Her Bah Humbug Bear (A BBW Paranormal Holiday Romance) (2 page)

“Here you go.” She handed him the box and he quickly assembled it. She watched closely so she’d know how to take it apart when the holidays were over. If there was anything her aunt had taught her, it was to be independent.  Not to say, Mercy didn’t long for a man to do those things for her. She was just realistic. A curvy girl like her rarely got the guy who was thoughtful, loving, and caring.

Heck, a curvy girl like herself rarely got the man.

“I need a saw from my truck. Why don’t you get some water ready?” Dirk moved out of the living room and was out the door before she could answer. Going into the kitchen, she retrieved the large watering can she used for her outdoor plants during the summer months.

She watched as Dirk cut off the lower branches of the tree and sawed the end off the trunk, mesme1rized by the play of muscles under his long-sleeved t-shirt. He’d discharged his coat when he’d returned from his truck.

“Do you work for Marcus?” Marcus was the owner of a multi-acre Christmas tree farm right outside of Riverton. She’d only met the man a few times and then only long enough to exchange pleasantries. As with most bear shifters, he tended to keep to himself. He had set up the lot in town each Christmas since Mercy could remember. She still thought it odd that shifters aged so slowly. The man looked the same way today that he had when Mercy was in high school. She knew Marcus employed Henry every year, but this was the first year she’d ever seen Dirk. In fact, today was the first time she’d ever seen the bear shifter. She really did need to get out more, she thought. Just look what she was missing.

“Yeah. He needed some help this year.” That didn’t exactly answer her question. Was he doing Marcus a favor or was it the other way around? Mercy didn’t claim to know everyone in the county, but she was pretty darn sure some of the more talkative, gossipy, patrons of the library would have mentioned this man to her. He was too dark and too silent not to have been the subject of gossip in the small town of Riverton.

“He’s a very nice man. He donates a Christmas tree to the town every year. This year he’s giving one to the library because our budget has been cut.”

She gave him a perfect opportunity to ask about her work. He didn’t take it. She sighed. Within minutes, the tree was in the stand and watered. He got up and dusted off his legs of his jeans, indicating he was done.

“It’s going to be beautiful,” she said, dragging her attention away from the man and concentrating on the tree. She drew in a lungful of air, inhaling the pine scent.

“Beautiful,” he echoed. He gazed at her, his hooded eyes making it very plain that he was talking about her and not the tree. Mercy felt her cheeks burn.

“What do you want to do with these branches?” In a minute, he had the branches he’d cut off stacked together in his arms.

“I’ll take them.” She covered the distance between them in a couple of steps, holding out her arms.

He refused to give them to her. “You’ll get sap on your clothes.”

Her arms fell to her sides. This was the closest she had been to him, except for those few moments on the tree lot. “If you could put them on the hearth, please.” She hurried over and moved the empty wood box out of the way. He frowned as she moved it and she wondered if he thought it was too heavy for her. Again, the feeling of being protected washed over her.

To cover her embarrassment, she took the coin purse from her pocket again.

“Please let me pay for the tree. And for setting it up for me. It would have been very difficult by myself.”

“Nearly impossible.”

“What?”

“It would have been nearly impossible to have put that tree up by yourself.”

That comment, coming from any other man, would have set her off. She was a card-carrying feminist. Mostly. Could one be a feminist if their insides melted at the first heated gaze a man turned her way?

She cocked her head, hearing a note of concern in his voice. Gathering her courage, she asked, “If you won’t let me pay for the tree, will you stay for dinner? It’s not much, just some beef stew I made in the crock pot this morning.”

“Is that what smells?”

“Excuse me?”

“Shit, I didn’t mean—”

She just had to laugh at his expression when he thought he had insulted her. “I know. I hope it does smell good though.”

“Yeah, it does.” The look in his eyes said he thought she smelled just as good. A tingle started inside her.

Her tongue came out to lick her dry lips. Was this stoic bear flirting with her? “I was going to make some corn bread to go with it.”

Even as she spoke, she saw a shutter drop down over his face. “No. I’ve got to go.” He turned sharply on his heel and grabbed his coat, stalking to the door.

“Of course.” She hurried after him. He opened the door a few seconds before she got there. He stopped abruptly and turned around. Unable to stop her forward momentum, she almost plowed into him. They were so close she could feel his breath on her face. All she had to do was stand on her tiptoes, lean forward just a little, and she could know what his lips would feel like pressed against hers. Not soft. No, his mouth would be hard. And his taste as dark and mysterious as his scent. The angel on her shoulder told her she shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts. She shouldn’t be thinking of kissing this man. This shifter. But she was. She most definitely was. The devil inside her laughed in glee.

And the moment she lifted her glance to his eyes, she knew that he was thinking of kissing her, too, his body bowing as if drawn to hers by an invisible thread.

He straightened abruptly. “Don’t forget to water the tree.”

He was out the door before she could take her next breath.

DAMN, DAMN, DAMN, Dirk cursed as he stomped out of Mercy’s house and slammed into his truck. Throwing the big vehicle in reverse, he tried to get away as quickly as possible but only managed to spin his tires in the thin layer of snow that seemed to always be on the ground lately. Cursing, he rocked it forward then reversed at a more sedate pace. He couldn’t help but take another look at the old Victorian house. She’d closed the door but he saw a movement by the big picture window. No doubt, she was straightening out the branches, preparing the tree for decorating.

Oh, what he wouldn’t have given to have stayed with her. Shared her simple meal. He could have watched as she’d decorated the tree. Watching the sway and bounce of her hips as she climbed up and down the stepladder she’d need to reach the highest branches. Immediately, the thought of her on a ladder tightened his gut. What if she fell?

His bear growled at the thought just as it had when he’d realized her wood box was empty and she’d have to fill it up herself.

Protect. Provide.

All the instincts a bear had to care for its family, its mate.

The wave of loneliness, regret, and pain that he’d been carrying around for decades, washed over him. Never, he thought, never would he be able to do those things. He’d given up that privilege when he’d failed to protect his first family. He’d lost everything years ago. His family. His clan.

He glanced at the clock on the dash and realized he needed to go back to the lot and help Henry close up, but he didn’t know if he could face anyone else today. One handed, he sent a text to the man, saying he was taking off for the day. It was sad to say that Henry was used to his erratic behavior. Even before the incident that had made Dirk retreat from contact with any other living thing, he’d been a loner. Needing only the company of his family to enjoy life.

And when they had been taken away… Dirk’s heart had been ripped from his chest.

He’d been honest with Mercy when he said Marcus had taken him in. The other bear shifter had done him a good turn. When Dirk arrived on the outskirts of Riverton six months ago, he’d been filthy and half-starved, having lived in his bear form for nearly five years, unable to tolerate the continued interaction with humans. Or even other shifters. Marcus had taken one look at him and offered him a warm place to stay and plenty of good hunting grounds. Being rogue, Dirk had learned to make due with whatever game came his way as he’d roamed from place to place. Marcus had offered Dirk the use of a cabin high up on the mountain and a job tending an overgrown patch of trees. It had been a reason to get up in the morning. As Christmas approached, he’d joined the logging team, cutting trees as orders came in from all over the country.

The older bear had a golden touch when it came to evergreens, making money hand over fist during the holiday season. Hell, he’d even started a fresh wreath business. Was that what Mercy planned to do with the leftover branches? Make a wreath for her fireplace or for her front door?  Maybe he could bring her some supplies.

Stop it, he admonished himself. He did not get involved with women, especially humans. It had been almost seven years since he’d sought the company of a female for satisfaction of his and his bear’s most basic instincts. Lust. Need.

He snorted. He hadn’t ever felt need as he had today, triggered by the sound of a shy voice and the touch of a soft hand.

Mate.

No, no, no. Not mate. Woman. Sex. Fuck. That’s all Mercy represented. A way to quench his need.

She wasn’t his mate.

He had no mate. No female would want a bear who had been unable to protect his family. Or who had decimated the pack of wolves who had dared to touch what was his.

****

Dirk pulled into the long driveway leading up to the small cabin he’d called home for the last few months. It really didn’t surprise him to see Marcus making himself at home on the porch that surrounded the house on three sides. There was more square footage on the outside of the dwelling than on the inside.

“Did you have a good day at work, honey?”

Dirk raised his hand and gave the other man a one-finger salute. He knew it was rude, but didn’t care. His insides were in such turmoil he didn’t care if he pissed off the man sitting before him. If he kicked him out that would solve his latest problem. He’d have a damn good reason for leaving Riverton and the dark haired woman who’d awakened his bear.

He opened his front door, uncaring if Marcus followed him in or left. He’d prefer it if the man left. He needed to shift and run off some of the energy sizzling inside him. He decided he needed to take a trip to the city fast. Slake his thirst, get his animal back under control. If a shy, curvy librarian was all it took to arouse the bear to such heights, it was damn time to seek out female companionship.

Hearing Marcus enter the house behind him, he headed to the kitchen. The quickest way to get rid of the male bear was to feed him. Marcus was older than dirt but still had yet to learn how to cook a decent meal. Dirk shed his coat and headed to the refrigerator. There he took out the pan of lasagna he had made last night. He also took out the makings of a salad and the last loaf of homemade bread. Looked like another trip to the bakery on his way home tomorrow.

There was just enough food for both bears—if they had second helpings of salad and ate the whole loaf of bread. He couldn’t begrudge the other man any of the food. He’d given Dirk more than a full belly and roof over his head. He’d given him a reason to live again.

And our mate.

He cursed at his bear. Yeah, if Dirk acknowledged the pull, then, yes, inadvertently, Marcus had made it possible for Dirk to meet Mercy. That wasn’t to say it wouldn’t have happened someday. His bear snorted. Dirk’s trips to town had been few and far between before Marcus had opened the Christmas tree lot for the season. Dirk had come very close to going rogue. He’d lived alone so long that he’d forgotten how to be around humans. A very dangerous thing for a shifter, especially a bear shifter.

As he started chopping the vegetables, he thought of the meal Mercy had offered him. The stew she’d cooked had smelled wonderful. He’d noticed the tantalizing scent when he’d first stepped into her house. Would she like his lasagna? He was a fair cook, having helped in the kitchen since he was a small cub. His parents had tried to prepare him for life.

And he’d failed them. His hand tightened on the handle of the knife until it broke. The metal pierced his skin and he cursed. Throwing the remnants into the garbage, he ran his hand under water, washing away the blood.

Dirk grabbed a towel to wrap around his hand as Marcus came into the kitchen. The other bear had a surprisingly cheerful disposition given how old he was. Bears, and shifters in general, grew cranky as the years continued to stack up, one upon another. Especially those who had never found their mate. Dirk knew Marcus had seen some shit throughout his long life that would have put a lesser bear in the ground—or hiding in a cave. Like Dirk had.

“You have to let it go, man.” Marcus stood at the doorway, his arms crossed across his chest, his stance wide. Dirk was a big man, but Marcus was massive.

Unwrapping his hand, he saw the cut had already stopped bleeding, the skin knitting together.

“My family is dead, how can I let it go.”

“You didn’t kill them.”

“I wasn’t there. I didn’t protect them.”

Marcus let out a deep sigh and crossed the room to lay a comforting hand on Dirk’s shoulder. “You can’t protect someone twenty-four hours a day. I know, believe me.”

While Marcus was always friendly, that friendliness only went so far, as was typical with almost any type of shifter. That was the first brief glimpse Dirk had seen of the bear’s personal past life. Strangely, Dirk felt a small amount of hurt disappear at the other bear’s statement. As if the burden, once shared, lessened it somehow. “I killed those wolves.”

“It was an honorable kill. Justifiable. You gave those other families closure. Now take it for yourself.”

The wolves who had killed Dirk’s parents and two younger siblings had terrorized the shifter community for six months before Dirk finally tracked them down. No shifter anywhere would have condemned Dirk for his actions. The wolves were rogue, dangerous, more animal than man by the time he’d caught up with them.

Dirk leaned against the counter and threw away the towel. In his heart, he knew Marcus was speaking the truth. But, he also knew there was a dark spot on his soul that could never be erased. “That doesn’t mean—”

“That you deserve a mate? Happiness? It damn well does, Dirk. I would give anything to be in your shoes right now. I’ve spent years waiting for mine and she’s never come my way.”

Dirk winched inside at Marcus’s bitter tone. “She’s too pure, too—”

“She’s your mate.”

“She deserves someone other than me.”

Marcus got in his face, bear to bear. “You are a damn fool if you believe that. You’re a damn fool if you think you can just walk away from her. Watch as she takes another man to her bed, gives birth to another male’s cubs.”

Dirk growled and went for Marcus’s throat. He slammed the older bear against the kitchen wall. Color faded from his vision, a sure sign his bear was about to take control. He wasn’t worried about hurting the other bear. Marcus outweighed him by a good thirty pounds. But the rage that engulfed him at the thought of Mercy with another man—he let go of Marcus and stepped back.

Dirk was thankful the other bear didn’t grin or say I-told-you-so. Or maybe that would have been better than the almost pitying look he sent Dirk’s way.

“Fuck.” Dirk turned back to the kitchen, stomping across the tile floor to retrieve the lasagna before it became too dried out to eat.

Marcus finished the salad and the two bears sat at the counter to eat. “I’ve got some deliveries that need to be made this week. You up for it?”

“Sure.” Dirk agreed readily. So what if he’d been about to choke the life out of him ten minutes ago? He liked that about his relationship with the older bear. No drama. No crap.

****

Mercy said goodbye to the children who had attended her eleven o’clock Saturday story time. She held them after school and every other Saturday. As much as she loved being around children, she did like having a whole weekend to herself every other week. She’d add more story times once school was out for the semester so that parents could have some extra time to themselves to shop or just enjoy the holiday. It warmed Mercy’s heart to know that the story hour was helping a child’s love of reading grow. She hummed along with the Christmas carols playing softly in the background as she picked up the books the children had left behind, stacking them on a cart to be reshelved later. One of the things she loved most about her small county library was the amount of volunteers that came in each day to help with the mundane tasks such as reshelving and dusting the books. The volunteers ranged from older adults to girl scouts earning their community service badges.

Mercy took any and all willing to work. After all, volunteering at the library when she was a teenager had led to her love of books and ultimately her ideal job.

Her mind quickly wandered as she worked, her thoughts quickly turned to the man she just couldn’t seem to get out of her mind. It had been almost a week since Dirk had helped her with her tree and she hadn’t seen him since. Well, hadn’t seen him in person again. She’d caught glimpses of him as she passed by the tree lot. She just happened to change her route to and from work to include driving past it twice a day. Not that she was stalking him or anything.

So, okay. She was stalking him. Kind of.

She wished she was brave enough to stop her car, get out and talk with the big bear who had caught her interest. But she was too scared. Her aunt’s lessons were ingrained just a tad too deeply for her to break free of her inhibitions. Yet. She had high hopes for herself, she thought with a smile. Baby steps. Like getting her first Christmas tree. And having lustful, naughty thoughts about a bear shifter.

Pushing the cart to the front desk, she smiled at Wilma, the volunteer who had helped her out during story time. She listened with half an ear as the woman helped several young children decide which book they would like to take home. She was sixty and spry, something Mercy hoped to emulate. She had also been happily married for over forty years, raised four children, and was the proud grandmother of three. That was something else Mercy aspired to. A family.

She sighed, knowing that milestone might never be reached.

As she’d gotten older, her hopes had risen when she’d learned more about shifters and mating. Shifters immediately knew their mates, drawn to them by their scent, among other things. Of course as a teen, she’d been horrified that some old shifter would want to marry her. But the more she learned about the shifter world—and the older she became—she realized that age made very little difference to a shifter. If a mate was indeed discovered when she was too young, the shifter patiently waited until she grew older. Then, after they mated, the exchange of blood made the non-shifter mate age at the same rate of the shifter.

Wilma wished the children a Merry Christmas and handed them off to their parents. Once they’d left, she turned her attention to Mercy. “So, did you get your tree decorated?”