Matthew (BBW Country Music Bear Shifter Romance) (Bearly Saints Book 1)

by Becca Fanning

  I decided I needed to stretch my legs. A walk around the office would do me good. I’d been sitting too long anyway. The yoga in the morning was great, but it colored the rest of my day. My muscles complained while I was doing it, then they complained when I wasn’t doing it. I couldn’t win.

  I walked down the hall and turned to go into the break room. I saw two guys standing in front of a poster on the wall. It was the weight loss competition board. I froze when I heard them talking in hushed tones.

  “…Like, why even bother?” one said.

  “I don’t know, man. One or two of them, if I was drunk,” the other said, pointing at pictures of the women on the board. They were the profile pictures the company had on file. Mine was one of them.

  “You’d have to be drunk enough to not remember it the next day,” the first one said, chuckling.

  I turned away, walking back to my office. It was hard enough having to work on my weight, but to be mocked over it? That was low. I didn’t need that shit. I slammed my office door behind me and wiped at my eyes.

  —

  “Bend from the waist, grab the backs of your calves,” Dominick said. His voice was soft, but it carried through the whole studio. The only other sound was the grunts and breaths of the students.

  I did as instructed, bending forward, turning myself into an upright sandwich. I grabbed the backs of my calves and pulled with all my might. This pose always gave me a strange sensation. My legs were being stretched up away from the floor, while my arms and chest were pulling down towards the floor. I knew my form wasn’t great: it was hard to get the forms right when you were heavier like me.

  “Keep your grips tight. A solid grip is the foundation to every pose,” he said. He paced back and forth on the platform, watching all of us. He had a way of speaking that addressed the room but made you feel like he was speaking just to you.

  I glanced to the side and saw one of the other ladies in the class. Heidi. Her pose was perfect. Immaculate. She smiled into her shins, sweat pouring down. She was thin. So thin that her body never got in her way, no matter how she bent, twisted or contorted. I thought back to the break room, those two assholes and their comments. I bet they wouldn’t have to get drunk to get with her.

  My grip slipped, and before I knew it I was tumbling forward. I had enough good sense to tuck my head in, but my momentum had me roll into the neighbor in front of me.

  He fell down sideways, hitting the person to his right. “Shit,” he said.

  “Sorry!” I said. “I’m…”

  The whole room was looking at me.

  “Sorry,” I said, bending over to grab my mat and towel. They pulled up with a loud wet sound, and I fled the room in embarrassment. The cold blast of air from the foyer hit me like a wall.

  A round open room with light wood panelling on the walls, the foyer was off a hallway from the main gym where the weightlifters and treadmill rats were. While the yoga studio was still part of the gym as a whole, this made it feel more private. Ferns were spread around the room, giving the space a warm and secluded feel. It helped to be in the right mindset before bending yourself into a pretzel.

  I heard the door open behind me and turned to see Dominick, his concern plain on his face.

  “Are you alright?” he said. Sweat dripped down his muscular chest, plastering his curly hairs to his chest.

  “I’m fine. I lost my concentration, that’s all,” I said. “Don’t you have to get back in there?”

  “I gave the class a bonus ten minute rest. They’re ecstatic. They’re probably conspiring to fall voluntarily now,” he said, grinning. He motioned to a bench, “Here, sit.”

  I sat down and wiped my brow. “I don’t know, Dominick,” I said.

  “Please, call me Dom,” he said, taking a spot on the bench next to me.

  “Ok, Dom,” I said. Dom! It sounded so intimate. “You run a great class, and your instruction is very helpful.”

  “I’m sensing a but coming,” he said.

  “But,” I said, gesturing emphatically, “I don’t know if I can do it.”

  “What do you mean, Cynthia?” he said.

  My stomach fluttered when he said my name. “I just…the poses can be very hard. For someone like me. I don’t look like the typical yoga practitioner,” I said.

  “I’m not here to teach the typical yoga practitioner. I’m here to teach my students. You’re one of my students, and I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said. His legs fell open and his knee brushed against mine.

  “But the other students in the class do it so easily. I must be a distraction. I know I’m a distraction,” I said, remembering my acrobatic stunt.

  “Sometimes, Cynthia, distractions are what we need,” he said. His eyes rested on my cleavage, the low cut of my leotard pulling him in. He cleared his throat and looked away. “Yoga, like life, isn’t in a bubble. We have to consider other people, and how we let them affect us is our decision. The struggle is to maintain focus,” he said.

  “But how can I focus if I can’t even get a solid grip? I look around the class and I don’t see anyone else struggling with just getting a grip,” I said.

  “The grip will come. It just takes practice and patience,” he said.

  The door to the studio opened.

  Heidi walked out, her long tanned legs leading the way. Her blonde hair was done up in a ponytail, and even though she was a sweaty mess she still looked better than I did on my best nights. Her tits were fake, but even I had to admit they were fantastic. “Hey Dom. Hi, uhh…” she said.

  “Cynthia,” I said.

  “Right,” Heidi said. “We’re missing you in there, Dom.” She sauntered over, puffing her chest out as she stood next to him. “If class is done, I suppose that’s fine,” she said, putting a finger lightly on his shoulder. “We can make it up in private sessions.”

  Any part of me that had been excited by his attention suddenly shriveled. I knew how this played out. Ever since high school, I’d experienced this exact thing. I’d get to know some cute guy, then some thinner girl would swoop in and sink her claws into him. I grit my teeth and felt my shoulders slump forward.

  I stood up and collected my things. “You should get back in there,” I said.

  “Wait, Cynthia,” Dom said.

  “I’m just not feeling well today. I’ll make it next class,” I said.

  “Promise?” he said.

  “I promise,” I lied. I turned and walked into the locker room, my face going beet red. I heard Dom and Heidi going back into the yoga studio. Alone in the locker room, I peeled off my sopping wet leotard and hopped in the shower.

  I felt so stupid for thinking that someone like Dom would be interested in me. Even if some part of him did want to get to know me better, he was defenseless against women like Heidi. All she had to do was shake her thin waist in front of him and he was under her spell. Women like her went hunted men for sport, used them for their own ends, then left them once they got bored. I didn’t think it mattered that he was a Shifter. If it had a cock, it was no match for Heidi’s ilk.

  Maybe I was overthinking this. Maybe he was just an instructor and Heidi was just a student. There was no point in assuming the worst, and there was definitely no point in worrying about it. I dried myself off and changed into my clothes.

  I heard the class leaving the yoga studio. I packed my things up and left the locker room as women began to stream in. I got some half hearted smiles on my way out, but most of them were too exhausted to think. I knew that feeling. It was a good feeling. After you gave it all you had, all that was left was just to carry your bones to the shower. I ought to go to the next class.

  I stepped into the foyer as the yoga studio door was swinging closed. In the studio I saw Dom standing near the door, and Heidi standing right in front of him. So close her silicone enhanced nipples were poking him in the chest. She was laughing and playing with her hair, the embodiment of flirtation.

  Fuck that. I pulled my bag
over my shoulder and made for the exit. Maybe there was a pilates class somewhere.

  —

  “That show is rotting your brain, Renee!” I said, laughing.

  “I know, girl, but I can’t stop watching it,” she said. “Reality TV is my heroin, my crack and my cheap motel sex all rolled into one. I need it. The worse it is, the more I need it.”

  We were having our normal gab session in my office, just another way to break up the monotony of the work day. Renee loved to fill me in on what’s been happening with her shows. She had a slate of reality TV shows that she watched religiously.

  “Who knew you could make six seasons of a show about gypsy weddings?” I said. I always had a suspicion that everyone was a voyeur. Either secretly or overtly, we all loved to watch other people.

  “I know, right?” Renee said. “So, no yoga mat anymore?” She rocked a foot towards my bag.

  “Yeah I think the honeymoon is over. Don’t get me wrong: it was great at first. But after a while…” I said.

  “The luster wore off?” Renee said.

  “Exactly,” I said.

  “Well, there’s nothing to be done for boredom. I bet you’re going to miss Mr. Shifter though,” she said with a wink. “I bet he wasn’t boring.”

  “No, he wasn’t boring. Just predictable,” I said, suppressing a sigh. I thought he was different, but he wasn’t. He was just like all the others.

  “So even a Shifter can be predictable? I’ll have to take your word for it, Cynthia,” she said. “The office weight loss challenge is almost over.”

  “Yeah, I’m not doing that anymore. I’ve got too many things going on right now,” I said. I felt bad. Ashamed, actually. But I had no interest in adding insult to injury by showing the office how little commitment I had. I’d fretted over the competition for days after I quit yoga.

  I’d tried some home yoga videos, but without Dom’s sleek powerful presence, they didn’t do it for me. I tried pilates with the same effect. I thought about his golden eyes at night, about the last time I saw him. Mostly I did it to beat myself up I guess. I’d never grown tired of that.

  “Oh, so then there’s the hoarder show. This lady had sixty two cats…” Renee said.

  —

  I stomped my way up the front steps to my apartment building. Opening the door, I saw an envelope on the floor, slid in through the door jam. It was a light blue color and across the front was written my name. I looked around a moment, then bent down and picked it up.

  Dear Cynthia,

  I haven’t seen you around the studio. I hope you’re doing well. I thought about the concerns you expressed when we last talked. I’d like to invite you to a private session next week. My address is enclosed. I think we can get you past your shortcomings.

  -Dom

  I stood in my kitchen, leaning against my counter, reading the note over and over. One word just stuck out at me, again and again.

  Shortcomings.

  I felt like I was under attack. I’d confided in him my challenges and he had the audacity to refer to them as shortcomings? Why didn’t he just come out and say I was too fat? Why didn’t he have the balls and the decency to at least do that?

  I crumpled the note, my eyes tearing up. I threw it into the garbage. I felt like a fool for letting myself think there was something there. I took my bottle of tequila off the top of my refrigerator and poured a shot. Down it went, fire and regret all rolled into one. I poured another and tossed it back, not nearly as hot as the first.

  Then I realized, he wanted me to behave like this. This was what he did. He and that skinny bitch Heidi were probably laughing at this very minute. My friends in college always told me that I had a temper when I drank, but this was different.

  I was sick of being the victim. I was sick of letting everything happen to me. It was time Cynthia did something. I was going to give Dom a piece of my mind. But not next week. Right this moment.

  After I do one more shot.

  —

  “Keep the change,” I said, handing the cab driver a twenty and steadying myself against the car for a second. What was I thinking? This was stupid. I walked up onto the curb and the cab pulled away. Well, the ships are burned, so I might as well make the best of this mission.

  The massive brick building in front of me must’ve formally been a factory or warehouse. These buildings were all being repurposed into chic loft condos. I bet Dom’s place had vaulted ceilings and exposed brick. I loved exposed brick.

  I pushed the menu button on the intercom system at his front door. I scrolled through the names until I found his. I punched his number and the machine dialed. This wasn’t what I had in mind. I thought I’d surprise him at his door, catch him off guard while I lay into him about how low he was.

  “Umm…hello?” a voice said through the intercom.

  “Umm, hello? Is that all you have to say for yourself?” I said, trying to pump myself up. “I found your little note. I’m here to give you a piece of my mind!”

  A click was followed by a dial tone. He’d hung up. Coward. Well, it wasn’t face to face, but it was still satisfying in its own way. And I was also partly relieved that it was over.

  The buzz from the door unlocking made me jump a foot into the air. He was letting me in? Befuddled, I grabbed the door and went inside. My feet carried me down a long hallway lined with old pipes that were purely decoration now.

  I got to Dom’s door. I knocked. I heard someone walk up to the other side of it. But Dom didn’t open the door.

  “Seems a strange choice to chicken out now,” I said, feeling some of my bravado come back to me. “Grow a pair and open up.”

  “Oh, I’ve got a pair,” a voice said as the door swung open. The man standing in front of me wasn’t Dom, though. Tall and blonde with golden eyes, he was dripping wet and had a towel wrapped around his six pack. “I just don’t know who you are.”

  “Umm…sorry. I…I think I made a mistake,” I said.

  “Do you do that often?” he said, his head cocking to the side.

  “Make mistakes?” I said.

  He laughed loudly. “No, dear. We all make mistakes. I meant apologize for no reason. I assume from your reaction that you weren’t expecting me to answer the door.”

  “Yes,” I said, my pulse beginning to race. His short blonde hair was spiky from the shower he must’ve jumped out of.

  “Well, Dom would be upset with me if I turned away a guest, even a potentially violent one. Please enter, but know that I’m also a guest,” he said, then walked back into the apartment.

  I followed him in, closing the door behind me. “I’m sorry for disturbing you,” I said. I saw him walk through the loft back towards a bathroom.

  “There you go again, apologizing for no need,” he said. “Just give me a moment to rinse this shampoo out. Make yourself at home.” He didn’t bother closing the bathroom door, and I got a good eyeful of his chiseled ass as he stepped back into the shower.

  After picking my jaw up from off the floor, I looked around the loft. The first Shifter home I’d ever been inside was more normal than I expected. No animal skins, no large potted trees. I didn’t know why I expected those, but I had. The only thing out of the ordinary was a large log suspended from the ceiling by a massive iron link chain. The log had huge claw marks running through it, and the floor beneath it was covered in chunks of wood.

  I ran my fingers against the log. Most of the claw marks were a foot higher than I could reach on my tiptoes. I knew Shifters got larger when they changed, but this was a thousand pounds of solid proof.

  “Mind the mess,” the man said as he came back out of the bathroom wearing a pair of jeans. They were unbuttoned at the top, giving a glimpse of a treasure trail leading from his belly button all the way down.

  “I-“ I said as I turned, my hand running down the log. A huge splinter drove into my palm. “Eeee!”

  The man ran over. “I’ve got it. Don’t worry,” he said soothingly. “I’m g
oing to hold your wrist steady while I pull it out.”

  “It really hurts!” I said, averting my eyes from my hand. I felt immense pressure as his big strong hand closed around my wrist. I couldn’t move my hand if my life depended on it. His other arm moved in a flash. I felt a pinch, then nothing.

  “All done,” he said. He walked back to the bathroom to dispose of the splinter. He came back with a bandage and my hand was no worse for wear. “I think this is a first,” he said.

  “A first for what?” I said.

  “I’ve caused you a wound and mended you, all before knowing who you are or what your name is,” he said. “My name is Catharn.”