Timberman Werebear (Saw Bears Book 3) (3 page)

Denison was dog tired. The kind of exhausted that seeped into his bones and made him want to sleep for a full twenty-four hour block of time. He’d focused on work today to keep his mind off Danielle. He’d spent half the night awake, wondering if he’d dreamed her at Sammy’s, but from the concerned look on his brother’s face this morning, she’d definitely been there.

Brighton worried too damned much. He waffled between finding amusement in Denison’s love live—or lack thereof—to fretting like a mother hen that Danielle was going to break him in half again. Well, she wasn’t. Denison wasn’t going to let her get that close. He’d even protected himself by calling up to Sammy’s and cancelling his gig next weekend, so there was no chance of seeing her in town since he wouldn’t be there. Sure, he and the boys were headed up to the Lumberjack Wars competition the newly opened sawmill in Saratoga had organized, but it was off in the woods and miles away from a risk of running into her.

His Bronco lurched side to side as he maneuvered around a pair of potholes so deep he could probably spit in them and hit magma. Last week’s rains had washed out the roads worse than they usually were. He was caked in dirt and sweat, and his muscles twitched from the exertion of working every daylight hour with his crew, trying to keep on top of lumber deadlines so they could give themselves enough time to take a day off tomorrow and escort the girls, Brooke and Skyler, to their first lumberjack competition.

Drew was laid out like a corpse in the back seat, snoring softly with his yellow hardhat draped over his face, and Brighton stared out the window in the passenger’s seat as Denison followed Kellen’s white lifted pickup truck down the rugged terrain back toward Asheland Mobile Park. Home was situated in the valley between this mountain and the next. Through the tinted window ahead, he could make out Kellen and his mate, Skyler, as they tipped their heads together for a kiss.

Denison dragged his gaze back to the dirt road disappearing under the nose of his Bronco. Their affection had never bothered him before, but it was different now with all his emotions stirred up by Danielle’s unexpected arrival in town. He gripped the wheel and clenched his teeth. There she was again, clouding his mind with memories of those sexy lips and how good they’d tasted when he’d been lucky enough to have her.

He turned the radio dial to the only radio station out here that got reception, and an old rock-n-roll classic blared through the speakers. Brighton tossed him the fiftieth worried look for the day, and Denison considered booting him from the Bronco and making his ass walk the rest of the way home. Pitying looks made his bear want to kill things.

By the time he pulled through the back gate behind the other trucks, Brighton had wisely decided to ignore him and keep his attention out the window.

“Drew, wake up,” he muttered as he pulled in front of his trailer. “We’re home.”

Denison didn’t wait for the others to get out of his ride. It wasn’t like he needed to lock his doors around here, so he took his porch steps two-by-two and left them to get out as slowly as they wanted.

He hung his hardhat by the door and stripped his shirt and work boots off on the way to his bedroom. Before the tap was even steaming, he was under the cool jets of water, letting it rinse streams of mud down his torso and arms.

He was a happy person by nature, but ever since last night, he’d been feeling off. It was as if a huge gaping hole had opened in his chest, growing bigger and bigger until it threatened to swallow up the good parts about him. That’s what love had done to him. That’s why he would never allow that worthless emotion to taint him again. Tagan had found his mate in Brooke, and Kellen had found Skyler, but that didn’t mean every grizzly shifter found a partner. They were the exception to the rule. Most stayed in bachelor groups, fucked humans when the need to mate became too much, and went their entire lives without finding a true mate. Lady bear shifters were rare. Not many survived in vitro, and Turning women was frowned upon. If women weren’t strong enough, and dominant enough, their inner grizzlies would maim them from the inside out.

He’d messed up with Danielle—allowed himself to bond with her. Allowed his grizzly to choose a fragile human as a potential mate, when he should have been bedding her, then running for the hills like every other male of his kind would’ve done. Well, maybe not every male. He thought of Kellen and Tagan and how they lived and breathed to make their mates happy. Hell, Denison loved Brooke and Skyler like they were his own blood-siblings and would die for either one of them without hesitation. And damn it all, a greedy, needy, pathetic little part of him wanted what Tagan and Kellen had. He wanted to feel like they did and have his devotion returned.

Danielle was a runner, though. History proved it, and she had shown him she hadn’t changed one bit when she took off last night in a plume of tire grit.

With a growl, he forced her from his mind and concentrated on soaping his body. Of course, he was then contending with his raging boner that seemed to spring to life whenever he thought of Danielle, but as tempting as it was to take himself in hand and stroke out a release, the knot of tension would no doubt still be in his shoulders after he emptied himself into the water running down the drain. Plus, now that Danielle was back in his life and sexier than ever, a steamy shower jack-off session just didn’t seem as fulfilling as it had two days ago.

He pressed the palms of his hands against the cool plastic shower tiles and glared at the cracked grout between. She’d ruined everything.

With a sigh, he hit the faucet and stepped out of the shower, then promptly ignored his two day scruff. From what he remembered, Danielle hadn’t liked to kiss him when he wasn’t clean shaven. He’d rubbed her raw with a couple of marathon make-out sessions, one of which had led to the first time he’d slipped his finger into her. And there was his dick again, making a tent of his towel. With a growl, he flipped off the razor that sat waiting on the rim of his sink and headed for the bedroom.

He couldn’t stomp his feet in here like he was tempted to do, on account he’d probably fall through the squishy spots in the old laminate flooring. He yanked open the top drawer of his dresser to make up for it, then dressed in a huff.

The shower was supposed to reinstate his happy demeanor, but it had failed miserably. Tagan and Brooke were cooking for the crew tonight, though, and if his sniffer wasn’t lying, that was spaghetti and garlic bread he smelled wafting through the drafty windows of his trailer.

By the time he made his way outside and down the porch steps, the Ashe crew was gathered around the fire pit at the end of the road. He shook out the last of the water drops from his hair and mussed the top, then jogged toward the others. His shoulders relaxed as he settled into an eye-scorching green plastic lawn chair by the fire with his plate piled high with pasta, mixed vegetables, and finger-singeing hot garlic bread. Leaning over, he grabbed a beer from the red cooler between him and Brighton, and handed his brother one, too. Tops popped, he clinked his bottle against his brother’s in silent cheers like Dad had always done before every meal when they were growing up. Then he took a long swig and dug in.

It was amazing how a satisfied stomach after a hard day of work could change his mood. It was that or the banter of his crew that made for an easy distraction. Kellen wrapped his arm around his passing mate’s waist and pulled Skyler into his lap, then whispered something into her ear, causing her to giggle.

Denison smiled at the easy love they’d found and took another pull on his beer. Leaning back, he arched his neck toward the sky and stared at the slashes of airplane contrails that crisscrossed the summer sky.

“What the hell is that?” Bruiser asked.

Denison snapped his head down and frowned at the giant, shiny, silver RV bumping toward the trailer park. And hauling that highfalutin home on wheels was none other than Danielle’s green jeep.

“Shee-yit,” Denison drawled, sitting forward and draping his elbows on his knees. He needed about a dozen more beers to deal with whatever hell was headed his way.

“Is that…” Tagan squinted at the jeep. “Is that Danielle?”

“Badger’s back?” Bruiser crowed.

Kellen was staring over his mate’s shoulder at the approaching vehicle with a calculating look that said he was just going to be a casual observer and not get involved, but Skyler gave a tentative wave to the approaching vehicle from his lap. Out of all of them, she was probably the nicest.

Danielle waved back. She braked and turned off the car, then slid out in what had to be the tightest pair of jeans ever constructed. They clung to her curves in a way that made his belly tighten and his balls swell. Denison would’ve given his least favorite nut to peel those off her and see if she still liked shaving her lady parts like she used to. Damn, he regretted his decision not to jerk off in the shower.

Haydan whistled, so Denison whacked his knuckles into the guy’s stomach. Haydan
oofed
air, and his stupid catcall got stuck in his throat. Served him right.

“Hi, fellas,” Danielle called as she sauntered toward the fire.

“Hey, Badger,” Drew called out, waggling his blond eyebrows. “What are you doing way out in our neck of the woods?”

“Oh, geez, no one has called me Badger in so long. Drew, Kellen, Haydan, Bruiser, Tagan.” She greeted his friends with a smile. She waved to Brighton and introduced herself to Brooke and Skyler, and never once did that stunning grin fade from her face. Not until her eyes landed on Denison.

He swallowed the pain and stood. “Sit on down. You hungry?”

“I don’t want to take your food—”

“Nonsense,” Kellen said, canting his head at their visitor. “You’re Denison’s mate. Our food is yours.”

“Kellen,” Denison gritted out.

Skyler turned and cupped her mate’s cheeks, then shook her head and kissed him sweetly on the lips.

“I’m your mate?” Danielle looked partly baffled and entirely uncomfortable with that wordage.

“You remember Kellen,” Denison explained. “He don’t say things like other people do. I’ll get you a plate.”

God, he wished the whole damned crew hadn’t been around to witness his downward spiral after Danielle left. They’d all been big fans of hers, once upon a time. From the way Haydan was grinning like an idiot, as if he was enjoying the show, Denison suspected maybe they still thought she was all right. Fan-friggin-tastic.

****

Danielle was wearing her poker face as best as she could, but inside, she was shaking like a leaf in a windstorm. Memories of days at the lake with this wild batch of boys—now men—had her feeling like she was home in a place she’d never seen before. Four years ago, they’d lived all over and around Saratoga, only coming together when someone was throwing a keg party in an overgrown field, or for night-muddin’, or Friday nights at Sammy’s bar to watch Denison and Brighton play, or really any excuse for them to get together. Through the years, she had thought about the men around the fire who talked to her now like she’d never left. But she’d imagined they’d all moved on and made something of themselves. She most definitely didn’t envision them forming some kind of moonshiner commune in the middle of the wilderness. From where she stood, none of them had changed. Not one little bit.

And Denison… God, her heart lurched into her throat, constricting her windpipe until her chest hurt to draw breath. He was beautiful, if a manly woodsman could be called that. Hair damp like he’d just showered, threadbare black shirt holding onto his broad shoulders, and that sexy scruff he wore on his face now. She hadn’t ever been attracted to men with facial hair, but damn, could Denison wear it. He was all sex appeal and dove-colored smoldering eyes as he watched her warily. He sat the edge of his seat like he would bolt at any moment, and when he offered her his chair, she thought he’d do just that. Instead, he piled spaghetti and fixings on a plate and offered it to her at arm’s length, as if he were afraid she might try to touch him.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

The moment was so surreal she had to anchor herself in it so she wouldn’t think it was a dream come tomorrow. She clenched her hands until her nails pressed painfully against her palms to remind herself this was really happening. All of these familiar faces and personalities…and Denny. Shit. She blinked rapidly to stop the stupid burning sensation behind her eyes. She hadn’t thought of him as Denny in a long time. Anger had made her heart tuck away the term of endearment. She blamed the boys for calling her Badger again.

“Where did you get the nickname?” the blond woman with open, smiling blue eyes asked.

“Uh, Denny came up with it.”

Denison snapped his head up, and Danielle closed her eyes, furious with herself for letting his nickname slip. “What I meant to say is, Denison gave it to me a long time ago.”

“On account of her being tenacious,” Drew said with a shit-stirring smile. “She followed
Denny
around town to all his gigs for three weeks, quietly stalking him until he was so head over heels in l—”

“That’s good,” Denison said, his furious gaze dipping to the toe of his boots as he leaned against a make-shift buffet table made of rough, unstained wood.

“Wait, you and Denison dated?” Brooke asked, eyes round as a disbelieving smile crooking her lips.

Danielle was going to kill Mr. Reynolds. Slowly. “Yes,” she choked out, then cleared her throat. “For a minute.”