Romance: Stranded With The Alpha Bear: BBW Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance (Werebear, BBW, Bear Shifter Romance) (Sweet Shifters Book 1) (4 page)

He wrapped me up in a hug, which made me feel incredibly uncomfortable. I patted him on the back again, not sure what I should do if he started to cry.

“We should probably get going. It is starting to get dark,” Christian interrupted us. “I think driving is a good idea.”

“Oh, sorry,” Stevie pulled away, wiping his eyes. “I can give you guys a ride, if you want.”

“It’s okay. Veronica said she could drive.”

“I thought you didn’t like to drive your mom’s car.”

Can this misery just end?
“It will be okay. Don’t worry about it.”

Stevie shrugged, “Well, maybe you can give me a call later or something. It’d be nice to talk.”

I nodded and waved as he got into his truck to go. Christian’s scowl looked even more prominent than usual, and he puffed his chest as if threatened. I don’t think this is even close to something I want to be involved in. I can’t understand why Christian would act jealous.

“Well, let’s get going then,” I ushered him to my mother’s Subaru, which, truthfully, I don’t like to drive. It still smells like her, and all of us didn’t want to open the doors too often for risk we’d lose that. Kevin and I used to admit it was crazy, but we both still held on to the notion.

“What was that about?” Christian asked.

I shrugged, “Stevie’s just an old friend. His sister and I were close in high school.”

“What about your mom’s car?”

We both got in, and I sucked in her scent. It’s definitely faded after all these years, but I could still smell it. “She can’t drive anymore, so I try not to um… you know… make her feel bad.”

He grunted and stared out the window. I wrapped my hands around the steering wheel, matched my fingers to the traces of my mother’s etched in the rough vinyl. I drove slowly, asking Christian every so often where I should turn. The previously drizzling rain now started to pour. I thought to comment it was lucky we didn’t walk home, but he didn’t seem into it. When we arrived, he got out immediately and stomped to the door. I stayed inside for a moment, thinking of Mom and Dad and Kevin.

At this point, it doesn’t matter if Christian knows that they’re gone. I’m not afraid he’ll hurt me (though I’m not sure I was before. I think I just wanted to give the impression that someone out there cared about me.) But it made me feel better to pretend they were back there at the house. I sighed, taking in the scent again and went inside quickly.

Christian stood outside in the rain with just his wife-beater on and the slacks. I took off the hoodie and put on a light dress Mom bought for me before she went into the hospital. I walked outside to stand with him out on the porch.

“You changed,” he said, looking me up and down as we stood there together.

“This is my favorite dress,” I replied.

He nodded. I closed my eyes and let the water drench me. I felt his eyes on me like a caress on my skin. Our hands brushed as they had when we walked together, but this time, his fingers hooked with mine. He didn’t quite take my hand, but the intimacy was still there.

I liked the way his long fingers felt as they gently protected mine.

VI.

That night I dreamt of Mom telling me I’d catch a cold from standing in the rain. Kevin sat on the couch making funny faces at me while Dad stood outside with Christian barbecuing.

“It’s nice your own reincarnation of Marlon Brando is letting us stay at this beautiful house,” she said, sitting next to me on the couch, “but don’t you think he’s a little emotionally unavailable.”

“Come on, Mom. He’s out there barbecuing with Dad,” Kevin replied.

“Yeah, and have you asked the boy about his sister? He sure doesn’t want to mention it.”

“His sister?” I looked into Mom’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

“You’re going to get a cold from the rain, sweetheart,” she answered. “You’re going to catch a cold.”

I woke up earlier than I usually do. I didn’t hear Christian moving around yet. I grabbed the tablet and started looking at the Missing Persons, hoping it would lull me back to sleep. The faces started to get more familiar, but still were older than Beth. Some of them I vaguely remembered from old posters hung on the bulletin board in the local market.

I came upon a girl with deep dark eyes and dark hair with a bright smile. I recognized her face. Sometimes after closing the bar, I’d see her sitting outside the old post office alone. She’d usually have a big drink with her. Once I even approached her.

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked as I walked up. “I wouldn’t sit out here alone if I were you.”

“I wouldn’t walk out here alone if I were
you
,” she answered. “They’re coming back for me. They always do. I don’t run anymore.”

“Do you need help?”

She laughed spitefully, “Like you could.”

“Okay, nice talking to you.”

She’d creep me out every time. The last time I saw her was a little bit after Dad died. She called me over and told me she was sorry about his death. I told her it wasn’t any of her business and hurried home. She looked thinner, but that woman was the same as the girl on the Missing Persons.

Christian’s door opened and his footsteps padded toward the stairs. I got up to get ready quickly. My hair looked wavy from the shower I took before bed, so I braided it into a Dutch bun and slipped on a red sundress to be comfortable but still presentable. Butterflies burst in my stomach as I prepared to go downstairs. I had to make it quick or he’d disappear again into his room as he did when we came back in from the rain.

Maybe I should start the conversation with, “My mom warned I’d get a cold from the rain. Also, she’s dead.”

I chuckled, grabbed the tablet, and hurried downstairs. Christian stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and waiting for his coffee to finish brewing with a stack of papers in his hand. He looked up from the reading material with a raised eyebrow.

“Where are you hurrying to?” he asked, looking into my eyes, sizing me up, and then back to my eyes. He kept his reserved coldness, but I noticed a slight pink tinge come to his cheeks.

“I was hoping I could teach you how to make coffee before you started it,” I answered. “It looks like I was too late.”

He gave his slight smile and readjusted his lean. “Well, if you want to pour it out and try again, go ahead. I will admit I don’t do a great job of coffee brewing. My dad was better at it.”

“Let me help you then,” I said, moving forward to the coffee machine and pouring out what had brewed. “Your first problem is it looks like you haven’t cleaned this thing in a long time. Do you happen to have a French press somewhere?”

“Yeah, up in that cupboard at the top.”

I went to the cupboard and tried to reach for the thing. He came up behind me, pressing his body against mine to make his arm an extension of my own, and grabbed it down. I felt his breath on my neck, which sent a tingling of desire down my spine. I quickly shook out of it and took the thing from him.

“All right, let’s boil some water now.” I filled up a pot and put it on the stove. “We’ll put about two to three tablespoons of coffee in there after we rinse it out with the hot water.”

“Why rinse it if it’s clean?”

“It’s what my brother used to do. He wanted to own a coffee shop, and he was a really good barista, actually.”

“He
was
?”

“Yeah, he was.” The water finished boiling so I poured a little in the press and swished the plunger around, then poured it out. I then put in the coffee and poured in half of the water I wanted in. “You pour in about half of what you want at first and let it bloom. It will form a crust of coffee grounds, see that?”

He leaned next to me to look into the press, then nodded. “I see that.”

“All right, after about thirty seconds, we’ll stir it gently for five seconds. Do you want to do that?”

“Sure.” He grabbed a spoon, then stirred when I gestured for him to. “Now what?”

“Put the top on it, and we’ll let it sit for about three and a half minutes.”

“That seems easy enough. I hope it works out.”

“I do too,” I chuckled. He went back to leaning and gave me a fuller smile. I bit my lip, my blood still flying through my veins with passion. “Um… so you said the girls who go missing don’t come back, right?”

“I’ve never heard of them being found, no,” he answered. “What does that have to do with the coffee?”

“I um… I think I’ve seen one of the girls who went missing around ten years ago. I think she’s one of them.”

“It could just be a girl who ran off that happened to resurface. Sometimes that happens with girls that disappear,” he shrugged. “What do I do with this now? I think it’s been three and a half minutes.”

I walked forward and took his hand, guiding it to push the plunger all the way down. I then grabbed two cups and let him pour coffee into each, his eyes meeting mine the whole time.

He took a sip and smiled, “That’s a hell of a lot better! Thank you.”

“Sure,” I sipped mine as well. “It’s mostly for my benefit you learn to make coffee.”

“I’m sure. So, what about this girl?”

I pulled out the tablet and opened the window with her picture. I held it out to him. He moved close to me, so close he could simply lean forward and touch his lips with mine, then took the tablet. He glanced at it briefly, met my eyes again, before doing a double-take. He stared at the picture, turning his back to me.

“You’ve seen this girl before?” he asked with a monotone voice.

“I’ve seen her a few times. The last time was after…” I swallowed, “my dad died. She told me she was sorry.”

“You didn’t tell me your dad died.”

“No, I didn’t. You haven’t exactly shared a lot with me.”

He turned to me, walking toward me almost aggressively, “You’re sure this is the girl? You’re absolutely sure?”

“It’s her eyes. I know from the eyes.”

He kept looking from me to the photo. He took a gulp of his coffee, then handed the tablet back.

“I have to go make some calls. But I’ll be back to talk to you about this more. All right?”

I nodded. He awkwardly patted my shoulder as I had with Stevie. He then rushed upstairs. I took a deep breath, the desire that had been bubbling within me still present, but dissipating with the sexual tension of the room. I leaned back on the island and rubbed my eyelids. That was more intense than I thought it was going to be.

I guess the question is now, who is the girl? Was she an ex-girlfriend? She had to be someone he knew from the way he acted. Of course, he was acting strangely flirty as well, which is weird for him - it involves showing some emotions, which I didn’t think he possessed. I’m just not sure where to go from here.

I went to sit on the couch, staring at the girl and drinking my own coffee. At least I have good coffee now. It could be worse - I could’ve let him make it. After a while, he came back down, looking world-wearier than he had before. He poured himself another cup of coffee and stood in the kitchen, leaning his elbows on the island and putting his beautiful head in his hands.

Should I get up and comfort him? Should I pretend I don’t see him at all? I sipped my coffee. That seemed like the most reasonable thing to do.

“I’m sorry to react in such a way,” he said, startling me into spilling the hot coffee on myself.

I yelped, jumping up from the heat, “Hot coffee! Hot coffee!”

              I jumped and danced, not noticing him wet a dish towel and rush to my aid. He brushed my chest where I’d spilled the coffee, cooling the burn.

              “That feels nice,” I said, melting into his touch and the towel.

I placed my hand on his to bring the cold closer to my skin. We stood there for a moment, his hand on my breast with the towel, and I holding that hand there. It didn’t register how intimate it felt to be so close to him as I felt the pain cool down; yet, when our eyes met, our bodies so close to each other, I felt heat rise again from the muted passion between us rather than the burn.

My hand ached to pull him closer and touch his lips with mine, but he spoke before I could. “Does it feel better?”

I nodded. He unwrapped his hand from under mine and stood back.

“As I was saying, I’m sorry I reacted in such a way.”

“I think you did a fine job jumping into action right there.”

“I mean with the girl.”

“Right.” I tried to give a fake smile to soothe my blazing hormones. “It’s okay. I didn’t think anything of it.”

“Well, I feel I should explain myself. Um…:” he thought for a moment, his eyes searching for the words and avoiding me, “that girl is… someone very special to me.”

My heart dropped. “An ex?”

He shook his head, his eyes still searching. “You know how there’s a room upstairs with the butterfly on the door?” I nodded. “It was the missing girl’s room. My parents couldn’t touch it when she left, and then my mom left. So, it’s kind of this… moratorium to her.”

“So, she’s your…”

“Sister. She’s my sister, Marilyn.” He paused, still seeming deep in thought and not meeting my eyes. “My mom used to say they’d cursed her from the start by naming her Marilyn. She was bound to be beautiful, but die young.”

I picked up the tablet to examine the girl again.
She has his eyes.
“I didn’t see her all that long ago. If she’s been alive this long, she’s probably alive now.”

“How long ago since your dad died?”

I sighed, “He passed last winter.”

“How would she have known about that?”

“Maybe she saw him passed out in the snow. The whole town knew about it.”

“Your dad was the one found out in the snow? I heard about that.”

“See, even a recluse like you knows.”

He gave his slight smile but continued undaunted. “I thought I read he was a widower.”

Oh crap.
“Maybe that was someone else you’re thinking of.”

“Was his name Ed, and he spent most of his time at the bar?”

I shrugged. He’s caught me.

“Did you even call your mom that first day?”

              “I did call home, but no one was there.” He stared at me, showing he didn’t believe my lie. I sighed. “We kept my mom’s voice on the answer machine. I call it when I need comfort. I guess we should’ve changed it long ago, but none of us could. And now it’s just me.”

              “Your brother…?”

              “He overdosed some time ago. I try not to think about how long.”

              “Why didn’t you tell me?”

              “I didn’t think I should tell you I don’t have a family. You know, just in case.”

              He nodded, looking down at the ground.

             
I don’t know how to save this.
“What are you going to do about Marilyn?”

              He took a deep sigh and sat down on the couch. “I talked with the tribe, and we discussed trying to find where she could be hidden. Do you remember any kind of pattern from the times you saw her?”

              I thought back. “Now that you think about it, I always saw her right before the full moon. I remember because my brother used to say that time was the calm before the storm. He believed in moon cycles and astronomy. She was always in front of the post office.”

              “Sit next to me. You don’t have to stand,” he patted the spot next to him. I took a deep breath, butterflies bursting within me, and sat next to him. “I appreciate you trusting me enough to tell me about this. And I don’t blame you for not wanting to tell me about your family. This is… a scary and strange situation to be in.”

              “It is. I face danger every day with the coffee alone. Either I’m poisoned or burned.”

              He laughed, “Coffee is my weapon of choice.”

              “It’s pretty deadly, I’d say.”

              He kept laughing, his eyes smiling as they looked into mine. Slowly, he leaned forward, getting ever closer. I closed my eyes, waiting for him to kiss me. Suddenly, a knock came at the door, and his weight shifted to answer it. I frowned, leaning back into the couch and drinking the rest of my coffee. Christian greeted a group of men who entered. I stood and covered the coffee spot on my dress. The men all laughed with Christian, seeming to be already acquainted with him.