Husband Fur Hire (Bears Fur Hire Book 1) (3 page)

His boots crunched through the late winter snow as he strode purposefully toward the landing strip where he’d parked his plane.

Meeting her, and allowing his bear see and smell her, was a terrible idea. What did he have to offer anyone? He slept half the year, and the other half was filled with enforcing and running plane deliveries in a mad rush to earn enough money for the food he needed to eat for the next hibernation.

No, she was much better off without knowing he even existed.

Everyone was.

The little girl had been attacked twenty miles outside of Kaltag, and the trapper attacks were within a thirty mile range of that as well, so Ian would start there. If Cole had moved on, he would have a better chance of finding where to if he canvassed the village. McCalls were notorious freeloaders, and unless Cole was going straight wolf, he would be in town begging for food, money, gas for his snow machine, whatever.

There were a dozen old homesteader cabins that had been abandoned out there, too, so he would check those out while he was in the area and hope to get lucky.

Outside of town, he prepped his plane and took off. It was a short flight to Kaltag, and he began circling out from there. From the plane, he could make out two old dilapidated one-roomers through the trees with a lot of animal tracks around them. Cole would’ve traveled here by snow machine, or maybe he’d gone wolf to get way out here.

Another sure sign that Cole had been squatting here and not just passing through was there were no manicured landing strips. Cole would want to make it difficult for Ian to get to his hidey hole, and from way up here, scanning the snowy tundra below, dotted heavily with evergreen trees, Ian was going to have a hard time landing safely.

If he was Cole, he would’ve picked a similar place to hide out.
Think like the prey.
That’s what dad had taught him, Tobias, and Jenner when they’d first shifted at age sixteen. And Dad had been the best tracker there ever was. Any advice Ian had gleaned from him during his youth was now worth more than gold.

He took the last bite of yet another apple and tossed the core onto the pile in the passenger’s seat of his little four-seater plane.

Ian narrowed his eyes at a strip of smoothish landing space, covered in what looked like thinner snow. From the long tracks, someone had used it since the last snowfall to land, so that was going to have to be good enough. He had the skis on the landing gear, but still, one wrong move and his lightweight plane could be smashed to pieces with him in it. Now, he had decent shifter healing, but he sure loved his ride, and he hadn’t crashed yet. A couple of close calls, but nothing too damaging.

He circled around, assessing the makeshift landing strip, and sure enough, there were definitely sled marks in the snow, revealing it was thin enough to land if he took the angle just right. He lined up and dipped the nose slightly, lowering himself slowly to the glittering snow. It would be dark soon, and he needed to make some tracks before nightfall. If Cole was still here, his brothers would’ve likely called to warn him. But if he’d been spending time as a wolf all day, Ian still had a shot at catching him by surprise.

His heart drummed against his sternum as he lifted up enough to straighten out, and his landing gear skied across the snowy straightaway. It was rough and jostled the plane, and at the end, he turned a bit wonky, but it was a better landing than he could’ve hoped for way out here.

It was cold as balls, so he blanketed the plane to make less work for him when he returned. It took time prepping the Cessna, but it would be worth it later, especially if he came back out here after dark.

He tossed the apple cores in the woods for the hungry winter birds to pick up, then pulled on his fox fur hat, sunglasses, and mittens. He could stand the cold a lot better than humans, but Alaska was brutal at night, and any windchill made it even more miserable. Despite the frigid temperatures, this was just how he liked to hunt. Snow made it easy to track anything. Animal scat was stark against the white, and tracks were easy to see and identify. He could read entire stories in the snow if he took the time to interpret the signs.

Ian pulled a giant pack of beef jerky from his backpack and tore into it as he made his way from the plane toward the woods in the direction of the most promising cabin he’d seen from the air.

How was his stomach growling while he was feeding it? Little beggar was always obnoxious until he put on that first twenty pounds.

It was nearly dark when he scented animal fur. He was close to the cabin now, and the tracks in the snow were definitely wolf. He couldn’t have gotten this lucky. It wasn’t possible. Cole wasn’t this stupid to be right out where he could see from a plane.

But when he stepped through to the clearing of the cabin’s yard, low and behold, Cole McCall himself was standing in the doorway, as if he’d been waiting for him.

The hairs on the back of Ian’s neck lifted, and he slowed to a stop just inside of the tree line.

“It ain’t a trap,” Cole drawled out. His head twitched, and his eyes blazed for a moment before they dimmed again.

“Cole, you gotta problem, man,” Ian said as he lowered his backpack to the snow beside his boots.

“Clayton?”

Ian nodded once.

It was hard to tell behind Cole’s thick beard, but it looked like his lip ticked once. He inhaled deeply and pushed off the door frame. “Is it death?”

Ian nodded again, then looked around pointedly. The cabin was old, maybe eighty years, and the roof had gone to rot and caved in at some point. “You didn’t pick the best hiding spot. You made it too easy.”

“Yeah, well I wasn’t hiding from you. I was hiding from her.”

“I don’t understand.”

Cole twitched his head again and let off a long, low snarl, then swallowed it down. The hairs lifted on Ian’s arms despite the warm winter jacket. Crazy always heckled his instincts. Crazy was unpredictable and could get a man killed if he wasn’t careful.

“My wolf wants Elyse.”

Now Ian was the one letting off a growl, and he didn’t feel inclined to stifle his as Cole had done.

Cole swallowed audibly. “He settled for the little girl, but she just bought me time. I thought you’d never fucking get here, Silver.”

“You are prepared then?”

Cole uncrossed his arms and nodded. “I know what I am now. I can feel it. Dumbass that I was, I thought I could be saved and outsmart the McCall curse. I thought Elyse could save me. And then I beat on her.”

“Fuck,” Ian muttered in a snarling voice as he tried to keep his head. Everything was red now. Red Cole, red woods, red snow. “You know a wolf bride wasn’t ever going to save you, McCall.”

He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “If it were you, and you thought you could be saved, wouldn’t you try?”

Ian inhaled the mountain air, but it stank of wolf and fur. Cole looked human enough, but he wasn’t in control. His animal even smelled unsettled. “I’ll give you an honorable death if you want it.”

“Even after I hurt the girl?”

“Didn’t say you deserved it, asshole, but I have sympathy for a man losing a war to his animal. You and Lincoln are the least shitty of the McCalls.”

Cole huffed a laugh, though his expression stayed exactly the same. Defeated. “I’ll take that as a compliment coming from you. Can I ask you one last favor?”

“Don’t push your luck.” Ian cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, curiosity piqued. “What is it? Not saying I’ll do it, but I’ll consider it.”

Cole pulled a folded piece of paper from his jeans’ pocket and held it out. “It’s a letter to Elyse. An apology. I’m not safe to give it to her myself.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” In fact, putting Elyse in front of his protective grizzly was the worst idea ever. He’d come to that conclusion over the plane ride here.

“Please, man,” Cole pleaded, uncertainty slashing through his lightening eyes. “Dying will be easier if I know she’ll get this.”

Ian scrubbed his hands down his face and nodded. “Sure.” He approached and took the letter from Cole’s outstretched hand. Maybe he could put it through the post, or pay someone in Galena to deliver it to her. “You ready?”

Cole nodded and pulled his thick sweater over his head as Ian began to shuck his clothes. “Hurry,” he said in a strained voice as his neck snapped back.

“Shit,” Ian muttered as he rushed to undress. His bear would destroy his clothes ripping out of him, and he needed them to get back to the plane frostbite free.

Cole’s Change was instant, more proof of how in control his animal was. It should’ve taken minutes as each bone, tendon, and joint broke and reshaped, but Cole’s wolf exploded out of him and charged before Ian was ready. God, this was going to hurt.

He pushed his Change, but it was hard to focus with Cole’s teeth ripping into him. The snow in front of his face splattered with red. His red. Pain blurred his vision. The snapping of his bones was deafening, and Cole’s wolf was going at him in earnest now, tooth and claw. The law of Alaska was simple. Kill or be killed. His wolf knew why Ian was here, and apex predator shifters didn’t die easy, even if the human side of Cole saw the necessity.

Ian closed his eyes and pushed his Change harder than he ever had. A smattering of pops echoed across the clearing just before millions of stinging needles blasted through his skin and covered his body in a thick, winter coat. He roared his fury at the little, cheating shithead and shook his massive body, dislodging Cole’s teeth from the muscular hump over his shoulder blades. Even skinny and right out of hibernation, he was still ten times the size of the wolf.

Cole charged, but Ian was ready for him now and pissed as all get-out that he was so badly injured going into this. He batted him down and lunged. Engaging, they both snarled and snapped and bit and clawed, ripping into each other in a battle to the death.

It didn’t last long after that. Ian was quick—a skilled killer. Just the snap of his neck, and Cole was done. As Ian paced a tight circle around the body to make sure the wolf’s chest didn’t rise again, a deluge of emotion washed through him. Anger that Cole had talked so freely about hurting Elyse and the little girl. Pity that Cole had tried to save himself with love but had been unsalvageable. Regret that he was the one who had to end a life. Relief that it was done.

Ian forced himself back into his human skin. He wished he could explore these woods as a bear, but there was work to do. He had to bury the dead, or he couldn’t live with the lives he had to take. He had to break through still frozen ground to dig a grave, and he had to make it back to his plane before the wild wolves came out hunting for the night.

But before all of that, he had to make a couple of calls from the satellite phone he’d brought.

The first went to voicemail, as it always did, because his asshole brother, Tobias, didn’t ever bother to pick up his calls. He left a message—a short, sweet, to-the-point warning. Hopefully Tobias would check it at some point.

On the second call, his brother Jenner answered. “What?”

“Hey to you, too.” A soft, impatient rumble filled the line so Ian told him, “I just killed a McCall on order.”

“So?”

“So Miller made a threat against you and Tobias. Just thought I should warn you.”

Jenner made a single clicking sound across the line. “I’m offended you think Miller and his pack of pups is anything to warn us about.”

Looking down at the freely bleeding gashes that covered his ribcage, then the giant red smears in the snow near his feet, Ian huffed a quick breath of steam and nodded. “Stupid me. How is everything else”—the line went dead—“going?”

Fantastic. As always, a pleasurable experience talking with his brother.

Ian chucked the phone into his bag and hooked his hands on his hips as he looked down at the dead wolf. At least Cole’s brothers had cared enough to make a threat against him.

The McCalls were bat-shit crazy, but they were loyal.

At least Cole died knowing that someone in the world had his back.

Ian winced and dragged his gaze away from the limp gray and cream-colored wolf. He redressed slowly, careful of his gaping side. It would heal soon enough, but it hurt like hell right now, and sure as anything, the heavy iron scent of his blood would bring in the predators.

A little more effort, and this would be behind him. He could call Clayton, tell him it was done, and hope that was the last enforcer job he got this season.

The hunt was over, and now he could get back to his life.

Eat, sleep, fly, deliver, prepare for next winter, and above it all…forget about Elyse Abram.

Elyse cocked her eyebrow at the seventy-five-year-old mountain man doing his best to convince her he would make the perfect homesteader husband. Even if she could ignore his foul odor, she couldn’t ignore the three pain pills he’d popped in the last fifteen minutes or the deep limp he blamed on a bum back.

She wasn’t going to do this again, choose someone who wouldn’t pull their weight. The entire point of her putting an ad out for a helpmate was so that she didn’t have to run this place alone. She wasn’t looking to be pampered, but she wasn’t tacking on more work than this man was worth, either.

A strong back.
That was the first requirement she’d listed in the ad, so why had she interviewed three lame men now? Because apparently the only ones who took a husband-for-hire advertisement seriously in modern times were drunkards, moochers, and men old enough to fart dust who were tired of living alone. One of them had even called her his “retirement plan.” Hell nope.

“Thanks for coming by, Mr. Daltry. I’ll be sure to keep you in mind when I make my final decision.”

He was murmuring incomprehensibly as he listed all of his finer qualities, too fast for her to understand, but she was pretty sure she heard him say, “I only drink on weekdays” as she led him gently to the door.

And when she finally closed it on him and his truck engine roared to life, she rested her forehead on the rough wood of her door and sighed. Seven months since Cole had left, four months since his brother, Miller, had informed her that he’d died in the backcountry from a bear attack, and now it felt like she would never feel normal again. Tears stung her eyes as she pulled the newspaper off the table by the door. She had the damned thing memorized, but re-read it anyway. She had a couple of months left of warm weather, but she was so far behind on stocking up for winter, she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. Perhaps if she re-worded the advertisement again.

Husband for Hire

Good Alaskan man wanted. Must have strong back. Hunter preferable and bonus points for good marksmanship. Must not be prone to cabin fever and must be self-entertaining. Works well under stress for long hours. Good hygiene. Romantics need not apply.

Any longer and she’d have to pay for a bigger ad, and she was low on money as it was.

A knock sounded on the door, and she tried not to groan out loud. The damned barrier wasn’t sealed well, and old man Daltry would hear her. Perhaps he’d left his pain pills on the chair he’d sat in, or perhaps he was back because he’d just remembered some fascinating tidbit that would be sure to change her mind.

Steeling herself, she tucked her loose hair behind her ears, gripped the handle for a moment to plaster a polite smile on her face, and opened the door. She jolted at the sight of the behemoth before her, and from the startled expression on his face, she’d surprised him just as badly. He was definitely not Mr. Daltry.

“Holy shit,” she murmured as she looked hungrily at the powerful legs encased in his jeans to a tapered waist and strong, wide shoulders pushing against the fabric of his blue sweater. He had the top button undone, and layers of muscle underneath led to a thick throat where his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. It was his face that held her frozen, though. Sure, a reddish beard covered his jaw, but at least he’d trimmed it recently, and looking past the scruff, any red-blooded woman could tell this man was a vision. Smooth, sun-tanned skin, and a straight, narrow, proud nose. A crop of sandy brown, messy hair covered his head, but it was his eyes that had her knees going wobbly. Piercing blue and hard to look away from. And now he was smiling. Kind of. He looked a little uncomfortable, but that was okay.

Elyse stepped outside onto the sagging porch and looked him up and down as she shuffled around him in a wide circle. She even kicked the back of his locked knees with her boot, but he didn’t wobble at all. Sturdy as a pine tree, this one. “You’re not even hideous to look at.”

“I beg your pardon?” the man asked, twisting around and following her with his gaze.

“You aren’t repulsive.”

He frowned. “Thank you?”

“It’s just, everyone else who answered my ad…you know…was missing most of their teeth.” And smelled, but not this one. She leaned forward and sniffed. Soap and animal. Nice. He could probably ride a horse,
and
chop wood like a demon,
and
had definitely read the part of her advertisement about good hygiene. Oh, and he was a big, muscle-bound brawny man. She gripped his bicep and gave an approving whistle when her hand wouldn’t reach around it by half. So firm. So big.

The man wore a troubled frown, so she quit poking him.

“Are you all right?”

“And caring. Nice touch. Do you hunt?”

His eyes narrowed, but he nodded once.

“Good aim?”

“With a rifle?”

She nodded and crossed her arms, waiting and trying her best not to look at those powerhouse legs again. She’d already established his back was strong enough.

“I’m a fair shot.”

“Good. And are you a self-entertaining sort of man?”

“You mean am I independent?”

She’d never seen a more confused look on a man’s face. Maybe he’d forgotten what the ad said, so she reached inside the doorway and picked up the paper, then handed it to him and pointed at the article.

She waited while he refreshed his memory.

His lips moved as he read, and then suddenly he reared back and his eyes went round. Oooh, such a pretty color, even if he was looking at her strangely right now. “Husband for hire?”

“That’s why you’re here, right?”

“Why would you need to pay for a husband?”

“Not pay, per say. We would split the duties around my homestead as helpmates to begin with, and after a week or two, we can marry.” She nodded definitively.

“We can marry,” he repeated in an odd tone.

“Yes. And I won’t be trading money, more like a barter for you coming here to be the man of this house. I have cattle, and you’ll have a say in the running of this place and a safe cabin to live. I’m a loyal sort and will have your back. And…you’ll have me.”

His animated eyebrows jacked up. “You? You mean…”

Cheeks heating over the thought of sex with a titan like him, she cleared her throat and delved into more favorable conversation. “Were you born in Alaska?”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want one of those mainlander men who think it’ll be fun to homestead for a few seasons, then leave me high and dry once they grow bored with it. This isn’t some Alaskan reality show, mister. I need someone to stick around for me.”

The man frowned down at a folded piece of white paper he held clutched in his hand. Slowly, he tucked it into his back pocket and said, “Let me see your freezer.”

“My freezer?” she asked, utterly baffled.

“Yes, woman. Let me see how much meat you have stocked up. I want to know your situation. This is some sort of interview, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, doesn’t it seem fair that I interview you, too? Picking a mate—” The man shook his head and tried again. “Picking a
spouse
sure seems like a big enough deal that both parties should be agreeable, don’t you think?”

Huh. She licked her lip and thought on that. He was the first to ask her any questions back, besides the normal, “How many acres do you own?” and “Will I inherit the land if you die?”

Feeling vulnerable, and a little more than embarrassed, she twitched her head. “The freezer is this way.” She led him around the outside of her cabin to the back porch where she removed the padlock from her deep freeze and stood back.

The man cast her a quick glance before he opened the lid all the way. He locked his arms against the edges and stared down into the nearly empty depths, then wiped his beard against his shoulder, as if it was a habit he did when he wasn’t happy. “Is this your only freezer?”

“Afraid so. I had a man, but he gave everything to his brothers, and I’ve been just trying to get by for a while now. That’s why I put an ad in the paper, you see. I don’t want to just survive anymore. I need help so I don’t lose this place. It’s been in my family for a long time.”

He cleared his throat and wouldn’t meet her eyes. Instead, he stared into the abyss of her freezer as he said, “Your man. What happened to him?”

Cole’s slap burned across her memory like a brush fire. “He wasn’t very nice to me, so I asked him to leave. He died four months back from a bear attack.”

“Four months, and you don’t think this is too soon to look for a husband, or helpmate, or whatever it is you’re doing?”

“What are you doing here?” she asked angrily, tired of the judging.

The man scratched his head in an irritated sort of way, then set those biting blue eyes on her. He rubbed his hand thoughtfully over his beard, then lifted the newspaper as an answer.

“Then why are you asking me if it’s too soon?”

“Because I want to make sure you’re stable enough to do this before I consider your offer.”

“My offer?” The nerve. She hadn’t made anyone any offer.

“Yeah,” he said, standing to his full, imposing height. “How many have responded to this?”

Smartass. She lifted her chin primly. “A dozen.”

“And of that dozen, how many were under the age of sixty and fully capable?”

Zero. Elyse glared and clamped her mouth shut.

“That’s what I thought. Good Alaskan man, strong back, you won’t have to worry about me going crazy over a dark winter, I can work from sunup until sundown and beyond, and I am one fuck of a good hunter. You won’t go hungry, and I
will
put weight on you. From the looks of it, you didn’t fare well this past winter, and you haven’t made up your reserves. This,” he said, letting the lid of her freezer fall loudly, “isn’t acceptable, and it won’t be this low again if I have any say in the matter. I have good hygiene, and as far as the
romantics need not apply
slice of this lunatic pie, I don’t have a romantic bone in my body, so you’re good on not losing your heart to me. That’s the point of this, right? Shack up for help around this place, but safely after your last man turned out to be a piece of shit?”

Elyse made a shocked noise in her throat, but the man spun on his heel and strode for the house. He set his narrowed gaze on the woodpile and counted the cords she had cut, which were a pathetic few. Then he made his way to the horse shelter and leaned on the fence, not inviting one sentence of conversation from her while he studied her horses and the chicken coop that now housed exactly zero chickens on account of Cole giving her poultry meat away for booze.

“I have goats in the barn.”

“How many head of cattle?”

“Only fifteen now,” she murmured, feeling dizzy for reasons she couldn’t explain.

“Where are they?”

“Twenty miles up the river on better grazing grounds. My brother checks on them to make sure predators haven’t got them, and I’ll pay him with a one to butcher when he helps me drive them back here for winter. I go out there a couple times a week if I’m able.”

“Hay?”

“I got it planted. It’ll need cutting soon.”

“You got snow machines?”

“One. It needs work to run.”

“And the garden?”

“Out back. It’s overrun with weeds and not producing much right now. I’ve been having trouble keeping up.”

The man strode away from her on those long legs, his boots squishing over the muddy drive. Elyse rushed to follow. On the porch, he kicked his shoes off and pushed open the door to her cabin. She winced at what his attention hesitated on. Dishes in the sink, dead flowers in the vase on the table, un-swept floors, dust on everything.

He hooked his hands on his hips and shook his head.

“I must look pathetic to you,” she whispered.

“No.” He turned and gave her a sympathetic glance with those striking eyes of his. “I’m pissed at your last man for draining you like this, but I can see you’ve tried. It’s been months since he left, though. You should’ve rebounded.” He gave a long, irritated sigh. “I’ll consider your offer and give you an answer before weeks’ end.”

“Okay,” she murmured, shocked. Had she made him an offer? She was supposed to be in charge of negotiations, but he’d come in here and dumped her off balance.

He strode out of her house and shoved his feet into his boots. Without bothering to tie the laces, he strode off for an old cream and brown Ford truck with fat tires and mud all down the sides.

“Wait!” she said, lifting her voice as he drove away. “What’s your name?”

“Ian.” With one last flash of blue eyes before he drove away, he called out the window, “Ian Silver.”