Bear and Baby_A Shifters in Love_Fun & Flirty Romance Read online

  Table of Contents

  Bear and Baby

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  About the Author

  About Shifters in Love

  Thank You!

  BEAR AND BABY

  A SHIFTERS IN LOVE: FUN & FLIRTY ROMANCE

  Elsa Jade

  WEBSITE | NEW RELEASE ALERT | FACEBOOK

  It's high summer in Angels Rest...

  With her very practical accounting degree in hand, Brandy Wick had a simple wish: to finally be normal. After growing up all but orphaned as one of the “weird Wick sisters”—witches, if anyone believed in those—she was determined to find a regular life in the big anonymous city. But while passing through the small desert town of Angels Rest, a passionate encounter with a sexy fella in snug Wranglers left her with an extraordinary problem…

  Bear shifter Mac Montero just wanted to rebuild his clan’s standing in the shifter community after a tragic betrayal left the bears pariahs in their own lands. He has to prove he’s strong, steady, and trustworthy—and devoted to the secrets of his dangerous world. But then a sweet temptation from his past returns…with a shocking surprise.

  Now the Montero cousins and weird Wick sisters are discovering, in the shadow of Mesa Diablo, paranormal is the new normal! If they can believe in the magic of love that fated them to be mates…

  A new Fun & Flirty trilogy in the world of the “Wolves of Angels Rest”

  BEAR AND BABY June 2018

  BACHELOR BEAR July 2018

  BARELY BEAR August 2018

  Claim the very first Wolf of Angels Rest: HERO for free!

  And find all the Fun & Flirty books at ShiftersInLove.com

  Copyright © 2018 by Elsa Jade

  Cover design by Willsin Rowe

  Editing by Razor Sharp Editing

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as factual. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be scanned, reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Chapter 1

  “Do you see him yet?” Brandy craned her neck, but the corner table she and her sisters had chosen in the back of the roadhouse didn’t offer much in the way of views.

  Actually, the whole town of Angels Rest—plopped down in the high desert scrub at the base of brooding Mesa Diablo—didn’t offer much in the way of views anywhere.

  “I can’t see anything,” Gin grumbled. She peered out through the crimson fringe of her overgrown bangs like the rebellious baby sister she’d always been, even though she was the youngest by a mere ten minutes. “Who made these guys so big?”

  “You know why they’re big,” Rita said with the serene poise she’d cultivated as the eldest of the triplets. Her sleek auburn bob framed her deep brown gaze as she scanned the wall of broad shoulders and tight asses aimed their way. The males to whom the shoulders and asses belonged were focused on a TV over the bar—some sports-ball-testosterone-fest that interested Brandy about as much as the display of physiques.

  Which was to say, not at all. She’d already had the finest shoulder-asses-and-everything-in-between combo to be found in Angels Rest the first time—and last time—she was here.

  And look where that had gotten her.

  Right back in the same podunk town, after she’d told herself she’d never see its dusty, dinky like again. But returning to Angels Rest—just until she got what she wanted—was the only chance she had left to get her life back on track.

  And not just her life…

  She rubbed her damp palms down the skirt of her sundress, warping the cheerful flowers across her thighs. “He’s not coming,” she fretted.

  “He did before,” Gin muttered, stirring her cocktail counterclockwise with needless vigor. “Repeatedly, from what I hear.”

  Brandy shot her sister an incredulous look. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”

  “That’s why we’re here,” Rita soothed. “So you can forget this whole thing ever happened. That is what you want, right?” She fixed her too-perceptive stare on Brandy.

  Who forced herself not to squirm. “Not forget, exactly.” She rubbed at the back of her neck under her messy-cute bun. The wide-open land around here seemed to be forcing some truths out of her. “Just…change things.”

  “Oh, you’ll definitely get change,” Gin said. “We’re in a town full of shapeshifters, after all.”

  Brandy and Rita hissed her to silence, casting cautious looks at the men—and a few women. Though the Four Corners region had equal quadrants of Utah, Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona, Angels Rest wasn’t exactly a hotbed of gender equality. It was, however, crawling with shapeshifters.

  And at least one of them had a very hot bed, as Brandy knew from personal experience tearing up those sheets…

  Nope, no peering longingly into the way-back machine. What had happened was in the past, which couldn’t entirely be forgotten, but she needed a way forward. And if that way went through Angels Rest—and right through Mac Montero—she’d do what she had to do.

  But attracting the attention of all these hollering males, knowing at least some of the drinkers at Gypsy’s Roadhouse could change themselves into wolves or bears or other deadly predators, wouldn’t be smart. Most people didn’t believe shapeshifters existed in real life, and that was exactly the way the shifters of Angels Rest liked it.

  Brandy, however, knew the truth, and she’d told her sisters.

  Not that Mac had told her.

  That betrayal curdled in her gut, more sour than the lemon in her overpoured Sidecar cocktail. He’d been willing to take her home, take her to his bed, but he neglected to mention one leeeeeettle detail: the fact he had a tail. Oh, not a long one, probably. Not that she’d actually seen it. She’d been too entranced by the wagging appendage on the front side of his oh so very nice body…

  Dang it! No way-back machining, she’d promised herself.

  Well, whatever. She hadn’t told him all her secrets either.

  “He’ll be here,” Rita said.

  Gin sniffed. “Did Aunt Tilda see it in her magic mirror?”

  At the thought of magic mirrors, a sense of inevitability, as strong and stomach-churning as the mix of alcohol in her glass, swept through Brandy. Goosebumps prickled at her nape and fled down the skin of her bare arms, as if trying to shift her into a silly goose as punishment for what she was about to do. “It’s Friday night in Angels Rest,” she murmured. “There’s nowhere else for him to go.”

  ***

  There was nowhere else for him to go.

  If he was going to redeem the clan’s reputation in Angels Rest, he needed to walk the walk. He had to show up in front of them, show the town how steady, trustworthy, and honorable he and his cousins were, that the bad days were behind them since the clan had banished its corrupt leaders.

  But even without the guarded animal
inside him, Mac would’ve sensed the serious side eye cast his way as he shouldered through the open door at Gypsy’s. Memories in Angels Rest were as long as Mesa Diablo’s shadow edging toward the roadhouse as the summer sun descended. The town—its shifters and their allies—had been badly hurt by the troubles with the Kingdom Guard zealots who’d wanted to destroy all non-humans.

  After stealing their secrets.

  Eyes slightly dazzled from the evening glare, nose twitching from the heavy scents of hops and yummy fried things, Mac stuffed the wariness deep as he gave out a few chin-up nods. And got a few nods back, at least from those not focused on the Friday night game.

  Baby steps. As frustrating as it was, he’d take what he could get.

  “Can I get a beer?” He pushed a five across the bar toward Gypsy.

  She slid a tall boy back, not returning his smile as she went back to polishing glasses, her full-sleeve tattoos twisting as she moved. She was the third “Gypsy” to run the roadhouse, and all the women of the line had the same ropey arms that looked as ready to wring necks as dish rags. The various eyes in her tattoos watched him with more friendliness than she did.

  She’d been on the front lines against the Kingdom Guard.

  He stifled a sigh that was only the barest whisper of the angry roar he wanted to let loose. What did he have to do to prove the clan’s innocence? No shifters were good at rolling over and exposing their bellies.

  Resting his elbow on the bar, he angled his body away from the aggression on the TV screen and the more immediate threat in Gypsy’s stare. He was a good, upstanding shifter citizen of Angels Rest. He would not start a bar fight while hollering that they needed to be nice to him now, dammit…

  He lifted the beer bottle to his lips, determined not to make eye contact with anything that might trigger him.

  And froze.

  As his gaze locked on the last person he ever expected to see again.

  Chapter 2

  Crap, he’d been thinking about innocence and exposed bellies, and here she was, like he’d conjured her out of nothing.

  The bottle sagged unnoticed in his hand while Mac let his gaze roam her hungrily. She was sitting in profile to him, unaware of his presence, so he had a moment to study her. Not quite three years ago, he’d first seen her traipsing down the side of the road outside town…

  Wearing this same dress.

  His eyes narrowed into hunting focus. The dress had flowers on the skirt draped over her thighs. The fantastical petals—not a poppy, not a rose, not anything he’d ever seen in any garden—were a bright, cheerful pink, a more day-glo version of her strawberry-blond hair. Shoulder-length tendrils slipped free from the knot atop her head and coiled loosely above her bare shoulders. With no sleeves and a vee neck, that dress had been too skimpy for the spring weather back then, with the nip of winter still in the air.

  He’d wanted to nip her the moment he’d caught sight of her jaunty walk, the cherry petal hem flicking around her knees.

  That glimpse of carefree happiness had called to him. It had been a bad time in his life, real bad. The clan floundered in chaos, lost in the midst of their leader’s betrayal. The chaos was only made worse by the change of the season.

  Spring always set fires in shifter blood.

  When he’d stopped his truck behind her, she’d turned, and her smile had hit him like a honeybee’s sting—a painful warning and an irresistible promise of sweetness to come.

  Which way you going? he’d asked, so gallantly. She’d been on the Greyhound that zoomed past Angels Rest, on her way to visit a relative who’d just recently moved to town, she’d told him. Since the bus didn’t actually go through town—nothing of note went through town—she was walking the rest of the way. But if he didn’t mind giving her a lift…

  He’d given her a lift, all right. To his rented cottage on the edge of town. Up against the door of his room. Pinned to the wall of his cramped shower. Riding his chest so he could kiss her again and again. The pink of her discarded dress had brightened the foot of his bed like the first flowers of the spring mating season.

  One heady afternoon, and then she’d pulled the dress back over her head.

  Just passing through, she’d explained. She had a job across the country in New York City waiting for her now that she’d graduated and she was excited to get going.

  Considering he’d been mired in the collapse of his clan, her blithe freedom had stung like a thousand wasps, his impossible, wistful attraction like a dry paper nest crumbling to dust in disappointment.

  Which had been stupid. She’d been just an oblivious city girl, not a shifter’s mate.

  And he was a lesser son of an impoverished, broken clan, so he could just forget about ever finding a mate.

  But here she was again, looking better than ever.

  Back then, the dress had been a little loose on her, as if she hadn’t quite finished growing into it. Now it hugged her curves, skimming the indent of her waist and the flare of her hip, outthrust a bit as she sat with her leg crossed away from him.

  And her breasts were larger. Last time, the little mounds had scarcely filled his palm. Now… Well, in the interests of full disclosure, he’d have to get his hands on her again to be sure, but he knew he’d at least have to spread his fingers this time to contain those luscious mounds. Did she still have the sprinkle of freckles there, like drops of honey down that delicate skin?

  He’d done his damnedest to lick them off.

  He straightened away from the bar, tilting his hips to loosen the sudden uncomfortable restriction in the front of his jeans. There was no reason for his reaction; the spring mating season was past. In fact, the town was gearing up for the Summer Solstice Jubilee. If he was restless, it was only because his crew at the landscaping company was between gigs at the moment, and he hadn’t been able to sweat off his aggravation with the slow pace of repairing the clan’s relationship with the community.

  If only he could sweat off somewhere else…

  Had he made that noise aloud, that low, hungry growl?

  He didn’t think so, but she turned her head slowly to meet his gaze. Her cinnamon-brown eyes widened, and the blush that swept over her cheeks was as cherry-pink as her lips.

  Shouldn’t have skipped lunch today.

  His work boots seemed to take on a life of their own, as if the steel toes were locked on a magnet he couldn’t resist. In four steps, he was standing beside her table, looking down at her.

  When she tilted her head to keep her eyes on his, the red silk flower in her hair glinted, revealing the single long, straight pin that held the strawberry-blond coils in place, exposing the pretty arch of her neck. Aw hell, he wanted to yank that flower right out, strip that achingly familiar dress right off, lay her across the table—

  The stereo sound of other throats clearing made him realize his boots were right up against the feet of her chair, his knees about one wet paper napkin’s width away from pressing into her pink-flowered thigh. Another step and he’d be spreading her wide.

  Her cheeks flushed almost as red as the flower in her hair.

  “Mac,” she said softly. “I… Wow. I can’t believe… I mean, you’re here.”

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” he countered. “What are you doing?”

  “Oh. Just having a drink with my sisters.” She waggled her fingers around the table. “Rita, Gin, this is Mac. Mac, my sisters.”

  He forced himself to stop staring at her and follow her gesture. He could’ve guessed they were sisters. They looked cut from the same mold but colored in differently, as if a red filter had been applied over a blonde, a brunette, and a goth. With effort, he twisted his surprise-slackened jaw into something that hopefully looked like a welcoming smile. “Nice to meet you.” Despite his best effort, his gaze slid back to Brandy. “Of all the roadhouses near interstate highways that connect to New York, you ended up here?”

  Her lips curled inward, and her lashes dropped for a moment, hiding t
he spice brown of her eyes. “You remembered?”

  Dull heat burned in his neck. He remembered everything. “You were pretty thrilled about it. Mentioned it a couple times.”

  The goth sister with the too-red hair—Gin—snickered. “Oh yeah, we heard a lot about”—she drew out a yokel accent—“New York City.”

  Rita, the prim-looking brunette, tsked. “It was a great opportunity.”

  Mac stiffened. “Was?”

  With a quick glance at her sisters, Brandy gave him a smile that seemed almost as pained as his own. “I’m actually freelance now, doing specialized audits and forensic accounting.”

  He tapped one finger against the beer bottle still clutched in his hand. “That’s”—so completely not like his life of digging in the dirt—“great.”

  “Yeah.” When she looked down at her drink, the red flower in her hair glinted at him again. “I, uh, was looking for a change—”

  Gin coughed. “Speaking of which, we were just leaving.” She shoved to her feet, her chair squeaking louder than the TV blather behind him. Her all-black ensemble seemed odd not just for Angels Rest but for anywhere in the summer.

  It took everything he had to step back from Brandy’s side. “Well, it was a surprise to see you again.”

  Rita stood also, smoothing down her pure-white blouse, which was almost as out of place as the all black. She grabbed a pair of forearm crutches and slid her hands through the cuffs. “Oh, Brandy is staying.”

  He clipped a glance at Brandy. With her brows furrowed upward, she looked like she dearly wanted to follow her sisters.

  Gin leaned past him to buss her sister’s cheek. “We won’t wait up for you.” When she straightened, her elbow caught him in the gut.

  But he’d been digging ditches with his crew for almost two years, showing the town that the clan was willing to work hard and stay humble to regain their trust. One girly elbow in his liver wasn’t going to kill him or even leave a bruise.