The Bear Who Loved Me (2 page)

“I know it's unorthodox,” he continued, “but I can't think of anyone better.”

“Unorthodox? A female beta is unheard of! You think you have problems with Merkel now? Every shifter in the state will be calling you a pansy-assed
human
.”

A big insult in the shifter community. Everyone seemed to believe that the animal side was the power center. The
male
animal. But if any female could change their minds, it was Tonya.

“A female beta makes the clan look weak. Those Detroit bastards will be on us in a split second.”

“The Detroit clan has their own problems. They're not looking to start a war with us.” He hoped.

“You should ask one of my brothers.”

He'd thought of that, but he didn't trust them like he trusted Tonya. He'd known her since they were children. Everyone expected them to marry, so they'd been shoved together from their earliest moments. He knew the way she thought and which way she would jump. In most things, their opinions aligned, though she tended to more of a black-and-white rule of the jungle, while he tried to think a problem through. All of that added up to her being an excellent beta.

“I choose you. Swear unwavering loyalty to me, and we can hold the clan together without marriage. That's what you really want, anyway.”

She arched a brow. “You underestimate your attraction as a mate.”

“Bullshit. You want the power.”

“And the hot sex.”

Carl rolled his eyes. “So get a gigolo and be my beta.”

She shook her head slowly, not in denial but in stunned amazement. “You're trying to drag the shifter community into a modern mind-set. It's going to backfire on you. We're just not as logical as you.” To her credit, she didn't sneer the word “logical” like most shifters would.

“Will you do it? I can announce it at the next clan meeting.” He needed time to tell Alan, and that was not going to be a comfortable discussion.

“Yes,” Tonya said, being typically decisive. Then she pushed the car into drive, but she didn't move. “One more thing. You had a message. That's why I came out here to find you.”

He frowned. Damn it, she should have told him that first thing instead of trying to trap him into mating. “What?”

“There's trouble in Kalamazoo.”

“What?” The word exploded out of him, but Tonya didn't hear it. She'd already hit the gas and was roaring away.

Just as well
, he thought as he sprinted for his truck. Even clothed, there was no way to hide his reaction at the mention of that place where
she
lived. He hit the freeway with his erection lying hard and heavy against his thigh.

B
ecca Weitz's hands worked so fast they were almost a blur. Fortunately, she could be blindfolded and still make fondant turrets for Cinderella's castle. After five espresso drinks, she could sculpt walls and lay in a moat, too, if the princess wanted extra protection on her specialty birthday cake. And if the little girl was prone to horror, Becca could add in flying monkeys without breaking a sweat.

What she couldn't do was force one fifteen-year-old boy to call her to say he was home safe from track practice.

The jangle of the bakery's doorbell sounded, and Becca froze in place. She was in the back, so she couldn't see who entered, but her mind's eye conjured her nephew as he sheepishly thudded into her place of business. He'd apologize for not calling, then show her an A+ biology test. She'd curse his forgetfulness, then they'd hug out last night's fight, and all would be well.

Except instead of Theo's voice, she heard the low rumble of an adult male. A customer, then, and she was glad that she had Stacy to handle the sales. Until Theo called, all she'd be good for was making cake castles. So she turned her attention back to the cake's battlements. Maybe add some crenellation?

“You can't go back there!” Stacy's annoyed words were buried under a man's deep voice.

“Miss Weitz? Do you have a moment?”

Both voices startled her enough that she jumped, knocking her elbow into the newly decorated battlements. On a normal day, she could have caught the unstable walls, but today she was jacked up on caffeine and worried about Theo. What she didn't ruin in her fumbling fell to the floor with a dull splat.

“Fudge!” she cursed, more furious with herself than her intruder. Caffeine and delicate cake structures never mixed. But that didn't stop her from glaring at the man who… oh shit, he was big.

She took a deep breath as she placed him in her memory. Carl Carman, or Mr. Max as the kids called him, was the head of Theo's summer camp program. But since they'd met only outdoors, she'd never seen how the man could fill a doorway—not just with his height but with shoulders that stretched on forever. To his credit, he wasn't trying to be intimidating. If anything, he looked horrified as he stared at the cake remains. She, on the other hand, had ample nervous energy to burn off.

“Stay back!” she ordered. He hadn't moved, but she barked the order as if he were crashing into her battlements.

He froze, blocking the doorway as Stacy peered around his shoulder. “Oh hell,” the girl said. “Is that the Smithsons' cake?”

“No,” Becca answered as she waved at a whole line of princess castles and assorted cupcakes. “That's over there.”

Stacy whistled. “You've been busy.”

“Yeah.” When she got stressed, she made castles. And thanks to the arguments with her moody teenage ward, she now had eight princess homes. Well, seven, given that one was on the floor.

Meanwhile, Mr. Big and Apologetic gestured to a broom in the corner. “Can I help clean up?”

Becca took a breath and forced herself to be rational. It wasn't Mr. Max's fault that she was überjumpy, but she didn't like big men. They tended to throw their weight around, both physically and metaphorically. And in her experience, handsome big men were the worst.

“I've got it,” she said as she grabbed the broom. She also glanced at Stacy, silently letting her know that everything was okay. “You can stay there and tell me why you're in my kitchen.”

He twitched, his shoulders hunching slightly. He obviously wasn't used to being given orders, but his tone remained polite. Almost friendly. “I'm not sure if you remember me—”

Of course she remembered him. How many huge, handsome men wandered through her life? Exactly two, and the first one was her home again/gone again father. “You're Mr. Max, but summer camp is months away.”

“Call me Carl. Max is just what the kids call me.”

She'd be calling him Mr. Max because…well, because he was big and handsome and she couldn't think straight around that. “Theo wants to stay the whole summer this year,” she said, wondering again how she was going to afford that. “He's hoping that he could be a junior counselor or something.”

“I got his application already. And, yes, we'd be happy to have him, but that's not—”

“That's great news,” she said with false cheer. The doorbell jangled, and Stacy disappeared to handle the customer. That left Becca alone with Mr. Max, who seemed to be sniffing the room. Well, lots of people liked the smell of sugar, so she shouldn't find that weird. “I'll tell Theo as soon as I see him. He can call you for details.” She looked again at her cell phone, hoping she'd missed a text during the cake disaster, but no luck. The screen remained stubbornly dark.

“That's great,” he said, not sounding like it was great at all. Then he stepped farther into the room, his muscles rippling beneath his tee and his body dwarfing the remains of Cinderella's castle. “Do you know where he is right now? I need to talk to him face-to-face.”

She swallowed. Trust the man to barrel right into her personal crisis. “Theo's still at track practice.” She hoped. “Leave your card. I'll have him call you.” She carefully turned her back on him. It was the only way to deal with obnoxious men.

“I'm sorry, Miss Weitz. I've been to the track field. Theo never showed up for practice.”

She whipped around, her hands curled into fists. How dare he approach her adopted son without her permission.

Then the rest of his words penetrated.

Theo didn't show up for practice? But he lived for track and field. Even as a freshman, he was headed toward being the school champion at the discus. But that didn't explain why this man had been looking for Theo. “You better start talking, Mr. Max, before I call the cops.”

He held up his hands, doing everything he could to appear nonthreatening. She wasn't fooled. Just because he was big didn't mean he was slow. “I just wanted to talk to Theo. About the job and… some other things.” Then he took another step into the room, his eyes tracking her closely. There was an intensity to the way he watched her that she found unnerving. “I'm friends with Amy. She told me that Theo has been difficult lately.”

“Amy Baum, my next-door neighbor?”

He nodded as he moved even closer. She'd back up, but there wasn't a lot of maneuverability in her kitchen. “The walls are thin, and she's heard stuff.”

This was getting way too personal. He was too close, literally and figuratively. So she poked the man straight in the chest. “He's a teenager who lost his mother. Of course he's moody.” And argumentative. And forgetful. And
missing
.

He took hold of her hand, firmly pulling it down and curling her finger into his palm. His hands were large and warm, but what she noticed most was that his completely enveloped hers, and he didn't let her go. “I know. Look, Theo and I have a good relationship. I was in town and I thought I'd stop by. Maybe talk to him.”

“Because you're such good friends.”

“Because I'm an older male who has been through… puberty.”

There was a hitch in his voice right before the word “puberty.” She had no idea what it meant, but it didn't settle her nerves any. What did she know about hormonal boys? She'd grown up in an all-female household, since she was eight when her dad skipped. And damn it, Mr. Max still had hold of her hand.

“Come on, Miss Weitz. You've known me for years. I'm just trying to help.”

That was true. Theo had been going to Camp Max since elementary school. She wasn't even sure how her sister had first heard of the place tucked next to Gladwin State Park. But Theo had loved it, and so first Nancy, then Becca, had saved every year to afford the place. She'd never heard one bad word about Mr. Max from anyone, including Theo, who lately hadn't had a good word to say about anything. Which meant that the man probably was here just trying to help out.

But damn it, he was
crowding
her, and she couldn't think with him so close.

“Why don't you sit down? Tell me what's been going on?”

His words were mesmerizing and had a tone of command that she resented. And yet, she did exactly what he suggested. Her shoulders slumped, and she dropped onto a stool and stared at Mr. Max's boots. They were workman's boots, hard, scuffed, and dirty. Normally, it would drive her insane to have those things in her kitchen, but for some reason, she found them reassuring. Normal guys had dirty boots. And Mr. Max had the most normal boots she'd ever seen, even if they were massively huge.

But she wasn't going to just sit there and let him tower over her. “You sit, too,” she said, indicating another stool. “Here. Fill your hands with these.” She passed him a daisy cupcake and a tulip cookie. “Somehow big guys aren't so threatening with their hands filled with baked goods. But before you eat, tell me what you found out at school.”

He didn't like moving away from her. She could tell by the way his eyes narrowed and his shoulders twitched. But he didn't argue with her either as he sat down. The stool didn't creek under his weight, which she counted as a good sign. Then he picked up the cookie, sniffed it, and neatly bit through the entire flower.

“Theo was in classes all day, according to his friends,” he said after he'd chewed and swallowed. “But he never made it to practice.”

“Which friend?”

“Tommy, Willy, and…um…Bruce?”

“Bruno.” They were Theo's best friends, all on the track team with him. “They usually go to track together.”

Mr. Max nodded. “They said he was being pissy and wanted to be alone. Their words, not mine.”

“They're right. He has been pissy.” She sighed. “We got into a huge fight last night about his English grade.”

“Did he storm off?”

“If slamming his bedroom door and blasting his music at a hundred and ten decibels counts as storming off, then yes. That's what he did.”

“But he didn't leave?”

She shook her head. “He knows I'd freak. He might be angry, but he's not cruel.” She picked up the knife and started absently cutting a sheet of fondant. It was the only thing she could do to keep herself from breaking down. “You think he ran off?”

“We shouldn't jump to conclusions. Where might he go?”

She swallowed. “I already called the parents of his friends. They're all on the lookout for him, so if he stopped by, they'd call me.” Still, she grabbed her cell phone just in case. And then, because it had been at least ten minutes, she dialed Theo's number.

“Voice mail,” she said as she thumbed it off. No point in leaving another message after the last five. She sighed, willing Theo to call. To her surprise, a ring tone did sound, but it wasn't hers. It was Mr. Max's. He whipped his phone out with practiced ease.

“What have you found?” he said, his voice more brusque than she'd ever heard before.

She waited, watching his face as his expression tightened. When he noticed her watching him, he flashed her a quick smile. It wasn't reassuring. Especially with his next words.

“You're sure? Definitely Theo?”

Hope sparked blindingly fierce, but his expression wasn't happy. If anything, it was grimmer.

She couldn't keep quiet. “Have they found him? Is he okay?”

He didn't answer her. “Any point in sticking around there longer?” Pause. “Okay. I'll meet you at the boy's home. We'll regroup there.” He snapped the phone shut and then turned to her. But he didn't speak. Instead, he just tightened his mouth into a frown.

“What?” she demanded after five long seconds of nothing.

He pushed up from his stool and seemed to prowl closer. It was a weird thing to think, especially for a man his size, but his movements were so smooth and fluid, she straightened up in instinctive alarm.

“What do you know?” she said, her voice low and angry.

His gaze sharpened at her tone, and he stopped moving. Stilled like an animal caught in the glare of a flashlight. And then he straightened. His shoulders rolled back, his jaw tightened, and his expression flattened. He'd obviously come to some sort of conclusion, but what kind, she had no clue. So she held her breath and waited for whatever he needed to say.

“I'm not just someone who runs a camp for kids.”

Her gut cramped tight, but she kept breathing. Her voice even came out in some semblance of normal. “What else do you do?”

“I run a private investigation company. We're small potatoes, mostly. Just me and sometimes a few others.”

“What do you investigate?” If he said missing or abducted children, she was going to lose it right here next to a fondant castle wall.

“Nothing all that exciting. But when I heard that Theo was having troubles, I called a friend of mine. He was in the area, anyway, and he's the best tracker I know.”

“Tracker? Like a moose or bear hunter?”

He made a choking sound, quickly recovered, then he shook his head. “Well, he can track animals, but… Look, I just asked him to poke around the school, okay? He knows Theo's scent.”

“I beg your pardon?”

He grimaced. “It's a figure of speech. He helps out at the camp and he knows Theo.”

“So what did he find out?”

Mr. Max rubbed his trimmed beard, scratching at his jaw as if something bothered him. Then he rounded the table and gently pulled her up from her stool. “Theo was afraid.”

She gripped his arm. She didn't even know she'd reached out, but suddenly she was pulling on his muscular forearm, squeezing his solid strength. “Afraid? Why? And how would he know that?”

“He smelled—I mean, he talked to some kids. They said he seemed spooked or something.”

“Which kids?”

He reached for her coat and handed it to her. His expression had tightened down, telling her that he didn't want to say more. “It's not something to get alarmed about.” He spoke with a calm assurance that she wanted desperately to believe. “Boys his age get scared all the time. I know a guy who used to completely freak every time a girl talked to him.”