She sighed. “Do you know anything about trucks?”
She was desperate. How had he missed that? It looked as if the bright red truck wasn’t the only thing that had taken a battering. He only just stopped himself from offering to buy her a new truck, or a new farm, whatever it took. But that wasn’t how he wanted their relationship to grow: he wanted to nurture the seed he hoped his first kiss had planted in her heart.
He chuckled. “When you have no money, you get good at learning how things work. My first construction job had a shoestring budget. So yes, I know something about trucks. But parts for this old thing are going to be hard to find.”
“I know.” She stroked the hood, a longing in her eyes that he recognized. Nostalgia. “She’s part of my childhood.”
“Then let’s open her up and take a look.” He smiled, and she smiled back. It was a start, and he’d take it. Hell, he would take any morsel she offered him. He shook his head. How the mighty had fallen.
“Thanks.” The hood clunked and he lifted it up, and peered at the engine.
Dylan guessed it hadn’t been serviced for a good few years. Methodically, he looked at each component, using his eyes to check everything was in the right place. It all looked OK, although the fuel lines were almost perished.
“Are you just going to look?” she asked impatiently, moving closer, itching to watch over his shoulder. Instead, she stood hugging herself, keeping herself safe, keeping her distance from him.
“Well, we don’t want to rush in and make things worse. Do we?” he asked, smiling softly. “Why don’t you come see?”
She took a step forward and then hesitated. “I can see from here.”
He straightened up. “Look, honey, I am not going to hurt you. I am not even going to touch you. Not unless you ask me to.”
Her hand went to her lips. His kiss still lingered there. Maybe she wanted him to touch her, to kiss her. Well, she was going to have to give him some kind of sign. He had made his move; she had walked away. He was not chasing her down, he was going to draw her in.
Chapter Three – Steph
“So it just gave up? Or did it sputter some?” he asked.
“Kind of just stopped working.”
“Fuel?” he asked.
“Do you mean what fuel does it take? Or whether, being a female, I actually remembered to put some in?” she asked caustically.
He laughed. “I believe women are just as capable, if not more capable, than men.” He looked up at her. “And I think you are more capable than most. I haven’t come across many women with a fully loaded truck of timber, stuck on the side of the road.”
“No one else is going to do it.”
“What about your dad? And didn’t you have a brother? I remember your dad driving this truck through town when it was new.”
“You do?” she asked, avoiding the question. It didn’t feel right to be standing here with a perfect stranger, and yes, he was perfect, at least to her eyes, telling him her life history. “I didn’t think a boy like you would notice things like that.”
“A boy like me.” He pulled something off and blew into it, then he replaced it, and moved on to check something else. “And what kind of boy am I?”
“Were you,” she corrected. Steph couldn’t help it; her eyes evaluated every inch of his well-muscled body, and she said, “You are not exactly a boy anymore.”
Chuckling, he pulled a fuel line off, and let something trickle out that smelled like gasoline. “You are right there. In so many ways.”
He stood up, his eyes caressing her body, but he refrained from making any kind of comment and she wondered if it was because she was a lot curvier than most girls. Maybe he wasn’t attracted to her? Perhaps the kiss had been more of a reflex thing, than something born of desire. She had to know if that was the kind of man he was. One who acted on reflex, without a care for others. Because if he was, she would go bear and keep on running so he would never find her.
“Is that a good thing?” she asked. “That you’ve changed”
“You tell me?” he asked. “Do I look like the same kid who left Bear Bluff in a police car heading for juvie?”
“You don’t look the same, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t the same. Or worse.” What was she saying? She needed him to fix her truck. Baiting him was not a good idea.
“I tell you what I think we should do, Miss Summerfield. I think we should each start with a clean slate. I will prove to you what kind of man I am now, and you can prove to me what kind of woman you are.”
“I don’t have to prove anything,” she said defiantly, not sure if she was ready to let him know the real Stephanie Summerfield. Not least because she didn’t know who that was. Not anymore, not since she had taken on this damn renovation project.
“No, you don’t. And neither do I. We are mates, whether you like it or not. But I want it to be more than that. Deeper than that. So are you willing to take on that challenge? Are you willing to let me get under your skin, and into your soul?” His voice was soft, compelling, and she wanted to grab hold of his hands, now dirty from the truck’s engine, place them on her body and tell him she needed fixing too.
Keep your cool, she reminded herself, and then said, “I’m not sure what they taught you in juvie, but you certainly have a way with words.” A way she liked, a way she could listen to all day. Or was it just talk?
Then let him prove himself to us, her bear said gently. They were so used to being let down by the men whom they were closest to. Yet she knew all men weren’t the same.
“I have been taught a lot of things over the years I’ve been away,” he said silkily, turning his full attention on her.
“Really?” she asked, leaning into him, licking her lips, wanting him to kiss her again, even if it meant him breaking his promise not to touch her or kiss her until she asked. She wanted him to break his word; she wanted him to kiss her.
“Yes,” he said, his breath caressing her neck, making the small hairs stand on end. She closed her eyes, waiting for that touch. An ache was building in her core, and she wanted to ask him to kiss her. Was that what he wanted, was this his way of breaking down her resolve? She didn’t care. She opened her mouth to speak, when he said, “Want to try her now?”
“Try what now?” she asked hoarsely.
“The truck.” He patted the side panel, the sound breaking the spell he had put over her.
“It’s fixed?” she asked.
“I think so. Fuel line was blocked; turn her over and we’ll see if I was right.” He grinned at her as she ran around to the driver’s side and turned the key. Once, twice, she turned it over, and then at last it sputtered into life.
“Thank you!” She came back around, and was about to hug him when she remembered herself.
Dylan cocked one eyebrow. “You are welcome.” He looked a little disappointed at not getting a hug, but he soon got over it. “You drive on home, and I will follow you.”
“No, really, I can manage from here,” she said, backing away from him.
“You think I’m going to risk you breaking down again, and someone else rescuing you?” he asked, walking to his bike and taking his helmet off his handlebars. “It is my duty, as your mate.”
“I’m fine, I can manage on my own.”
“You can’t stop me following you,” he said.
She sighed, he was right. “OK. Whatever makes you happy.” She hid a small smile. It was nice to have someone care about her, as long as this wasn’t the start of him bossing her around.
“It makes me happy to help you,” he said, with an exaggerated bow.
Shaking her head, the smile on her face was growing bigger. She could just imagine him on a white horse instead of a chrome motorcycle. If only she were that lucky: it wouldn’t hurt to have a knight in shining armor watching your back. But she still could not forget his past or forget the death of Greg Franks.
Putting her foot on the accelerator, she began the rest of the journey home, w
ith her new man following behind on his motorcycle. Would he follow her the whole way home? Right up to the front door? Or would he be content with a wave goodbye at the end of the drive?
She knew the answer, although she didn’t like it. Steph didn’t feel ready to explain the state of the farm, or the fact she was tackling the job alone, with help from her mom, of course. But her mom was kept busy looking after the few animals that remained: a herd of cattle who were past their best, the hens, who often didn’t lay eggs, and various other animals that seemed to have slipped into being pets.
That was what had given Steph the idea of running the farm as a B&B, instead of building the farming side back up from nothing. It would be easier to run, not such hard labor, and would bring in more money than her mom and Steph could ever hope to make running the farm as it should have been run. It was too late to build the farm back up—they had no money for livestock, so they had gone for diversification.
Living in the city, she had often heard friends saying they loved visiting the countryside. There was something incredibly relaxing about a vacation in the mountains, far away from the hectic life of the city. Steph knew exactly what they meant; she often lay awake, her bear and her, reliving their old life in Bear Bluff, their times in the mountains, running free, not a care in the world.
It was going to be great, if she could get the place finished before the bills started piling up too high. How Paul could live with himself after leaving the farm penniless, Steph didn’t know. To some extent she didn’t care; she simply wanted him to stay away, for a long, long, time. Her mom never let on, but Steph could see the betrayal in her eyes. When his father died, running the farm passed to Paul, although it was in her mom’s name. It was Paul’s duty to care for his mom, but instead he’d used her and then left. Breaking years of tradition.
Now, Steph was going to break tradition further, by not replacing the animals. Instead, people were going to be their sole source of income, and she needed those people to be happy and spread the word.
As she turned into the lane leading up to the farm, glancing in the mirror to see Dylan following her, she felt a sense of excitement. This truly was a new beginning. The sign was already painted; Summerfield B&B was going to be a success, and maybe her bad boy had come along at just the right time to help them get things finished.
After all, he had mentioned construction, and he had those big strong arms which would make lifting things so easy. She sighed. They were going to survive this. She just had to convince her mom that Dylan had turned over a new leaf.
Which might be hard, since she wasn’t one hundred percent convinced herself.
Chapter Four – Dylan
Dylan wasn’t expecting Summerfield Farm to be so rundown. It wasn’t just shabby, it looked as if it was falling apart from years of neglect. When her mom came out of the house alone to meet them, he began to fill in a few of the blanks.
“Stephanie, where have you been?” her mom asked.
Stephanie, bingo, he said to himself; at least he wasn’t going to have to stand there and ask her, her name. That would have been kind of awkward, since she knew his name well enough. Just as the rest of the town still would remember it, he was sure.
“Truck broke down,” Stephanie said, getting out of the truck, and slamming the door.
“But you got back here.” Her eyes flicked over Dylan, who was getting off his bike, and removing his helmet. He might just as well get this part over with.
“Dylan fixed it on the side of the road,” Stephanie said. Giving him a smile. “Otherwise we would have been in trouble.”
“Sure would, there’s barely enough in the bank for this week’s groceries, yet alone a truck repair.”
“Mom,” Stephanie hissed.
“I’m not proud, just grateful,” Stephanie’s mom said, coming over to give Dylan a closer inspection. “I don’t think I know you.” She held out her hand, offering him her thanks, but before he took it, he figured he should give her a chance to take it back.
“I’m Dylan Taylor.” He waited for her to make the connection.
“Oh, I remember, Calvin Taylor’s grandson. He talks about you a lot. Says he’s proud of the young man you’ve become.”
He blushed, down to the roots of his hair, he was sure; his whole face felt hot, and his hands clammy, so that when he decided he would shake her hand, he had to wipe it on his black leather pants first. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Summerfield.”
“Oh, call me Kitty,” Stephanie’s mom said, taking his hand and beaming a big smile at him. Her gaze had flitted between him and Stephanie, and he was certain Kitty knew their secret. If it was a secret; he had no idea.
“Nice to meet you, Kitty,” Dylan said.
“Now, why don’t I go and fetch you some nice cold lemonade, or iced tea? Or water. While you help my daughter unload all this wood,” Kitty said, and released his hand, turning to head back into the house.
“Mom, I can manage,” Stephanie insisted.
Kitty put her hand in the air and said, “Of course you can manage, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need the help.”
“Come on, it will do me good to get some exercise,” Dylan said. “I’ve been traveling for the last two days; my muscles need a stretch.”
She didn’t argue. “I’ll drive the truck around the back of the barn, and you can help me unload there.”
“Sure thing,” he said, jumping in next to her.
“It’s not far, you could have walked.”
“I know, but I didn’t want you to run out on me.” He sat back, and looked around the farm, while she started the engine and drove around the barn, which had a lot of rotten wood along the left side. He could see where someone had begun ripping out the worst of it, and that was where the wood in the truck was destined for. “Someone’s been busy,” he said lightly.
“I need to work on the house, but this seemed the best place to start. It all needs work before I open it up as a B&B.” She stopped the truck and was halfway out the door.
“A B&B?” he asked, stunned that the family were going to invite strangers into their house. “Isn’t the farm making money?”
It was a redundant question. He could see the empty fields, with a few cattle scattered here and there, but they were not good stock, and looked as if they, too, had seen better days. The farm would have hardly any income, and he recalled Kitty’s comments about only just having enough for groceries.
“No. Not a penny.”
“Why?” he asked, joining her at the back of the truck. “I thought your dad managed the farm well.”
“My dad did. Right up to the point he died.”
“I’m sorry, I had no idea. And you and your mom have been running it since? I thought you had a brother?” He helped her undo the tailgate, but as it dropped he heard her huff, and he looked up to see her standing there with her hands on his hips. “OK, what have I said wrong this time?”
“Me and my mom are the ones putting the place back together. It was my brother who ran it into the ground and left us penniless. Can you imagine? The farm has been in my family for generations and in two short years he’s ruined it.” She began lifting the wooden planks and stacking them neatly in a pile, her anger giving her strength.
“That must be tough. Especially for your mom, when she’s lived here for so long.” He took two for every one of her planks, flexing his muscles and feeling good about doing manual labor for a change. Lately, his job had become more pencil pusher than manual worker.
“She hides it well. Her disappointment rests firmly with my brother. I think parents always blame themselves for how their kids turned out. She could sell the farm, find a job with room and board at one of the other farms, or she could move in with me. But the city is no place for a bear shifter who’s used to living out here.” She paused for a moment, and turned to look around her, taking in the Bluff, as it stood, timeless, watching over the town, as it always had. Then she gazed at the rest of the mountain range
that encircled them.
“Bears’ paradise,” he said, looking at the same view, with the same appreciation of one who had spent far too long away from their home. “Why did you leave?”
She kept unloading the planks, and he wondered if she was going to answer, but he gave her the time she needed. He wasn’t going anywhere.
Chapter Five – Steph
Why had she left? So much was caught up in that one simple question.
“At first I left because I wanted to go to college and get an education. As I’d grown up, I began to notice how my dad treated my mom. How, to him, she was somehow lesser. I guess you’d call him a male chauvinist, or just plain old-fashioned.”
“I have come across enough of those,” Dylan said. “But I’m not one myself.”
“If you were, you would be living without your mate for the rest of your life,” she assured him. “I’ve had enough of it. I hate that my mom put up with it. But I think it was how her father treated her mom, so she kind of finds it acceptable. I’m just glad that if nothing else, she guided me into being an independent woman.”
“So you went to college, but still, you never came back?” he asked. They were halfway through unloading the wood.
“I’d come back when I could. At college, I had a job in a sandwich shop, so I couldn’t come back as often as I’d have liked. But I tried.”
“And when you finished college?” Dylan asked, watching her face, as she thought about what she was going to tell him. What light she was going to shine on her personality, so that he could learn a little more about her, and which parts she wanted to leave completely in the dark.
“I came back for the summer after I left college. My mom could see I wasn’t happy with how things were. While I was away, my brother had become like my dad, expecting her to clean and cook and do farm chores. Sometimes she’d work twelve-hour days, while he did less and less. He would sit around drinking beer, as if he was a lord or something.”
The Bear Is Back In Town: BBW Bear Shifter Paranormal Romance (Return To Bear Bluff Book 1) Page 2
