Gray Back Bad Bear (Gray Back Bears Book 1) (7 page)

Matt sighed miserably. He didn’t want to stress out his friend, his alpha. “Can we see how the boys are around Willa? Let her hang out this week and see if they can treat her right? See if they can control their bears around her? If they can’t, I’ll leave. I’ll move wherever she is and try to make it work.”

“No, Matt,” Creed said in a hoarse voice. “You’re a Gray Back. I don’t want you to go.”

“Then let’s hope the boys are okay with her because I can’t live where she isn’t allowed.”

Creed scratched his head and muttered one last curse. “Okay. We’ll see how the boys are with her.” He pulled to a stop near the landing and leveled him with a look. “I sure hope your mate is strong enough to handle them.”

His alpha got out of the truck and slammed the door behind him. Pain stabbed through Matt just thinking about leaving his life here. Leaving his people.

He too hoped with everything in him that Willa was strong enough to handle the Gray Backs.

When Willa’s phone chirped, she pulled it from her purse and stared down at the screen. She’d just received a text message from
Griz
. Ha. When had Matt put his number in her phone?

I’m sorry if you saw Jason’s dick this morning.

She laughed too loud and the woman next to her at the Hobo Hot Pool jumped. With a glare, she glided farther away through the steaming water.

“Sorry,” Willa murmured.

She had actually seen Jason’s swinging dick this morning when she’d packed up the Tacoma to head into town for the day. He’d stood splay-legged on his porch, hands on his hips and neck arched back like he was enjoying the sunlight on his bare skin. “Lovely day,” he’d said in a conversational tone.

Willa’s eyes had just about bugged out of her head, and she’d nearly choked on the last piece of bacon she’d been chewing on. “What are you doing?” she’d asked, trying to look everywhere but between his legs.

“It’s a morning ritual.”

“All right then. Well, you and your…ritual…have a nice day,” she’d said before she drove off.

Do all werebears have giant dicks?
she typed out, then hit send.

Do you have a problem with nudity? Modesty doesn’t exist with the Gray Backs. Will that make you uncomfortable? Or is it something you think you can handle?

Willa slipped back into the natural hot spring pool and leaned on the edge, staring at her phone. Matt’s question seemed uncharacteristically serious.

Is this a test?
she typed out.

Kind of. Creed said you could hang out at Grayland on a trial basis.

So he lifted the rules? I can stay nights with you while I’m here?

Yeah. Got to go. Lunch break is done. Crawfish boil tonight. Will u come?

What time?

Seven

I’ll see you then

Another text came through.
This morning was fun

A grin cracked her face as she responded.
For me too, you sexy bear. I like your big 8---D

Moments ticked by before Matt’s response made her phone chirp again.
Good, cause I love your (0)

She laughed too loud again, but this time, she didn’t care. Last night wasn’t a one night stand. She’d known in her heart it wasn’t, but her head was still stuck on Matt being a playboy. But he’d gotten his alpha to lift the rules they’d broken last night, and now she was being invited back because of Matt.

Pressure suddenly pushed against her chest and made it hard to breathe. He’d said this was kind of a test. Creed’s test? Matt’s test? It felt important that she make a good impression with his friends. Now more than ever, it became apparent just how much pull Creed had with his crew. He could kick her out of Matt’s life for good.

Crap.

Willa climbed out of the Hobo Hot Pool and tiptoed across the pavement to her bag. Toweling off, she began ticking off the ingredients she’d need from the grocery store.

Mom had always said the way to a man’s heart was through his belly.

Willa had the beginnings of a plan and grandma’s recipe memorized.

She sure hoped Creed liked homemade gumbo with his crawfish.

****

Jason was squatting down by a gargantuan silver pot when Willa pulled into the Grayland Mobile Park. He nodded his chin in greeting, his dark eyes focused on his task at hand, which, at the moment, seemed to be adjusting a propane tank and lighting a burner under the pot.

“Back so soon? You must be aching for some trouble.”

“Or I am the trouble,” she teased, pulling the first paper grocery bag from the back seat.

Jason snorted. “Sounds about right. What do you have there?”

“I’m making gumbo tonight.”

Jason stood. He still didn’t have a shirt on, but at least now he was wearing pants. “From scratch?” The surprise in his voice was borderline offensive.

“Yep.” She hefted another bag to her hip.

“You a Louisiana girl by any chance?”

“I grew up in Minden. How’d you guess?”

“The accent sounded familiar.” Jason thumped his chest. “I’m from just outside of New Orleans. A bayou bear, Turned and raised.”

“Really? Is that why they put you in charge of the crawfish?”

“Ha, no. Your boy is controlling about the crawfish. I’m the potato and onions guy, and sometimes I add the corn if he’s feeling generous.”

“Matt cooks?”

“Matt controls. He can’t help himself. His bear is…well…you know.”

She didn’t know, but maybe Matt should tell her if he had problems with his animal. “You said you were Turned?”

“Yep, right after my twenty-first birthday.”

Willa struggled with full arms to a prep table where Jason had obviously been shucking corn cobs.

“Who Turned you?”

Jason’s smile faded from his lips as he pulled the lid off the pot with what looked like a metal paddle. “My mate.”

“Oh.” Obviously he wasn’t paired up anymore, and his shuttered eyes said he didn’t want to talk about it, so she didn’t push.

They worked in silence after that, but it wasn’t awkward. It was the comfortable kind where they didn’t have to use small talk to fill a void. They worked side-by-side on the prep table, and he even offered to show her how to turn on the brick outdoor stove. And when he’d done that, he jogged into Matt’s trailer and came back with a large boiling pot for her to start making a roux.

Now, she liked to do her roux low and slow, so she was barely done with it by the time Jason said, “Look like you’re workin’. Boss and them boys are headed back, and Creed is in a foul mood today. He just about ripped my ear off through the phone earlier when he told me to get the crawfish.”

“Because of me?”

“Yep.”

“Shit, Jason, you could’ve sugarcoated it a little bit.”

“No sugar around here, trouble. Only spice.”

Minutes later, she heard what must’ve warned Jason of his crew’s imminent arrival. Rumbling trucks and creaky brakes. Nervous flutters filled her stomach thinking about Creed’s anger. She hated being the cause of a rift in the Gray Back Crew.

She scooped her chopped holy trinity—bell peppers, onions, and celery—into the dark roux, and stirred them constantly as the roar of engines grew closer and closer.

Her palms were sweating now, and as much as she wished she could blame it on working around high heat, she was nervous from her hairline to her toes. By the time the two trucks pulled down the main, white gravel road that curved through the trailer park, her hands were shaking something fierce.

A tall man with sandy brown hair and striking green eyes was out of a jacked-up old white Ford first. The slamming door echoed through the mountains. He cast one angry look at her, and she gasped. Blood ran from his ear, down the side of his neck, and he was carrying his arm strangely. It hung limply at his side, and crimson dripped off his middle finger in a constant
pit, pat, pit, pat
.

“What happened?”

The anger in the man’s face faltered. “I’m Easton.” His voice was too gravelly to be completely human, and his eyes were glowing that odd green color.

“I’m Willa. Are you okay?”

He looked down at his arm, then slid a confused look at her. “I’m fine.” Easton turned and strode up a worn trail that led into the thick pine woods.

A traumatized-looking Clinton stepped out of the other side of Easton’s truck. “You sure as hell know how to make an entrance.”

“Wait, I do?” She looked at Matt and Creed, who were getting out of the alpha’s truck more slowly, then back at Clinton. “What do you mean?”

“You spent one night here, and the Gray Backs are already bleeding for you.”

“Okay,” she drawled, a snap of anger blasting through her. “That’s bullshit. Y’all bleed all the time because you won’t stop fighting. Don’t pretend that crap started happening the second I showed up.”

Clinton’s blond brows arched high, and a slow smile split his face. “You aren’t going to take my shit, are you?”

“Not yours. Your alpha’s, though? Yes. Matt told me Creed is the boss man. You’re just a peon like me,” she said to Clinton with a wink.

“Shit, girl, I like you already. What smells good?”

“Gumbo,” she called over her shoulder as she scooped andouille sausage into the pot.

Matt’s hands slid around her middle, and he rested his forehead on her shoulder from behind.

“You hurt?” she asked quietly.

“It’s nothing that won’t heal.”

With a sigh, she turned and tried to control her fear when his eyes were that unexpected blazing silver color.

A soft growl rattled his throat. “Don’t like when you smell scared.”

“Let me see.”

“Willa,” he said with a slow shake of his head.

“Hurry up before I burn my roux.”

Matt slid his inhuman eyes to the steaming pot, then lifted his shirt. Four perfect slices curved around his ribcage, probably created from Easton’s claws. Already, they were half-healed, but the bottom cut, the deepest, was still weeping red, and his white T-shirt looked like a crime scene.

“Geez, Matt,” she murmured. “Does it hurt bad?”

He nodded his chin once. “I need a minute.” He took off toward his trailer with long strides.

“What about the crawfish?” Jason asked. “They’re ready to go in.”

“You do it.”

Jason gave Willa a look that said he was shocked to his bones, and then a slow grin stretched his face. “Well, that’s a first. Maybe having you around to settle his bear won’t be so bad after all.”

Giddy and humming, Jason pulled the bag of live crawfish from the shady patch under the prep table and pulled a knife from his back pocket. Willa added some turkey sausage and chicken stock and kept a constant stir as she watched Jason dump the mud bugs into a holey bucket and run a hose over them.

Creed pulled a plastic chair up next to the stove and handed her an already opened bottle of beer. “You cooking to win my favor?”

“Shit yeah,” she muttered. The swig of cold beer tasted like heaven as it slid down her throat. “You make me nervous.”

“You didn’t look scared of blood when Matt showed you his ribs, so that’s one point in your favor. What all do you know about us?”

“Just what Matt’s told me and what I read on Cora Wright’s Web site. She was the one in charge of helping the Breck Crew come out to the public. She does question and answer forums and has a bunch of frequently asked questions on her site.”

“I know who Cora is. She advised us when we registered to the public, too.”

“Oh, right. Of course. Sorry.”

Creed took a long drink of his beer and stared thoughtfully at Jason, who was dumping a heap of pre-mixed, seasoning into the boiling pot. It was spicy enough to burn her nose from ten feet away.

“You know about claiming?” Creed asked.

The nerves were back, and if she answered him now, her voice would shake. She busied herself with tossing grandma’s secret seasoning ingredients into the gumbo. Finally, after she’d added chicken breast and okra, she answered him. “I do. At least, I think I do. Cora Wright’s—”

“Web site told you.”

“Yeah.” Heat blasted up her neck and into her cheeks as she thought about how she’d asked Matt to bite her. She’d lost her damned mind in the throes of passion with him because she didn’t really want to be Turned into a bear shifter. She was perfectly happy with her human status.

“What are your intentions with Matt?” Creed asked low. “I need to know. Whatever is happening between you puts my crew at risk, and I need to know you feel the same about him as he feels about you.”

“I miss him when he’s away from me. I feel like he gets me like no one ever has, which I realize makes no sense because we haven’t known each other that long. But that doesn’t seem to matter to my silly heart because I feel like I’ve known him all my life. I breathe for his smile, and when he’s hurting, I hurt. And when I touch his scars…” This was too much. She was sharing things with Creed she hadn’t meant to, but he’d asked her a direct question, and it was as if she’d taken some sort of truth serum. Maybe Creed was magic. She believed in it.

“Look,” she said, pulling the spoon from the pot and looking the alpha right in the eyes. “I’m falling in love with him. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, or next week. And as much as I’ve tried to convince myself this is some vacation fling, I know it’s not. Matt feels…important.”

“And you don’t care about all those other women?”

“I wish he hadn’t been with them. I wish I had all of his firsts to myself, but that was in his past, and I trust him. I don’t care about where he’s been. I care about where he’s going.”

Creed huffed a heavy sigh and lifted his beer. He tapped the neck against hers with a soft
clink
, then said, “All right, we’ll try this. You can stay here until my crew proves to me they can’t handle having a woman up here.”