Laid Bear (3 page)

Gasping for air, her body started shuddering. She was in shock. She managed to crawl to the couch, where she huddled under the gaudy throw her grandmother had crocheted for her. If she’d had a gun, she would have been cuddling it, but all she had was a chef’s knife, which trembled from the shaking her hands transmitted to it. Tears streamed down her face unheeded.

“What the fuck was that?” she whispered. Her brain tried to make sense of it but the circuits weren’t connecting. It was impossible and didn’t make sense. She felt like a robot who’d been given contradictory information:
Does.Not.Compute
. She started giggling hysterically at the robotic voice in her head, understanding she was quite possibly losing her mind, but more probably in shock.

It didn’t take long for the adrenaline crash to come. One minute she was shivering and muttering “Does not compute” under her blanket, the next she was vaguely aware of the knife slipping from her fingers and clattering to the floor before she passed into oblivion.

~ * ~ * ~

The slam of Max’s front door jarred Bethany awake the next morning. She was curled up on the couch, stiff as a board and utterly exhausted. She watched Max’s shadow move toward his truck’s shadow, then stop. He moved back toward her side of the duplex and stopped again. She was sure he could hear her heart pounding all the way outside.
 

“Please go away,” she whispered. Almost as if he’d heard her, he moved back to his truck and drove away.
 

Bethany let out a sigh of relief. But there was something else…regret. She liked Max. Sure, he was hot as hell, but there was something else. He was a nice guy and seemed to genuinely like her.

But what she saw last night…

Did she really see it? The idea of Max being some kind of freaky shapeshifter was ridiculous, but she’d seen the bear with her own eyes. He was huge and brown and hairy. And he’d morphed into her gorgeous neighbor in a matter of an eyeblink.

Maybe that was it! Maybe she’d blinked and Max had chased off the bear and she just thought she saw him shrinking down in size, the bristly fur evaporating and turning into bronzed skin. Recalling Max’s naked form warmed her, making her squirm a little.
 

And now that the image was in her head, it was impossible to unsee. Max standing outside the gate, shimmering in the moonlight. Every muscle on his body highlighted by the moon. His long legs were lean and oh-so-lickable. But her mind’s eye kept traveling to that place between his legs, the place where glory lay.
 

Slapping herself lightly, Bethany told herself to snap out of it. Clearly a cold shower was in order. Maybe it would even clear her head a little so she could think things through.

Twenty minutes later, she padded into the kitchen, cuddled in a fuzzy robe, and started the coffee maker before cleaning up the broken glass in the sink. She was whistling a tune and felt quite content because she’d realized in the shower that she’d obviously sleepwalked during the night and had dreamed the shapeshifting episode. It was the only thing that made the slightest bit of sense.

Satisfied with what her waking brain convinced her was true, she set to work making a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs, her favorite. Just as she was sliding the over-easy eggs onto a plate, her phone chirped.
Char-Char
, the display read.

“Hey, Char! What’s up?” Her energy surprised her, making her wonder if she was overcompensating.

“I just wanted to confirm you’re coming tonight,” her friend said.

Shit, the party
. Her good cheer was dampened by the thought of being the only person without a date at this thing, but Char didn’t ask for much from her so it was the least she could do. “Um, sure. Want me to come over early to help?”

“Nah, it’s handled.” Charlotte paused. “B, you sound weird. Everything okay?”

Char always knew when something was going on in Bethany’s life. That’s what best friends were for. “Yeah, just had a weird dream last night that kinda freaked me out. I’m cool now. See you around six, right?”

Bethany could tell Charlotte wanted to press the issue but she restrained herself. “Yup. Be there or be on my shit list forever!”

S
he knew it was silly, but Bethany was relieved that Max didn’t come back for the rest of the day. She felt kind of like the wife who has a dream her husband is cheating on her, then gets mad at him for it. It wasn’t Max’s fault she had an extremely fertile imagination but she wasn’t sure she really wanted to see him right now. Besides, she was a master of avoidance.

She still felt emotionally exhausted so tonight’s party was just what the doctor ordered. She’d have one drink too many, sing ‘Copacabana’ on Char’s karaoke machine until everyone begged her to stop, and try to put last night’s sleepwalking episode out of her head.
 

Even though Charlotte had told her not to bother, Bethany made a point of heading over to her house early. Char and Jacob had just moved into a sweet little starter home across town, and they were having a ball hosting parties for their various friends. Bethany had been invited to all of them, but at a couple of parties for Jacob’s work friends, she didn’t really know anyone so she just helped Char. It kept her busy
and
made her very popular whenever she’d bring out a fresh tray of yummies. Besides, it was much safer to play waitress than it was to open herself up.
 

She always worried that people who talked to her at parties were just humoring the boring girl. But tonight’s guests would pretty much be people she knew so she wouldn’t have to worry quite so much. She’d still feel like a third wheel ten times over, but at least she was tagging along with friends.

“B, everything’s under control. Why don’t you get yourself a drink?” Charlotte looked completely put together and unfrazzled as she prepared platters of food, stocked the picnic table outside with booze and greeted guests. She really was the hostess with the mostest.

Bethany had happily done whatever Char needed but the thought of a nice, strong margarita on the rocks made her taste buds tingle. She was thrilled to find Paul manning the makeshift bar because he had a heavy hand when mixing drinks.
 

“Buy ya a drink, little lady?” She rolled her eyes at Paul’s sad imitation of John Wayne.
 

Paul had a way of cheering her up — everyone, really. When he was in a group, he was always upbeat and perky, but Bethany knew there was a dark side to him as well. They’d bonded as the odd men out of their group — his gayness, her chubbiness, their combined singleness — and shared some of their personal demons. And when Paul’s demons came out, life got very dark for him.

But he was here, which meant he was feeling good, and that made her happy.

“Margarita, if you please.”

Paul scoffed. “Margarita?! What, are you a wimp? Here, try this.” He poured a shot — a very healthy shot — of tequila and handed it to her.
 

“Where’s the lime and salt?”
 

He scoffed again. “In the kitchen, where they should be. Only pussies use lime and salt.” She squinted at his challenge, even as his eyes twinkled with mischief.
 

“A lady doesn’t drink alone, sir,” she shot back at him. His face broke into a grin.
 

“Deal!” He poured himself a shot, tinked glasses with hers and they downed them together.
 

“Whoo!” they both cried in unison, their faces twisting in boozy agony.
 

After they recovered, Paul poured them another round, snaked his arm through hers and dragged her off to a dark corner of the yard. Partygoers chatted and drank, though Bethany knew from experience that sooner or later, all that booze would disappear and the party would get wilder. Right now it was pleasantly mellow, her favorite time.

Once settled on a small bench, they sipped their drinks. “God
damn
, I love a good sipping tequila,” he said hoarsely after a particularly healthy sip. Bethany nodded her agreement because
 
her throat was burning too much to speak.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat. “What’s new with you?” He eyed her conspicuously. He knew about Max, she could tell. Charlotte must have blabbed.
 

“Don’t be coy, Paul. It doesn’t become you.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine. Spill.”

Bethany told him everything up to last night’s dream. She still felt weird about it, and she felt silly for it. Besides, it wasn’t relevant.
 

“Ooh, girl…” he crooned as he polished off his drink. “He sounds absolutely edible! Why aren’t you fucking him right now?”

Bethany shook her head at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s not interested in me. He’s just being neighborly.”

“Why do you always do that?”

“What?”

“Put yourself down like that. Why is it so ‘ridiculous’ to think some scorcher doesn’t have the hots for you?”
 

Bethany flushed and sipped her drink. He was right, she didn’t have the best self-esteem, but for good reason. “You know perfectly well that the only guys I attract are drunken losers. Remember that asshole last year? Girls like me don’t get guys like Max.”

Paul rolled his eyes again. Bethany was starting to hate that particular mannerism. “You can’t blame those assholes you date because — and I’m going to say this very slowly so your pea brain can absorb it —
you pick them!
” He tapped her forehead to make his point.

“You’re blaming me for their bad behavior?!” This was incredible! Anger started welling inside her but she didn’t want to make a scene so she downed the rest of her shot and glared at Paul.

He took a deep breath and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Darling, you need to look in the mirror. You’re fabulous. You’re beautiful. You’ve got a killer rack and an ass Kim Kardashian would kill for. Men all over town are lusting after you.”

Bethany shook her head and looked away, not believing a word of it.

“You’ve got all this going on, yet you settle for the shittiest of shitheads. You practically beg them to treat you badly and then are surprised when they do. It’s not that you only attract assholes, but for some reason you think those are the only guys who could possibly be attracted to you. It’s not true and you need to get over that.”

Paul relaxed his grip and let what he’d just said soak in. Could it be true? Could he be right that her string of ‘bad luck’ with guys was really by her own doing? That was a bitter pill to swallow.
 

“Are you saying I deserved that guy calling me a fat slut?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she tried to process what he’d said.

Paul gasped. “Is that what you heard me say? No! You didn’t
deserve
that, and when that guy gets out of jail, I’m going to personally kick his ass.”

Bethany harumphed and glanced at his slight frame.

“Well, I’ll get some friends to do it, anyway. No, B, what I’m trying to tell you is that you knew that guy was a dick when you started making out with him. You knew he treated women like pieces of shit stuck to his shoe. He’s got the worst reputation in town. So why did you fuck him?”

She shrugged, but she knew. Deep down, she felt she didn’t deserve anyone better. And that made her feel even worse. Her pathetic love life was a product of her own making.

Paul’s arm wrapped around her shoulders. “I’ve watched you brush off a dozen cool guys over the years because you thought they were too good to be into you. It’s a rare guy who’s going to pursue you when you put up such big walls.”

His words rang true. Every time a friend had said some cute guy liked her, she thought they were just trying to boost her ego. But she was realizing that wasn’t the case. She’d always compared herself to her skinny friends, but she did have assets that guys liked, so maybe some good ones could be attracted to her after all.
 

Or maybe one good one in particular.

“Take this Max character,” Paul was saying. “I haven’t seen him in action or anything, but if
you
think he’s flirting, then he must practically begging you to fuck him.”

Bethany laughed. “I wish! But maybe you’re right. Maybe I need to set my sights higher. And, let me tell you, they can’t get much higher than him.” She nudged Paul and winked lasciviously.
 

She grew serious and sighed. “I dunno, Paul. Do you really think it’s possible someone like him could want someone like me? Honestly?”

“Girl, you’re a babe. You’re a curvy, delicious hottie. About seven male heads — and one or two female heads — just about spun off their necks when you walked by. There’s one dude who can’t seem to take his eyes off you, and let me tell you, I wouldn’t kick him out of bed.” He nodded toward the back deck.

Bethany followed his gaze and locked eyes with Max. Her throat clamped down and her pulse thumped loudly in her ears. She was already flushed from the tequila but now she must be glowing like an ember. What was he doing here?

Paul caught her reaction and looked back and forth between them. “What…noooooo! Is that the guy?”

She felt paralyzed but was able to nod the tiniest bit. As always seemed to happen when she locked gazes with Max, she was unable to avert her eyes. He seemed as surprised to see her and she understood why when a sultry redhead sidled up and latched onto him. She cooed into his ear, causing him to glance down at her.

Released from his magnetic pull, Bethany turned her wide eyes to Paul, tears welling up in them.
 

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” He stroked her arm in an effort to comfort her without making a big public display out of it.
 

She nodded, shoulders slumped. “It’s okay. That makes a whole lot more sense anyway.”

“No, it doesn’t!” he said, a little too loudly. He adjusted his volume and continued. “Stop putting yourself down. You don’t know what the deal is. I mean, he keeps looking over here, so it can’t be all wine and roses. Besides, she’s a hag.”
 

She took a deep breath and braced herself. No way was she going to let him catch her tearing up over him. Nope. Not gonna happen. She stuck her finger in her eye, pretending she had something in it when she was really removing the evidence of her weakness.