddled back against him.

“Relax, Griz. I won’t try to molest you anymore.”

Matt’s muscles softened, and he curled around her, spooning her like a pro. She smiled at the nylon wall and sighed as her eyes drooped with heaviness. There was a big old, scary-eyed grizzly shifter snuggling her, and she didn’t feel anything but safe. That was kind of funny.

And just as she drifted off, Matt whispered, “You aren’t what I expected.”

Willa gasped and sat straight up. Sweat trickled down between her boobs, and she ran the back of her hand across the moisture on her forehead. What a dream. She’d been running through the woods from something big and always in the shadows, but she’d never seen its face. She’d only known it was horrifying.

The long rattle of a locust sounded from outside as Willa looked around. Had Matt really slept beside her? Perhaps not. She’d probably tossed all the covers at some point when she was running in her sleep from the dream monster, so there was no proof Matt’s giant frame had ruffled the comforter behind her. And he hadn’t left a single trace of proof he’d been there. Oh, wait. There was a folded piece of paper on the tiny kitchen table on the other side of the camper.

Willa tried to free her legs from the comforter, failed, and flopped onto the floor, but the future bruising didn’t deter her from scrambling up and bolting for the note.

You snore.

Here is a list of touristy shit to do around town.

Microbrewery competition

Hot Pool

Art Gallery

Saloon

Here are directions for tonight. 6 p.m. be there or be square, Nerd. Bring an overnight bag in case you beg me to spoon again.

Underneath there was a hand drawn map and step-by-step directions to get to Bear Trap Falls.

She hadn’t begged him to spoon, and she didn’t snore. Did she?

She unfolded the last lip of paper at the bottom.

P.S. You don’t really snore.

“Brat,” she murmured through a grin.

Aw, Matt was like her own little personal werebear concierge, giving her a list of ways to enjoy her vacation. Screw the bombshells. She was going to make a fun trip of this without them.

****

Matt checked his watch for the hundredth time and muttered a curse that it was only three minutes past the last time he’d checked.

What was wrong with him?

“Get your head out of your ass and get back to work,” Creed barked out from the top of the landing. His alpha was all riled up and pissed off about something, but hell if Matt knew what. Above him, Creed’s dark eyes narrowed, and he spat before he jerked his chin toward the skyline hooks that dangled on the hill between them.

Matt couldn’t even pop off like he usually did when Creed was being an asshole because this time his alpha was right. He’d been distracted all day. And working distracted on a jobsite like this would get him or one of the other Gray Backs hurt. Or worse.

He had to stop thinking about Willa. She was just his nerdy little sidekick friend who was going to point him in the right direction to which one of her friends he should bang first.

But that kiss last night against the camper…

Sheeyit.

A five-foot-nothing, smart-mouthed, pissed-off, lightweight, four-eyed geek was giving him a monster boner, and she wasn’t even here.

Maybe he should stand her up.

His bear snarled inside of him, and the sound rumbled up his throat before he could stop it. Easton was up on a log tying a thick wire cord around the middle, but he turned his blazing green eyes on Matt the second the first rattle of his growl sounded. Double shit. Easton was crazy. Rule number one around a crazy grizzly shifter: Don’t growl.

“Easton,” he said low, hands up as he backed down the side of the hill slowly. “It wasn’t a challenge.”

“You growling at me, Gray Back?”

“Okay, technically you’re a Gray Back, too, so that insult doesn’t even make sense.”

Matt crouched down as a massive silver grizzly exploded from Easton. Easton? His momma should’ve named him Beaston. Well, fuck it then. Matt hadn’t had a good fight in at least twenty-eight hours, and this was an acceptable distraction away from his lady problems, so okay.

Matt closed his eyes and let the animal have his body. A snarling, ravaging bear burst from him as his skin burned from the ripping Change. Easton, the man, might be crazy, but he was no match for a bear like Matt’s. Matt’s animal had been forged from agony, taunted and tortured by IESA until the fear switch had been flipped off.

Matt’s bear was a monster, and Easton was about to get some new scars.

He shook off the last of his ripped clothes as Eason charged down the hillside toward him. Matt caught the full force of him in the chest and latched onto his neck, sinking his long canines into his scruff until he tasted warm iron.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Creed yelled from the ridge above. “Again?”

Hell yeah,
again
. He and Beaston hadn’t managed to establish who was more dominant yet. Second in the crew should’ve been worked out long before now, but for whatever reason, they were locked in this constant battle.

Matt’s footing slipped on the piles of felled lumber as he and Easton bit and clawed each other until their fur was matted with crimson. Stupid mother fucker didn’t know when he was beat, and now part of his ear was torn and hanging off. This right here was why their bears couldn’t figure out who was second to Creed. Beaston would fight to the death if Matt allowed their dominance battles to go on too long. He’d fight back until he was unconscious and bleeding out, and then wake up and be ready to redo the fight again the next day as though he hadn’t lost.

Not that Matt was complaining. He loved this shit.

Matt raked a claw down Easton’s back, but roared in pain when the other grizzly sank his teeth into his leg. Pulling, ripping, snarling, Easton pushed them both off balance with his powerful hind legs, and they fell onto a pile of loose lumber. Aw, hell.

Logs slipped and rolled alongside of them as they fought, locked up. Above them, Jason and Clinton were yelling something Matt couldn’t understand. Pain blasted through him as a log landed on top of him and bounced down the mountainside. They were picking up speed, but Easton didn’t seem interested in saving his own ass. He was still focused on maiming Matt. Attention torn between defending himself and making sure he and Easton survived the lumber avalanche, Matt twisted out of the way of another falling log, but got clocked on the neck by the next. On and on they slid, hitting tree stumps and brush, faster and faster. Pain, burning, agony, the
snap snap
of breaking bones. Fuckin’ Beaston.

Matt swung around in time to see the lone standing pine at the bottom of the hill, but it was too late to maneuver away. Using all his strength, he kicked Easton clear and slammed into the trunk. His vision crumpled inward, and sparks shot around the edges as he curled in on himself to ease the pain.

When he opened his eyes, Creed was barreling down on them, massive grizzly body black as pitch and demon eyes to match. Dammit all, this was going to hurt.

Matt winced as Creed reached him, but his alpha leapt over his crumpled body and slammed into Easton, who was charging again. The snarling battle roars echoed off the trees, but Creed had this one. He hadn’t won alpha from being a pussy. That bear could brawl. Matt would’ve huffed a bear laugh if he didn’t feel like his bones had been ground to dust. Jason and Clinton were on him now, but were they concerned for the pain he was in? No. They were laughing. And pointing. And now Jason was wheezing and clutching his knees because he found this all so goddamned funny. If Matt wasn’t pretty sure his front leg was broken, he would have given them both a bear claw slap, but right now, his paw in question was bent at an odd angle and he felt like he’d taken a swan dive into a bathtub of hunting knives.

Creed was human again. His big dick he was always bragging about swung around as he jammed a finger at Jason and Clinton and raged. “This shit right here is why we don’t hold a candle to the Ashe Crew’s numbers! No wonder Damon Daye doesn’t challenge us anymore. He expects nothing from us because all we do is fail him. Are you proud of that? Are you proud of sucking?”

“Kind of,” Clinton said, his gray eyes dancing.

Creed reared back as if he’d been slapped. “Matt, Change back.” The hard tone cracked with power and forced his immediate transformation. Alpha’s orders could be brutal sometimes.

The roar of pain in Matt’s throat turned into a scream as he shrank back into his human skin.

Creed grabbed Clinton by the back of the neck and shoved him toward Matt. “You think it’s so fuckin’ funny? You set his bones back.”

“Are you serious?” Clinton bellowed as their alpha stomped back up the lumber littered hillside.

The dark-haired alpha shot him a glare over his shoulder. “As a fuckin’ snake bite.”

They were all quiet until Creed was out of earshot, and then Jason said softly, “Some snakes aren’t poisonous.”

Matt groaned and wanted to kill them all.

“His bones, Clinton!” Creed yelled from midway up the hill. “Before they heal crooked.”

“Fine,” Clinton muttered. “Easton, Change back. You’re half dead and the fight’s over.”

Matt couldn’t see him from here, but Easton still smelled like a full-on grizzly and was growling softly in his throat.

None too gently, Clinton grabbed Matt’s arm and started feeling around his broken wrist. Searing pain sparked across his nerve endings, but Matt gritted his teeth against the urge to yell out. The guys wouldn’t have any sympathy, and besides, he’d had much, much worse in the Menagerie.

Still, bone setting was the least fun part of this life.

Matt loved the quick healing and the sex drive that came with being a shifter. He loved his strength and stamina, and hell, he even loved to Change. But bones had to be set before they healed improperly. Before muscles repaired themselves too quickly and had to be ripped up again to make sure bones fused back together like they should. He and the boys were all pros at bone-setting. Why? Because they broke them all the damned time.

Being a Gray Back was hell on the body.

Matt had enjoyed the fight to forget about Willa, but now, as Clinton snapped his splintered bones back into place, he thought of her to escape the pain.

Saratoga’s small town charm was growing on her. Willa smiled as she thought about the pottery shop owner who had shook her hand and talked to her as if they’d known each other for years. Here, everyone smiled at everyone, whether they were a tourist or a townie.

She tossed a look at the little brown bag sitting in her passenger seat and sighed. Matt would probably hate the gift, but that wasn’t going to stop her from giving it to him. She’d spent the day at the brewery festival tasting tiny samples of beer, then window shopped in the downtown district before downing a personal mushroom pie from a local pizzeria that one of the nice brewers she’d met had told her she had to try. And then she’d wandered into a paint-your-own pottery place out of curiosity and bought a piece someone had left behind. Probably on account of its hideousness, but it was on the clearance table and reminded her of Matt. Not because it was ugly. Matt was extremely not ugly, but it was a mug with a handle shaped like a jumping salmon. And bears ate salmon. At least that’s what she read in a pamphlet from the visitor’s center about the sparse wild bear population around the area. She thought it was more a trout region, but the pamphlet had listed salmon as a grizzly’s favorite food. With that knowledge in mind, she’d purchased the ugly mug from the pottery shop, two salmons from the grocery store, and thrown the smellier of her gifts into a cheap cooler packed with ice.

She was the best friend in the world. Suck it, bombshells, for not realizing her friendship potential.

Lodgepole pines lined the roads and filled the forest so thickly, she could barely see any brush on the wilderness floor. She drove curving roads edged with green and brown. Some of the trees were dead. A lot of them, in fact, but that had been explained in the pamphlet, too. Some kind of beetle infestation was taking over the forest here.

“Okay,” she drawled out, pressing the map Matt had drawn against the steering wheel so she didn’t have to take her attention away from the road to read the directions. A right turn here where the road was washed out to a well-worn dirt track, another mile winding through the trees that followed the tire marks, and then she was there. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked through the woods. Lush green gave way to a river. Even from inside the Tacoma with the air conditioner turned up, the babbling water was loud and beautiful.

She stepped out of her truck and pulled the backpack she’d brought over her shoulders. Shoving her glasses up her nose better, she hiked through the trees until she reached the water’s edge. Matt had been right. This was sort of a beach, complete with pebbles that led to sand under lapping waves. The difference was the fresh water, the lack of brine scent in the air, and the bright greenery that lined the river on both sides. And no sharks. She could hear the waterfall, but she couldn’t see it yet, so she hooked her thumbs through her backpack straps and tromped up an incline.

When she got to the top of the small hill, she locked her legs and halted.

Matt was sitting on the shore, water lapping at his toes as he scooped handfuls of waves onto a burgundy stain down his side.

She was early by a half hour, and she hadn’t expected him to be here yet. And she especially didn’t expect him to be bathing what looked like copious amounts of blood from his torso. She backed up a foot, but a twig snapped under her flip flop.

Matt jerked his gaze to her. His eyes were churning silver, like mercury, and his face was bruised. He stood in a blur. “It’s mine.”

“What is?” she asked more high-pitched than she’d intended.

“The blood.”

Oh. Well that made it better. “What the hell happened?” she asked, approaching slowly.

Matt scrubbed a hand down his face and shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Bear shit?”

Narrowing his eyes, he huffed a sigh. “Yeah, bear shit.”

She brushed her hand under a long gash across his rib cage, half-healed already. “Do you repair yourself fast?”

“Yeah. Give me an hour, and I’ll look normal again. You’re early.”

“Were you hoping I wouldn’t see you looking like a murder victim?”

“Ha.” Matt’s single laugh echoed across the river, and a smile brightened his somber face. “Kind of.”

“Well, mission not accomplished. You look like shit.”

Matt bent at the waist and scooped water over his forearm. It was then she noticed his skin. Crisscrossed in hundreds of long scars. His entire back was striped like a tiger.

“Matt,” she said on a breath. Pulling his arm, she studied the marred skin across his ribs, then when he stood back up, over his stomach.

His face went hard as she studied him in horror. “I was going to put a shirt on to swim,” he muttered as he crossed his arms over his chest, but that only exposed the scars across his six-pack abs. Pink and silver, each a different length and age from what she could tell.

“What happened to you?”

His eyes looked a hundred years old as he angled his head. “Nothing.”

“More bear shit?”

He dipped his chin once.

Anger slashed through her, but it wasn’t at Matt. It was at whoever had done this awful thing to him. Shrugging out of her backpack and tossing it on the ground, she said, “Falling off my bike, age seven.” When he gave her a confused glare, she pointed to the crescent moon shaped scar on her right knee. “It was pretty awful.”

Matt cracked a grin, and she could almost feel the relief roll off his shoulders. He didn’t want to talk about what happened, and honestly, she didn’t know if she was ready to hear what had ruined his skin like this. Already, she could feel tears forming and her throat thickening. She yanked her gaze to her discarded backpack so he wouldn’t see how affected she was.

“What about this one?” he asked, gripping her arm and pressing his thumb against the scar on her elbow.

“Ha! You’ll love this story. I was at band camp—”

“Of course you were at band camp—”

“Hush. I was at camp, and I was going head to head with Jenny Nador, who was such a bitch and always got first chair. I’d been trying for two years to get first chair just once. So we were up on this stage, and I was playing my ass off—”

“Wait, playing what instrument?”

“The flute, naturally. I am also a badass on the piccolo. Stop laughing. So I’m up on the stage with my marching band, and my instructor has this smile while I’m playing like hell-yeah-she’s-making-a-run, and I know I’ve got this. I’m going to finally beat Jenny Nador, and I already have my victory dance all planned out. I turn to shoot Stupid Jenny Nador a triumphant grin as I hit the last part of my solo—”

“Your flute solo—”

“Yeah, contain your boner. So then when I turned, the back leg of my chair slipped off the riser I was sitting on, and I fell backward, then out of my seat, then off the stage where I broke my arm in two places.”

Matt let off a booming laugh and doubled over.

“I’m glad my pain amuses you.”

“Holy shit,” he crowed. “Please tell me your instructor gave you first chair after that.”

“Third. I didn’t finish the song, and then the ambulance came to get me and I didn’t get to go back to band camp. I was heartbroken, naturally.”

“You’re the clumsiest human I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah, well…you’re the bloodiest bear-man I’ve ever met. Let’s wash you off before I get queasy.”

“Hmm,” he said, lifting his chin. “I don’t imagine you’re afraid of much, Nerd.”

“That’s completely untrue. Wasps. Clowns. Open closet doors at night. Choking on a hot dog. Tight spaces. The dark in general. Stepping on hidden nails on the ground. Big dogs. Beavers, badgers, sharks, deep water, quicksand, the ridges in pickle slices, being ax murdered, dark parking lots, snakes coming out of the toilet, touching germy door handles after washing my hands in public restrooms—”

“Okay, I take it back. You’re afraid of everything. Let’s get you over one of them, though.”

“Bears?” she asked hopefully, folding her glasses carefully and setting them on her backpack. She wanted to see his animal.

“No. Deep water.”

“Oh, I’m not a strong swimmer.”

“But you can swim, right?”

“I can bob.”

“Well, why did you want to go to the beach then? It’s a helluva lot more dangerous than a shallow river.”

“I didn’t want to go to the coast to swim in thirty feet of water, Griz. I wanted to lay out on the sand and drink pina coladas with tiny umbrellas and feel fancy. And go hunt for seashells and dig up some clams, and fish off a pier, and eat really good seafood. The bombshells had other plans, though. Speaking of…since you denied my virgin cookies last night, which one of my friends are you going to bone first?” Jealousy unfurled in her belly as she thought of Matt kissing Brittney. She didn’t know why she’d just said that, and now she was fighting some epic heat in her cheeks, so she busied herself with taking off her thin cotton cover-up.

But when she looked back at Matt, his eyes were zeroed in on her yellow and white tankini.

“I told you it was hideous,” she groused, embarrassed. “Stop staring at me like I’m awful. I’m already self-conscious about being in a swimsuit.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be.” Matt’s voice had gone husky. “Take those board shorts off though. You don’t need them.”

Mouth hanging open, she looked down at her swim shorts that were two sizes too big. They made her feel skinny. “But…my thighs are—”

“I swear to God if you say
big
, I’m going to dunk you in the river. Take ’em off, Nerd.” Matt turned and splashed into the waves, headed toward the waterfall. “Ain’t no one out here to see you but me, and we’ve already decided to stay friends.”

“Then why do you care if I strip down to my bathing suit? Hmm?”

Matt kept dragging his legs deeper and deeper into the water away from her and didn’t answer. The ripped muscles in his back flexed with every step, and the perfect curves of his taut ass were now nestled in the wet navy blue swim trunks that clung to his body. Holy Toledo, he was the brawniest man she’d ever been with. Err…been friends with. Another wave of confusion filled her. She had to keep her head around this man. He saw her as some amusing little buddy, and nothing more. Last night, she’d thrown herself at him, and he hadn’t taken the bait. She was more of a sleep-beside than sleep-with kind of conquest, and she needed to start learning her place with him now.

It didn’t matter that she was harboring a teeny—miniscule really—crush on the mysterious, scarred-up bear shifter. He didn’t feel the same.

Just friends. She could do this.

Willa peeled her board shorts off, grateful she’d shaved her legs past her knees today, and double grateful for the hoohah waxing she’d let some lady in a salon do before she drove to Saratoga. She stepped carefully out of her flip flops. Tiptoeing gently, she called, “Are you sure there’s no glass in here? Fear number one hundred eighty-one. Fear of cutting my feet on glass.”

“Stop being a pussy,” Matt called without looking back at her.

“Okay, but that doesn’t really answer my question.” She took another tentative step onto the sandy bottom, and then another.

“Nerd, this isn’t a public beach, and bears take care of their territory. Now come—” Matt shrieked, and his arms flew into the air just before he splashed violently under the waves.

“What’s happening?” Willa screamed, running through the lapping water as fast as she could, adrenaline dumping into her system.

Matt wasn’t breaking the surface to breathe, and the splashing was growing smaller as if he was being dragged under. She had to save him! “Matt!” she screamed, diving into the water. She swam as fast as her arms and legs could carry her, took a huge gulp of air, then submerged to try to grab him. Opening her eyes underwater didn’t help much. She couldn’t see thanks to the falls churning up silt from the bottom, but when her hand clamped on Matt’s arm, he yanked her to him, and she could see him well enough. He was grinning, the pig-headed anus-cake.

She screamed underwater and blew out all the air in her lungs, then swam up to the surface. Gasping oxygen, she kicked hard enough to splash him in the face when he broke the surface. She headed to the shore, fuming at his prank. Not funny at all.

Matt was laughing, and she wanted to claw his sexy, infuriating eyeballs out.

“Nerd. Nerd! Willa! It was a joke, and look, now I know you can swim like a fish. No bobbing.”

“Yeah!” she screeched. “I guess I can swim when I think my friend is
dying
. Congratu-fucking-lations on your epic discovery.”

Matt’s hands latched onto her arm. “I’m sorry. It was a bad joke. I didn’t know you would get so upset. Wait, are you crying?”

She was, in fact, sobbing like a badass. Warm tears streamed down her face. “I thought you were going to die. I’m traumatized now, Matt!”

“Aw, Nerd, were you worried about me?” His voice was flippant, and she imagined he was like that with all the girls he met.

“Don’t,” she gritted out, touching bottom and standing to glare at him. “That little sarcastic attitude probably works with the girls you sleep with, but I’m not them. If something happened to you, it wouldn’t just be a story I’d go back home and tell my friends. It would rip me up, you asshole.”