The Bear In Me: A BBW Bear Shifter Romance (3 page)

They both stopped at Sam’s car and Emily let out a
whoo
sound to indicate she was impressed by his life-story. “So you own two businesses?”

Sam scratched his head sheepishly. “Yeah. In my spare time I do lots of odd jobs, kind of a jack-of-all-trades, but master of none, if you know what I mean. Not like you… graduating top of your class. You’re probably the most educated person here.” He said as they both got into the 4Runner.

He pulled out and they drove down another section of road that was on the border of the town. When Emily had first entered Fairbanks, the dense foliage of fir and cedar and pine had seemed a bit suffocating, as if the forest were trying to consume her – but now, in the safety of Sam’s truck with him beside her, it didn’t seem quite so sinister. She leaned against the window and spotted a dark shape flying above them and pointed it out to Sam who squinted and quickly made the determination it was a bald eagle, probably a fledgling.

They made a large loop, and both fell into silence, but Emily could feel Sam occasionally looking over the passenger seat at her. Each time she tried to catch his glance he quickly brought it back to the steering wheel or the dashboard, his brow scrunched up as he made a concerted effort to look concerned over the mileage or gas intake. She made it a small game between them, pretending not to notice his sideways glances and luring him in, and then quickly turning her head as if she’d seen something out the front window.

Her impertinence finally struck her on the fourth or fifth time and she bit her lip again.
What am I doing
, she repeated. It was easy to get carried away. Sam was very handsome. There was a rugged structure to his face, something at once tough and uncompromising but at the same time filled with kindness, a strange benevolence that she had never known growing up in the city. Maybe it was just the way country-folk were. Being so far from civilization and other people, you had to look out for each other – maybe it was just something that rubbed off on you the more isolated you were.

Still, she had to be careful. She knew that shifters like herself, whether they were Wolves or Bears or forms she had only heard rumors of, were often the subject of prejudice. Even in a remote town like this, there was always danger. It was a cynical but predictable element of human nature, one she had learned to deal with a long time ago.
I was taught well
, she thought, suddenly thinking of her parents for the first time in years. The realization that it had, in fact, been years since she’d thought of them was even more of a blow, and she leaned against her hands again and turned her face away from Sam.

“You alright?” He asked suddenly, his voice several decibels quieter.

She took in a deep breath before she answered and turned, the fabric of her open collar crinkling as she moved. “Yeah, just… lost for a moment.”

“What’cha thinking?”

She hesitated. “My parents, actually. It’s funny. I haven’t thought about them in a long time. I think it’s this place. They would have liked this place. Sorry.” she apologized again.

“It’s okay.” Sam said, stepping on the brake at a yellow light, “I take it… your parents, I mean. You’re talking about them in the past tense.”

“They died when I was very young. I was raised by a family friend.” She explained, “I think the woman who took care of me probably didn’t want the job but felt obligated, y’know? She did well enough though, considering what a brat I was. But she didn’t want to be a mother, and I didn’t want to be a daughter. I learned to take care of myself.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Emily.” He said. It was the first time she’d heard him use her name, and the intimacy of that utterance struck her as magical. She could feel her heart thump faster against her ribs.

“It’s alright, really! They had good lives while they were here.” She said.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to them?”

“I’d rather not… talk about it, if that’s okay?”

Sam nodded. “No problem. I’m sorry. My parents passed away too. It’s a bit difficult to deal with, when it happens. Like an empty spot opens up that you’re not sure can ever be filled.” He said, his voice becoming more and more distant. Emily must have been staring at him because he blushed again and laughed weakly. “So! Why don’t you tell me what I’ve been dying to know since I saw you,” he said suddenly. “Why’d you decide to come all the way out here?”

The question was one she’d been asking herself for a while now, and she wasn’t quite sure how to answer it herself. She appreciated Sam’s patience as he continued to drive around, allowing her to formulate an answer.             

“I think I’ve always known I was a bit different from my friends down in San Francisco. Don’t get me wrong, they have great lives, and I love them, but… I’ve always been on the fringes. Like I didn’t quite fit in, or something, no matter how hard I tried. Like they could smell something on me. I don’t know; this probably isn’t making any sense.”

“Keep going,” Sam urged.

“I’ve always known I wanted to help people. That’s why I studied so hard. But in the last year, as graduation was coming up, I just felt like I was heading for a roadblock or a wall. I needed to find a way off the tracks. Does that make sense?”

Sam nodded again, one hand on the steering wheel. The muscles in his forearm rippled with the effort, long strands of tendon pushing out against the pale flesh. “More than you know.” He replied earnestly.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this,” Emily said in an exasperated tone, “I just met you and I’m telling you things I haven’t told my friends before. It’s weird. I’m sorry for unloading.”

“You need to stop apologizing,” Sam said tenderly.

“I just felt like… Alaska might have people more like me. Somewhere,” she struggled for the correct word, “easier.”

Sam seemed amused and slapped his steering wheel hard enough to make Emily jump in her seat. She quickly flattened the skirt over her legs, pulling the tights further down her knees. “You might be more right about that last statement than you know.” Sam said, and turned in his seat so that he could look her in the eyes.

Emily felt her heart leap again, not faster but harder, like someone pounding on her chest cavity from the inside, trying to get out. It hurt, and she reflexively drew her other hand up and braced it against her xiphoid process. Sam’s eyes had suddenly changed, and Emily couldn’t tell if it was the way the shadows were playing across the windshield or if it was something else, but he had transformed. His expression was still Sam, but there was a presence lingering underneath it, like looking at a clear stream and at first only seeing your reflection – but the harder you looked, the more you could make out what was underneath.

There was also a hardness there. Something she hadn’t expected or seen any evidence of, even though she’d been wary from the onset since meeting him.
I’ve only known him since this morning
, she reminded herself, lost in his gaze. That same piercing quality from before, as if he was vaguely aware of a secret she was keeping from him, and was just being polite by not pointing it out. It was a terrifying experience, one in which she couldn’t shake, even after she gave him a coy smile and looked back out the passenger window. She could still feel him looking at her, into her, as if urging her to shed the masque she had so conveniently thrown over her emotions.

CHAPTER TWO

That evening, Sam dropped by Emily’s cabin and gave three sharp knocks on her door. She had just come out of the shower and was wearing only a tight mid-riff baring T-shirt and panties. The small nubs of her nipples stretched obviously against the fabric, and she realized she’d forgotten to put on a bra. Sam knocked again, and she made a groaning sound as she hopped into the living room.

“Shit,” She half-murmured to herself, struggling out of the bedroom and trying to get the last button on the top of her jeans as she viciously dried her dirty blonde hair with the other arm.

When she opened the door Sam seemed equally taken aback and half-pivoted in place as if he meant to come back later. He had freshly shaved and even his hair was a bit tidier, combed over to one side, as if the wind had gotten hold of him in a single direction. He still had on a plaid shirt, but this one was new, and she could almost make out the crisp seams. There was something else too – he smelled differently.

That morning when they’d first met, he had smelled like she imagined lumberjacks ought to smell like: wood and sap and the faint caustic whiff of gasoline, the rugged blend of sweat and coffee. It wasn’t unpleasant, per se. She had learned her own scent could be quite powerful, especially when she was in form and the Bear had awakened in her.

But now he smelled more…what was the word? She hated that the only thing she could think of was
human
. The lingering lye of soap, paraffin from a candle. It was a strange exotic and brisk smell, that reminded her of the river outside which was like a constant humming in her mind, always in the background: reliable and consistent.

She remembered herself and quickly urged him inside, hurtling more apologies as she disappeared back into the bedroom and told him to make himself at home.

“There’s no rush.” Sam said, his hands behind his back. “I phoned Lily at the café, she’s just finishing up for the night and says she’ll join us at the bar in fifteen or so.”

Emily came back out of the bedroom, fidgeting with a bra-strap and saw Sam turn away again. He’d clearly noticed her lack of preparedness earlier, and she cursed herself silently for having forgotten to put on a bra. She didn’t have huge breasts but they were well proportioned, especially when framed in the dozen or so T-shirts she’d brought with her – all of them, she now realized with some dismay, tighter and more revealing of her cleavage than was the norm around Fairbanks.

Even now Sam was carefully avoiding letting his eyes slip to the V-neck of her collar, where the tops of her firm breasts still glimmered with the after-effects of her shower. She dried her hair again, raising her arms above her head, and the T-shirt hiked up again, revealing the smooth tan of her mid-riff and belly-button, which peeked out above the low-cut waist of her jeans.

“Well, let’s not keep her waiting.” She said enthusiastically, pulling on a black zip-up hoodie with the Lulu Lemon insignia strategically placed stitched into the sleeves.

Sam reached out suddenly and caught her by the arm, and she was surprised at the strength of his grip. She turned, flustered, and saw that same mischievous look on his face she had seen earlier in the café. He reached down, still holding her by the arm, and picked up the purple towel she’d thrown willy-nilly onto the back of the sofa and drew her closer.

She was too surprised and taken aback to resist, and suddenly closer to him than she’d ever been. She could feel the heat of his skin against hers as he laughed and plopped the towel down on her head and began to knead gently at her still damp hair.

“Can’t let you go out like that.” he warned. “It may be summer but Fairbanks summer isn’t California summer. You’ll catch a cold for sure and I’d feel responsible.”

She didn’t say anything as he continued to knead her scalp, his brow furrowed in serious attention to detail as he tried to dry every lock of her hair and gently touched her elbow for her to spin so he could dry the back of her head. She let him and felt a tingling sensation that started in her toes and ran all the way up to the small of her back and into her shoulders.

It felt uncommonly good to be tended to like this, even if it was as something as drying her hair. Just that physical connection, the presence of touch, somehow changed everything – you could know someone for decades (or in her case, hours) and suddenly they touched you and it was all different. It was because a touch couldn’t lie, no matter how hard you tried. Words, even the kindest and truest words, could be misread, misinterpreted, used against you. But a touch, the simplest expression of one person’s affection for another, was beyond language.
Like so many other things about me
, she mused.

“There,” Sam said, satisfied at last. “Let’s go get that drink.”

Sam and Lily’s bar, The Turncoat, turned out to be less than a ten minute walk from the cabins, balancing on the edge of a street corner like an afterthought. Inside the smell of hops was ubiquitous, combined with a faint and jagged odor of wood and solvents. For a moment, Emily was afraid that her sense of smell had suddenly increased on cue with the awakening of the Bear form, but when she turned for reassurance to Sam she saw him wincing likewise at the heavy atmosphere.

The bar-master was an older man bearing a slight belly under his black filthy apron and a receding hairline that revealed too much scalp. It was sunburned and sweaty with the heat of carbon dioxide and so many bodies on a Friday night. It seemed impossible for that many people to have fit into such a small establishment. On the walls were mounted and stuffed trophies, and Emily recoiled, less in revulsion than fear, of the taxidermy heads that stared down at her. A young woman, clearly drunk or stoned out of her mind, accidentally bumped into her and let out a shrieking laugh and a mumbled apology as the embarrassed man beside her shepherded her out into the night air.

“The Turncoat is the place to be on a Friday… or Saturday. Really, any day,” Sam said, correcting himself several times and holding up two fingers to the bar-master who winked and went to work, sliding across two huge tankards of amber fluid.

“It’s not… that different from San Fran,” Emily shouted over the chaos, even though she knew she was lying. The bar scene in California was wild enough in places but here there was a deeper sense of unpredictability. A reserved sense of peril, one with which she found herself suddenly in tune. She chalked it up to the Bear, snoring in its slumber. Threatening to waken.

“Can we go somewhere a bit quieter?” she asked suddenly, tugging on Sam’s shirt.

He seemed to sense her discomfort and nodded instantly, looping his own arm under hers and motioning towards a staircase that led to a partial second floor deck in the vast bar. She let herself be carried through the crowed. It was uncanny – people just seemed to move out of the way when they saw Sam. It was more than just respect, she realized, when she saw a stricken look of panic in one of the patron’s faces. It was fear.

The upstairs was a bit less rowdy, and seemed to be inhabited by the older generation. Sam and Emily were easily the youngest amongst them and she enjoyed the toned down atmosphere. Beside them two older men with big beards smiled happily and muttered something to each other.

“And here she is.” Sam said suddenly, pointing behind her.

Emily didn’t have time to turn around before she felt another pair of lithe arms wrap around her neck in a clumsy hug, and heard Lily’s giggle in her ear. The Native woman slumped down in the other chair and let out a deep sigh, the creases of her mouth flexing wildly as she explained that it had been an exhausting day.

“I’m surprised,” Emily chimed in, “I don’t think I could do what you do. Handling orders and what-not, I’d be confused by the second customer. I’m also way too clumsy.”

“Don’t tell me that!” Lily exclaimed. “I was counting on hiring you if my two other employees don’t shape up. I love them to death, but they’re high school kids… they’re more interested in camping, slacking off, being kids, y’know. Of course, that’s the way it should be. I would have hated having a job at their age.”

“You did though, didn’t you?” Sam teased.

“Only on account we were poor growing up and mum was sick.” She said, sipping her beer, “Otherwise, I totally would’ve been with the rest of you, pissing away time down by the river or in the bush where-”

“Anybody want a second round?” Sam interrupted, standing up and heading down the stairs to the main bar.

Lily shut her mouth instantly, and Emily detected something pass between them, a weird sort of tension that flickered in a glance and then died away. Lily regained her composure and put a hand on Emily’s.

“I take it you two grew up together?” Emily asked.

Lily nodded and she could see that her long bangs were braided into tight pleats that disappeared under the long lustrous mane of a ponytail. Black as anything Emily could imagine, like it took the light in and wouldn’t let it go. Lily’s round face blinked and she rubbed a finger under her chin as she tried to recollect.

“Sam was always nice to me. It’s not always easy being Native up here. I actually grew up on a reservation, but after my dad disappeared, me and mum moved here. School was really tough. I was the only dark skinned kid in my class and all the other kids liked to tease me, you know how awful youngsters can be. Sam protected me though. Got more than one bloody lip for it, but…” she looked up suddenly, as if she’d been caught in the middle of something private, “well, he’s a good guy.”

“It’s funny,” Emily began, “I guess you find that everywhere.”

“I bet you were one of the few ones who had a good high school experience,” Lily joked.

“Why do you say that?”

“I dunno… you’re cute, you seem sharp,” Lily said over her beer.

“You give me too much credit. I wasn’t that amazing… in fact, I kind of just tried to avoid high school. I was like the ghost in the class. No one noticed me, and I was thankful for that.”

“That’s better than having
everyone
notice you,” Lily replied acerbically.

“I figured that people up here would be more forgiving, accepting. I don’t know why I thought that, I just hoped I guess.”

Lily reached out and touched Emily’s hand again and the blonde girl winced, as if she’d been hit with an electrical charge. Lily’s finger tips were heavily callused, as if she’d been working with her hands for years. But they were warm, and the gesture itself seemed to try to expound on something neither of them could properly enunciate.

“There’s actually something we wanted to talk to you about.” Lily began slowly when she saw Sam return and place three fresh beers on the round table, “kind of in the same vein. Sam told me about you a bit, why you came up here.”

Emily looked to Sam, and he nodded back. “That you didn’t really fit in when you were in San Francisco. You know why you didn’t fit in. Hell, we know it too.”

Panic flared up again in Emily’s mind and she recoiled from Lily’s touch and stared hard at both of them. They were both being vague, dancing around something, but she couldn’t be sure what it was. Her hands buckled into fists in her lap again, and she felt her arms quivering as she clenched harder, trying to slow the beat of her heart. The Bear in her started to shift, squirming impatiently like a child – she knew it was impossible, that Lily and Sam could know anything about it, about her. But at the same time, the way they looked at her, the way they both exchanged glances now across the table, it was like they had planned this; some sort of shifter intervention. Emily tried to smile weakly and brought the beer to her lips as a diversion, but she could still feel Sam’s gaze on her. He rubbed his face and looked around the room.

“Listen, this place is giving me a headache. What do you say we head down to the river? I’ve got a six pack in the fridge at home, and besides, it’s almost a full moon tonight. I could use some fresh air.” he suggested.

Lily nodded but waited to see if Emily was okay with it. Reluctantly, she nodded and followed them out of The Turncoat. It was chillier, and she zipped up the front of her jacket and exhaled slowly, saw her breath congeal white in front of her and then fade. The smell outside was like wood smoke and ice, fresh and unforgiving, and she was surprised how quickly it sobered her up.