His Bear Hands (Bear Creek Grizzlies Book 1) (2 page)

T
he second electrical
shock really did it. As if Zoe didn't feel bad enough about being in the middle of freaking nowhere in the middle of the night, her fingers hurt as well. Which made typing a real bitch.

She waved away the three burly dudes who tried to drag her away from the junction box. "No, I'm cool. It's almost —"

"Leave it," a deep voice said, and her heart seized up. The biggest dude, like a freaking mountain, appeared close by and his giant hand closed around her elbow to carefully draw her away from the wires. "The wiring around here is old school, you're going to get yourself killed."

"There isn't enough power to —" She leaned enough to flip a switch and the whole box hummed. She laughed in triumph, pulling away from the guy who made her stomach flutter, and checked the router as it re-set. "Awesome. Wifi."

She grinned at the older lady behind the bar, who eyed Zoe as if she were a moderately dangerous animal, and then turned to check the approval of all the dudes. Now they had wifi. They could join civilization. Instead they just looked wary. "See? It's —"

But the big dude with the dark hair and neatly-trimmed beard looked like he had a headache, not even a trace of gratitude on his face. He reached for her arm once more and tugged her away from the wiring and equipment. "Great. I'm sure Rosie appreciates it. It's late, though, and we should get going."

She set her heels, heart in her throat. Tate trusted these guys, and this guy in particular, but that didn't mean Zoe wanted to walk blindly into the dark with him. Not that she really had any other choice. She hadn't seen much of this town when they drove in, since there weren't any street lights, but she'd put dollars to donuts there wasn't even a no-tell motel. "Where?"

"To the lodge." He kept hold of her arm as he knocked his knuckles on the bar and spoke to the bartender. "Thanks, Rosie. We'll settle up next week?"

"Any time, hon." The older woman glanced at Zoe and tilted her head at the router. "Thanks for the wifi, chickie. You need anything, call here and ask for Rosie."

"Th-thanks," Zoe managed to stutter, flailing on the end of the big guy's grip as he picked up her backpack and headed for the door. She tripped over her own feet trying to keep up, a little more nervous as three guys followed them outside, but she didn't take her eyes off the backpack. Her retirement plan, or at least part of it, was in there, bouncing against the mountain's broad back. "You don't live here? In — town?"

The one holding her wrist, Simon, snorted something close to a laugh. "No. We live about an hour north and west of here, so we need to get going."

Zoe wrenched herself free and folded her arms over her chest, standing in a gravel parking lot as she stared at the guy. "You're freaking kidding me. This is barely civilization. Do you live in a tree or something?"

He arched an eyebrow as he looked at her, a familiar exasperated look on his face. She'd seen that look a lot growing up — from teachers, social workers, cops, bosses, her mother when she was sober enough to focus... Even Tate gave her that look sometimes, and it hurt more than she could admit. Zoe hardened her heart. She stood on her own two feet, and this knuckle-dragging neanderthal would not intimidate her into silence.

Simon smiled, though, and ran a hand through his dark hair, setting it all askew. "No, we do not live in a tree. There's a very nice log cabin, we call it the lodge."

Zoe gulped air, trying to reorient the world. Just a couple hours earlier, she was in her cozy apartment, plotting the downfall of Mick Castellano and all of his cronies. And Tate just expected her to live in the woods. Her voice wobbled a bit more than she wanted, but it softened his expression. "Do you — do you have hot water? And electricity? A fridge?"

"No, we eat berries and raw squirrels," one of the other guys said, but he smiled more than Simon. Ethan, she thought they called him.

She didn't dare hope. "Wifi?"

Simon's mouth twitched, as if he wanted to smile but wouldn't, and he held out his hand. "We have Internet, yes. And we even have a kitchen. Ethan only eats raw squirrel because he likes raw squirrel."

"Redneck sushi," Ethan said, jumping into the backseat of a dilapidated Range Rover.

Zoe couldn't quite tell if they were joking. She glanced back at Simon. "I had a suitcase, I don't know where —"

"I got it already," he said, tilting his head at the truck as the other guys loaded up in the back. One leaned against the window and almost immediately began snoring. Simon caught her arm once more, palm warm and rough against her skin, and led Zoe around the car to the passenger side. He opened the door for her and stood behind her until she clambered up. "You can survive a couple of weeks out here, Zoe. You'll be fine."

She shouldn't have believed him, but part of her relaxed to hear the calm certainty in his voice. Simon looked far too capable and strong and intimidating to make false promises, and if Tate knew him from his shady past, then Simon had to be all right. She took a deep breath as she buckled the seat belt, gripping her knees as the giant man meandered around the car and got in the driver's seat. "Thank you."

He focused on starting the car, frowning as the engine chugged but didn't turn over. "You're welcome."

It took a few tries and some well-intentioned but teasing instructions from the two awake guys in the back before the engine roared to life, then Simon turned and drove into the dark town. Zoe gripped the center console and the door for dear life as they bounced out of the gravel parking lot and onto what felt like dirt roads. The Range Rover had to be older than she was, and the shocks worn out several years ago. After a half a mile, though, Simon hit another gear and the ride smoothed out. A chorus of snores from the backseat meant she and Simon were the only ones still awake in the truck. She took a deep breath, more uncomfortable than she could remember in a long time, and tried to think of something to talk about. That's what people did in cars, she thought. Talked. She'd never been very good at interacting with people in the meatspace. Online was so much easier.

As she debated, Simon fussed with the headlights and peered into the darkness beyond the dim lights. "You can sleep, if you're tired. We'll be driving about an hour."

Sleep. Sleep would be a convenient way to avoid conversation. She chewed her lip but her heart raced too fast to even pretend. Zoe gripped the strap of her backpack, just to remind herself it was all real and happening, and tried to find a comfortable position in the seat. She searched for an acceptable topic when the handsome guy driving the truck didn't seem to resent conversation but clearly wasn't the talkative type. "So, um, what do you do?"

He glanced at her, though his expression revealed nothing even in the faint greenish glow of the dashboard, then looked back at the road. "Tate didn't tell you much, did he?"

"No. Just you guys knew each other and you owed him one."

"I did." Simon frowned, slowing the truck to take a steep turn in the road, then sped back up. "We traveled together when we were younger. I ended up out here a couple of years ago. I run a company that offers backcountry hiking, camping, fishing, and hunting trips. We take tourists on vacation."

Zoe blinked. "So you just hang out in the woods? All the time?"

He laughed, a charming little huff that made her even more nervous. "Yeah. All the time."

She bit at her nails, drawing her feet up on the seat in front of her so she could hug her knees. This guy belonged on a reality tv show about camping and hunting and lumberjacks. Seriously. He made her uneasy, but not in a bad, murderer-y way. He was too capable, too efficient. He owned a space, regardless of where that space might be. In the bar, he dominated the room, even when he just sat and talked to Tate. In the car, he owned the car and the entire freaking road and everything they drove through. He was big and handsome and clearly stronger than anyone she'd met in real life, including Tate, because his arms looked bigger around than her thigh. He possessed the kind of calm certainty that made her feel like a nervous, ridiculous kid who flapped into the middle of his world, made a mess, and then bolted for the exit before anything serious could happen.

She sank lower in the seat and couldn't look at him, her cheeks burning. Thank God the darkness hid the embarrassment. He really was too handsome for real life. He was exactly the type of guy she loved, would stalk online, but could never approach. He wouldn't ever be interested in her.

"Tate mentioned some of what you do," he said after the silence stretched and Zoe made no effort to fill it. "After all this blows over, what are your plans?"

Heat flushed her entire face. Great. So he knew she worked for really awful people. "I don't know," she managed to force out, wishing she could pretend to sleep. Even bouncing her head on the window would be better than an awkward conversation with a gorgeous lumberjack. She wondered if his beard was soft or scratchy, and for a second even considered reaching out to check. She sat on her hands instead. "I wanted to — make up for some stuff. Thought I might find a charity to work for or something."

"That would be good." He nodded, still frowning at the road ahead of him. She wondered if he ever smiled, if the wrinkles across his forehead were permanent. Maybe those rugged good looks would crack and disappear if he smiled too much. Made sense. Simon glanced at her. "You balanced out a little bit of karma, at least, by helping Rosie with the wifi at the bar. I know she appreciated it."

Zoe hoped it was worth it; her chest still ached from that second jolt of power. She hadn't expected the wiring to be quite so finicky. Maybe the electric shocks explained the way her heart stuttered around him. It couldn't be Simon himself. "Good."

"That said," he started, and she froze, heart sinking. Adults never started good news with that tone of voice. Simon took a deep breath. "I'd prefer if you didn't touch anything at the lodge. The generators work most of the time and we can't afford to have an outage. I'm sure you could make some improvements, but things are good the way they are."

She bit her thumbnail and stared out her window. Message received. Don't touch anything, don't mess anything up, and she would be out of his life in a matter of weeks. He didn't want or need her screwing things up. "Right. No problem."

"While you're here, we could use help in the kitchen and the garden, maybe with decorating."

"Decorating?" Zoe wrinkled her nose as she looked at him. "What do I know about decorating?"

"I thought..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "Don't women like decorating houses? You can pick out curtains and lamps and stuff."

Zoe laughed, resting her temple on her knees, still drawn up to her chest, and studied his profile. "Uh, no. I can barely match my shoes."

"Noah will be disappointed," he said under his breath. "He wanted you to class the place up a bit."

She made a face and tried a sideways shrug. "I can google the hell out of it. Rustic cabin decor. Country chic. Backcountry cottage."

He snorted, dangerously close to a face-cracking smile, and something in Zoe's chest eased. Maybe he didn't resent her. Maybe the next couple of weeks would be a good distraction instead of a terrifying hell of hiding under her bed without an Internet connection. Her phone hadn't registered a signal for hours.

"Country chic," he said. "That's definitely us," and he gestured over his shoulder at the three bruisers snoring away in the backseat.

Zoe straightened enough to glance back at them, the three guys with their mouths hanging open and limbs all akimbo, then looked back at Simon. "Are you guys related?"

"Not really." He slowed the car again to take a switchback as they started gaining altitude. "I know Ethan from the same place I know Tate, and Cooper and I went to high school together. Finn showed up one summer and never left. And Noah, who's back at the lodge, is a distant cousin. He ran into some trouble and needed a place to lay low for a while. I have a habit of collecting strays." And he sighed.

Zoe felt about as low as possible in the jacked-up truck. Another stray. Another burden for Simon's giant shoulders. Her head rested against the seat and she resigned herself to a long month of trying not to fall in love with him. Since she was only a stray.

S
imon rose with the dawn
, a habit beaten into him by too many years in the military. Life without discipline was dangerous. Sloppy habits led to sloppy decision-making, and sloppy decision-making got people killed. He walked the perimeter of their immediate property, a quick jog that left his scent around the place to hopefully scare the other predators away, and then went back inside the lodge to start breakfast for the two guests.

Luckily Tate's call came during a lull in business. They hadn't been overflowing with guests, so Simon had an extra room for the girl. She'd been up most of the night, finally turning out her light at three in the morning. He heard her moving around, and remained ready to interdict her if she made a run for it, but in the end he only heard a little bit of snuffling that could have been tears. He gave her the room next to his so he could keep an ear out for any escape attempts — or assassination attempts, if things went badly.

He felt like a jerk already, after the abrupt way their conversation in the car ended. He couldn't quite figure out why, but he must have said or done something that offended her. Zoe barely whispered two words to him even after they arrived and he showed her where she would stay, only a soft 'Thank you' before she retreated to the small but cozy room. Simon frowned at the burner on the stove as it refused to light, leaning down to check the gas line before getting out a match.

Simon shook his head as he poured muffin batter into a tin. She was so jumpy, so damn skittish. He wanted to talk to her, to figure out how she looked at the world, to figure out why a shot of excitement raced through him every time he touched her. But she'd clamped her mouth shut and stared into the night with a pensive look on her face, worry creating lines across her forehead.

Ethan and Cooper stirred in the back of the lodge, shambling out in their pajamas, and silently ate their oatmeal and bacon and bowls of fruit. Then they disappeared again to get dressed and start work. The tourists wouldn't be up for another hour, most likely, and then would take a nature walk around the lodge. Simon glanced at his watch. Almost seven, and no sign of the girl. He'd told her to be up early before he shooed her off to bed, but she barely acknowledged he spoke. She looked dazed, a little off-kilter, and he wondered if she were actually as steady with her situation as Tate seemed to think. Being hunted by international criminals would be enough to throw anyone off their game, and Zoe didn't strike him as an even-keeled person to start with.

At half-past seven, he climbed the massive staircase to the second level of the lodge, the great-room open behind him, and took a right and then a left to the back of the house. He kept the big room with the great corner views in the back right of the house for himself, and gave her the space next to it, closer to the front of the lodge. The guests all stayed on the other side of the house, and the rest of his guys slept downstairs in the back. Simon wanted to build a few smaller cabins behind the lodge, so his guys could make better dens to manage their bears, but so far they didn't have the revenue to support new construction. Soon, though, or at least he hoped.

He knocked on her door, listening for anything stirring inside. Nothing. He knocked again and heard a grumbled, "Not now."

Simon edged the door open and poked his head in. "Hey. Time to get up."

She sprawled across the queen size bed in yoga pants and a t-shirt with a cartoon character on it, dark hair tangled across the pillows, and he abruptly had to revise his assessment of her age. Definitely not a kid. The backpack and sweatshirt she'd worn the night before hid some womanly curves, emphasized by the tight t-shirt and the gentle swell of her hips. He looked away before his thoughts drifted elsewhere, and knocked on the inside wall a little louder. "Time to get up, Zoe. Work starts early around here."

"You're nuts," she said, lifting her head enough to give him a jaundiced, one-eyed look. But she didn't move or cover herself up. "It's only seven. Normal people don't get up before noon."

He made an irritated noise, though it had more to do with the fact that he needed to stay behind the door to hide his interest in her than her reluctance to get out of bed. His bear very much wanted to crawl in with her and spend the rest of the day getting to know every inch of her. Simon struggled for control, his voice deepening as she moved and the t-shirt stretched across her breasts and her nipples slowly stood out against the thin fabric. "Zoe, I will dump a bucket of ice water on you if you're not downstairs in ten minutes."

She lifted her head again to peer at him. "You don't let the strays sleep in?"

Simon blinked, trying to formulate a retort, but she struggled free from the tangled sheets and marched up the door to pat his chest. "I'll be downstairs in half an hour."

She started to shut the door in his face but Simon blocked it with his boot and his shoulder. The bear might like her but he ran a tight ship, and everyone worked for their keep. Even if she smelled so good it drove him wild. "You're not a guest. You're here to work."

"Thought I wasn't supposed to touch anything?" She sounded fierce for something so small and soft and sleepy, her hair standing up and pillow wrinkles marking her cheek.

God, he wanted her to touch something, all right. Simon cleared his throat and struggled to remain composed. The guests would be up any minute and he didn't have time to show her exactly how he felt about her staying in bed all day. He wouldn't get a lick of work done if his bear was distracted by her all snuggled up and cozy. Maybe putting her in the room next to his was a terrible idea. "You're helping make breakfast for the guests, then you can weed the garden."

Her nose wrinkled into an expression so damn adorable his bear grumbled about letting her go back to sleep in his bed. Safer that way. None of the other bears would get any ideas about her. Zoe tried again to shut the door. "Manual labor isn't really my thing. I'm more of a white collar numbers kind of girl, see?"

Simon gripped the door, unmoving despite that she put her full effort into shoving him into the hall. It was kinda cute, maybe, her feet sliding on the floor as she leaned her entire body into trying to push him out. Simon frowned. "And how did that white collar stuff work out for you? On the run? Hiding out? I don't run a charity, girl, and you're going to work for your keep."

"I can pay you," she said, exasperated, and abruptly turned on her heel. She released the door so quickly he nearly fell through it, but recovered by the time she turned around, holding the backpack in one hand and a stack of cash in the other. It had to be at least five grand, probably ten. "How much do these yuppies pay? I'll double it. Just let me sleep in a little." She tossed him the cash and slid back into bed, making a sleepy noise as she rolled back up in the sheets.

It took every ounce of strength he had to not follow suit or at least tuck her in. He dropped the cash on the mattress next to her. "Manual labor will be good for you. Now get your ass out of bed. You've got ten minutes. If you're not downstairs by then, I will dump ice water on you and your first chore will be cleaning it up."

"Okay." She yawned and rearranged her pillow. "See you downstairs in ten."

Simon ground his teeth and left, catching the door before he slammed it, and stalked down the stairs to the kitchen. He pasted a smile on his face for the newly-awake guests, a married couple on something called a babymoon, and engaged in friendly conversation though he kept an eye on the clock. At eight minutes, he excused himself and filled up a bucket of water from the sink, dumping ice into it.

When the guests laughed and asked what he was doing, Simon's smile turned more genuine. "We have a reluctant employee. She has trouble with mornings."

So at least they were on his side as he hauled the bucket upstairs. He stood outside Zoe's door at nine minutes, and as soon as his watch said ten, he shouldered the door open. She blinked and looked at him, yawning. "It's not —"

He tossed the water on her and she yelped. Scrambled up as ice and water and sheets flew everywhere, and glared at him, mad as a scalded cat. Simon struggled to keep his expression even as she muttered curses and the soaked t-shirt clung to her body. "Like I said, Zoe. Your first chore is now to clean all this up, put the sheets in the washer, get dressed, and come downstairs to finish preparing breakfast."

Her chest heaved with indignation and her green eyes looked dark as emeralds as she scowled at him. "You're mean."

"And you're late." He turned on his heel and strode out before the sight of her breasts made him change his mind. He whistled as he headed back to the kitchen, stowing the bucket under the sink, and finished pressing fresh orange juice for the guests.

A few minutes later, a great deal of cursing came from a giant wad of sheets and blankets and pillows as it staggered down the stairs and disappeared into the back of the lodge. Simon pulled a tray of muffins from the oven and set them out to cool, keeping his composure as Zoe strode into the kitchen and fixed him with an evil eye. "What would you like me to do?"

He directed her to the skillet on the stove. "Don't let the sausages burn."

The guests tried to hide their grins. Simon felt a little bad; Zoe still looked like she'd just woken up, though she wore the jeans from last night and another t-shirt. At least she put a bra on. He turned his attention to the radio on his belt so he didn't end up staring at her chest, and pulled a map from the drawer in the kitchen island. He placed it in front of the guests. "So, a light nature hike around the lodge after breakfast is a great way to start the day. I recommend this track," and he highlighted a short trail that wandered into a nearby meadow. "The birds are singing and Ethan said he saw a couple of fox out early. Just keep an eye out for bears. The mama bears have been bringing their cubs around to eat. They're just black bears and are usually more afraid of you than you are of them, but when the mama bears think their cubs are threatened, it changes the situation. So take bear mace with you and this air horn. That should scare them away. Just talk and make noise as you walk so you don't surprise them."

The man raised his eyebrows as he studied the map. "It's safe, though, right?"

"Of course. Just stay aware and make some noise. But Noah can go with you, if you'd like?"

"No, we'll be fine." The guest continued eating, studying the map with a frown. "We'll take a radio with us, just in case."

"Sounds like a plan." Simon checked how Zoe handled the bacon and sausages, leaning over her shoulder as she poked them with a fork. He kept his voice low. "When those are done, make yourself breakfast. Then please help Ethan clean up."

She grumbled something that even his bear hearing couldn't catch, which was probably just as well by the death glare she gave along with it. Simon tried not to laugh and instead tugged on the end of her ponytail. "Okay, sunshine. Have a good morning."

He took a large cup of coffee and retreated to his office, just behind the kitchen. He'd never been a morning person, until necessity made him one. Hopefully Zoe figured out how to get herself out of bed on time each morning, otherwise that bucket would get a lot of use over the next month. He paused in the doorway to the office, frowning in thought as the bear pushed for them to keep her in their sight. Keep her close. Of course, if she insisted on sleeping in, that gave him the opportunity to wake her up.

Simon pinched the bridge of his nose and shoved away the thought. Not a good idea. Definitely not a good idea. He could make it through the month without getting attached to her. A girl like her would never want to stay at the lodge, and he sure as hell couldn't move to the city. Even if the bear thought she smelled good and wanted to stay next to her, it wouldn't work. She didn't know anything about shifters or his bear, and it was best to keep it that way.