Caribou's Gift (2 page)

Sigh.

“What wrong, Mama?” Gigi startled her with the question, and it took Crystal a moment to spot her child among the parade paraphernalia scattered throughout the large hangar-like garage. The massive space appeared as if Christmas had puked on it. Everywhere she looked, there were mounds of stuff. Boxes overflowing with tinsel, trailers pre-decorated with Christmas scenes and lights on sledge runners for easy movement along the packed snow and ice on the roads. Amongst the structures and chaos, hung costumes, a veritable army of elves, snowmen, and abominable snow beasts.

Gigi’s little face peered at her from between a pair of red-striped thermal leggings.

Crystal dropped to her knees. “Munchkin, what are you doing hiding in there? I thought you were playing with the other children in the recreation room.”

“I was.”

“And?”

Gigi shrugged, her gaze dropping.

Even though she didn’t reply, Crystal could guess. Someone had frightened her. Probably not on purpose. Something as simple as an exuberant father picking up his child and swinging them in the air could have sent her little one scurrying.

Thanks a lot, Malcolm.

“You know no one will hurt you here, right?”

A small nod.

“If anyone ever scares you, just let Mommy know or, if I’m not there, tell Reid, our alpha. He doesn’t let bullies hurt little girls. He’ll take care of whoever is frightening you.” If Crystal didn’t rip the face off them first.

“But he’s scary too,” Gigi confided.

“Because he’s alpha. But I promise you, he’s only a bear with the bad guys. Not cute little girls.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart.” But she didn’t add the die part. No use in tempting the sadistic fates, not when her phone vibrated yet again in her pocket. Message three hundred and two? Three? It didn’t matter. Crystal could already guess what it said.

I will find you, and when I do, you’ll get your ass back home where you belong.

Someone hadn’t taken the news of their breakup well. More like he refused to accept Crystal didn’t want to stay with him. She’d changed her number three times now and given it out only to her sister, who lived a few thousand kilometers away, and her grandmother. The asshole didn’t care he scared her old Granny out of her wits. He wouldn’t let go and cajoled poor Granny into giving the numbers each time. So Crystal kept the current number to stop his harassment, kept it even if he called it constantly. She never answered. Didn’t listen to his voicemails. Deleted his texts. It didn’t stop his determination to get her back.

It must have driven him nuts when he realized she’d moved again. She already knew Malcolm was pissed he didn’t have a clue as to her location. After the last time he found her—only with the overeager aid of a pair of women, armed with pepper spray, did Crystal manage to flee from him. After that, given she had Gigi’s safety to think of, Crystal didn’t dare tell even her closest family where she’d fled.

Good luck finding me now.

Crystal had found refuge in the most remote location she dared. Kodiak Point. Population of a few hundred led, if accounts could be believed, by an honorable alpha who, when he heard the tale of her plight, welcomed her with open arms and a promise of safety.

In time, Gigi would hopefully believe in that safety and once again become the little girl who used to laugh and smile at the world.

Holding out her arms, Crystal gave her daughter a beckoning nod. Gigi emerged from her hiding spot and nestled in her embrace. Crystal carried her daughter, first to the community center area where they’d piled their outdoor gear, then to her car to take them to the home they’d made for themselves.

As Crystal buckled her in to her booster seat, Gigi softly said, “Only four more sleepies, Mama, until the parade.”

“Just a little excited are we about seeing Santa?”

“And Rudolph.”

And Rudolph. Dammit. Crystal couldn’t help thinking of Kyle and finding herself riled all over again.

Was it too much to ask that her daughter get the one thing she wanted this Christmas? A chance to see Rudolph guide Santa’s sleigh.

Yet one man would ruin her daughter’s simple dream.

Grrrr.

Or maybe not.

Crystal hadn’t missed the way Kyle had initially eyed her. She knew that look. Recognized that smoldering interest.

If it took playing dirty to get her daughter what she wanted for Christmas…well then, dirty she’d play. Time to get out the good bra—the one that pushed her breasts together to form some serious cleavage—and her lowest cut, form-fitting sweater and put her boobs to work convincing a certain vain caribou he wanted to play the part.

The next day, Kyle took the day off work. Being an electronics specialist for the clan meant he kept busy. There were always things needing fixing, from surveillance cameras to computer networks to helping Reid program his latest phone—because a certain alpha had a tendency of pitching his at the wall when he didn’t like the news. While not a computer programmer, he did have a knack for wiring—and loved to make things go boom. A skill he didn’t have much use for now that he’d retired from the military.

Except for holidays. He put together some kick ass light displays.

Today, however, Kyle intended to perform work of a different kind. He took himself bright and early to the parade headquarters. Not because he’d changed his mind. No way was he playing Rudolph. However, given he was a master of all things electrical, he thought he could perhaps redeem himself by volunteering to help with lights and sound effects.

Sounded altruistic. Problem was, Kyle knew the real reason
he arrived at the community center bright and early—and, yes, eleven o’clock was early for his ass to get moving. But he managed it, with a few cups of coffee. After all, he wanted to impress a certain cougar.

Since he’d met Crystal the night before, she’d not left his mind—at all. Ever heard that expression, ‘Hey, baby, you must be tired because you’ve been running in my mind all night’? Yeah that totally applied to him. Kind of baffling really. Kyle usually didn’t give women who exited his line of sight much of a second thought. Usually. Yet not this time.

She’d completely dissed him. Shown him no respect, not an ounce of interest. And yet…

I have to see her again.

Something about the cougar—her scent, appearance, hell, even her attitude—drew him.

Given he didn’t know where she hung out in her free time, or lived, he figured the best way to bump into her again was at parade central, which for those unfamiliar with Kodiak Point meant the community center in the heart of town. Probably the largest building beside Beark Enterprises.

Given shifters needed lots of exercise, especially in the case of the young ones, a safe place to expend energy was needed. Hence the reason the space was truly grand. Boasting an Olympic-sized pool, a few gymnasiums, an indoor running track, as well as a massive community hall—because shifters did so love a good ol’ fashioned family reunion or wedding—the place had it all. Along with a massive garage area, which was where the various floats were parked as people worked on them.

Now some folks were probably thinking, small town, rinky-dink floats.

Stop right there. Given winter, especially the time around Christmas, saw the bulk of their day revolve in darkness, keeping busy was paramount. You didn’t want to let those pesky doubts wiggle their way in. (Mission #417: Don’t let the darkness turn you psychotic.)

To battle dark thoughts, what better way than some friendly rivalry? It was also a chance to show off some creative talent while the shadowy hours ticked away. And there was an element of pride, of course, in presenting the most awesome float around.

Given there were only a few hundred inhabitants, the fact they could boast seventeen floats plus a kick-ass Santa sleigh, was downright incredible.

But a pain in the furry ass to manage.

The problem was a bunch of animals cooped together, competing for title of most wicked float, could result in a zoo-like atmosphere. Or at least it had in previous years. It was a reason why Kyle tended to avoid the place this time of the year, lest he get embroiled in an overzealous feud. Like the year when the snowfoxes had their Winter Wonderland float insulted by the brown bears, whose contribution that year was a giant Christmas dinner display. Ever see a four-foot turkey leg take out a copse of fir trees? It was less traumatizing than watching the snowfox nimbly jump on the swinging Styrofoam thigh and launch itself at the bear’s head, who let out a god-awful girly scream—which Buster had yet to live down. It started a fake snow and even faker food fight.

As Kyle glanced around, he was amazed by the fact people seemed to work in harmony. Or at least weren’t nagging at each other. Was it Crystal’s doing, or had the town gotten infected with a dose of goodwill—in the form of Jackson lacing the Nanaimo bars with pot again? That resulted in a massive shortage of snacks all around town as chips and sugary goods got consumed in ridiculous amounts. It also led to a few bloody battles as people duked it out for the last Oh Henry chocolate bar and the only pint of ice cream left in the frozen aisle at the grocery store.

For those wondering, Kyle won in both cases.

But Kyle didn’t really care that, for once, things appeared to run smoothly. Kyle was on a mission; mission #735 to convince a certain cougar to give him a chance. #734? Oh, that one had to do with getting some carrot muffins—a dozen for breakfast and rare this time of the year, given their one jackrabbit family had a tendency of stockpiling—and a frozen banana and strawberry smoothie. Mission accomplished.

Craning his head left then right, Kyle perused the vast room until he spotted her. Just as hot as before. Holding on to a clipboard, intent expression on her face, wearing indecently tight jeans—his favorite kind—and a tight knit shirt molding the most perfect breasts, Crystal didn’t immediately notice him.

So he stared at her. Nothing like kicking an animal’s instinct into gear. He doubted her cat would let her ignore his determined gaze for long.

Wrong.

She didn’t whip around to stare back. He focused harder, studying her every feline move, the way the ponytail tickled the back of her neck. Mmm, that exposed neck was tempting.

While she engaged many people, she never once turned his way. Perhaps her predatory instincts were defective.

Or she doesn’t consider you a threat,
snorted his beast.

He really needed to work on the mission to improve his reputation. This was unacceptable.

He didn’t give up. He stared and stared, ignoring the amused glances of others. He wouldn’t let her win. And finally, aha, her gaze strayed his way. He shot her his most engaging grin. It flopped as her eyes swept past him and she pretended not to see him.

He frowned. This was new. Usually when he smiled, people smiled back. Had he lost his touch? Was his smile broken?

Mission #736: Check status of panty-dropping grin.

He directed his best smile at a gaggle of mothers chatting in a group beside a gingerbread house float—made of real gingerbread and candy. Sugar rush heaven for kids and adults alike.

But back to his hundred-watt smile. Eyelashes fluttered, flirty smiles replied, and one even waved at him.

Mission accomplished.

Everything was working fine on his end, so why did Crystal seem immune?

She wandered away from him, and he lost sight of her behind a giant Frosty the Snowman rendition.

After adjusting himself, because a man didn’t chase after a woman without first making sure he still owned his balls, he followed.

His excuse: he needed her to assign him a task.

Real reason:
Want to get closer.
A simple need, but a strong one that didn’t just have elements of the man demanding it, but his caribou too. It seemed his beast was intrigued by the cougar—a predator of his kind.

I always did like to court danger.

The garage buzzed as various townsfolk worked on the floats. A radio somewhere played Christmas music—a crooning melody that talked about a white Christmas. Never a problem this time of year.

Reaching the big snowman, he turned the corner, only to rein in a scowl of disappointment. Where had she gone to? With all the various scents crowding the place, he couldn’t track her, not that his sense of smell was the greatest. That was more of a canine trait.

Tenacious when on a mission, Kyle didn’t give up. He wandered around and found himself offering a hand to the folks setting up a manger scene, which for some reason required him to staple some tinsel to a two-by-four. On the Grinch float, he slapped on some duct tape to hold down some wires. He even crawled under a trailer to find a loose connection that, once spliced, caused the lights to erupt in blinding brilliance, which in turn resulted in a small cheer from the group working on it.

During his various tasks, Kyle didn’t run into Crystal, but he did catch the occasional glimpse. Problem was, by the time he was done with his latest helpful stint and had moved in her direction, she’d disappeared again.

Damned woman. Can’t she stay still for just five minutes?

Nope. And then she utterly disappeared. He scouted the whole room without finding a trace. That was when he should have called it quits. Left. Maybe gone and grabbed a beer and flirted with someone else.

Not this man on a mission.

By damn, he’d shown up at the crack of not even noon to see her, and he would find her. With some help. He stuffed his pride in his pocket, promised it a treat later, and sauntered over, casual like of course, to ask Ursa, Reid’s grandmother, if she’d seen the girl.

Her eyes twinkled. “Why, Kyle, don’t tell me there’s finally a lady who is immune to your considerable charms?”

Yeah, it baffled him too. “We got off on the wrong hoof.”

“So I hear. Have you changed your mind about playing the part of Rudolph?”

Kyle almost squirmed under Ursa’s intent gaze. He’d served under the toughest rhino around in the military. He could surely withstand the laser-like stare of one old lady. He did—barely. “No.”