But that didn’t mean he was going to let the Taylors win this fight, no matter how asinine a legal battle over five acres appeared. He may not be around for the day-to-day, but family loyalties trumped everything. His mom asked him to step in as proxy in the mediation, and he’d wear Samantha down until she gave them what they wanted. Using a mediator instead of taking the Taylors to court meant neither family wanted to drag this problem out longer than necessary.
Carter flexed his hands. He’d been on the rig for a couple of months this time, and he needed to go native within the next few weeks, or he’d risk the bear pushing itself to the surface.
He glanced over at the broken window. Samantha could probably use a week or two of native time too. It’d piss her off for him to mention it, so he made sure he’d remember to lead with that advice as soon they crossed paths. Keeping her in a constant state of irritation for the next two days would play into his plans of coming out on top.
Carter strolled to the front double doors of the large three-story resort-style lodge. He appreciated good architecture, and this building had obviously been built with a keen eye for detail.
Inside he noted his surroundings before making his way to a small desk with a petite brunette cradling a phone between her shoulder and ear. To his right sat a small dining area. To the left, a recreational room which housed a pool table and big screen television. A large staircase took up the corner of the building leading to the third and fourth floors. Large double doors were closed directly in front of him, and he decided the mediations probably took place there. He tilted his head left and right and inhaled deeply, but his bear senses told him there was nothing but humans in the building. Other than Samantha, who left a scent of she-bear and powdered sugar in her wake.
He approached the desk, and the brunette put her call on hold. Her smile stiff, she asked for his last name.
“Wright. Carter.”
She pulled a file folder out and stuck it in a metal basket. “You’re in room 203. Second room on the right. You’re scheduled for an appointment with Dr. Holland at 4:30 this afternoon, and again tomorrow at 10:30 a.m. Don’t be late. Dinner and breakfast are served at six and nine respectively. There’s a vending machine at the end of the hall if you need snacks. All mediation clients stay on premises. Dr. Holland doesn’t have time to hunt down clients who come and go as they please. Questions?”
Not a lot of warmth radiated from the woman, but Carter dismissed the notion of needing warmth from strangers. “No questions.”
“Good.” She picked up a slip of paper and handed it to him. “These are the house rules. If you break the house rules, you’ll be evicted. Understand?”
“Yes.” He didn’t like rules or restrictions, but he wouldn’t risk getting thrown out before an agreement on the land was made.
She flipped open a register book and placed a key on top. “Sign here, and you’re all set.”
Carter grabbed the nearest pen and scratched his signature in the book. The sloping handwriting above his read Samantha’s name—with the same room number.
“Why am I sharing a room with someone on the opposite side of the table?” he asked.
The brunette’s forehead wrinkled, and she tapped her lips three times with a pen. “Aren’t you here for the couple’s therapy with your wife?”
“Uh, no. We aren’t a married couple.” Carter half sat on the edge of the desk. The woman flipped back through the folder. He chewed on his toothpick and watched a rosy-hued blush creep across her neck.
“Oh my. I don’t know how I made that mistake. That’s right, you’re here for the land dispute mediation.”
“No, worries. I’ll sign for another room.”
“There are no other rooms. We’re booked up for couple’s therapy for the next two weeks. We’ll have to cancel your mediation and get you back in next month.”
“Whoa. I’m not waiting until next month.” He didn’t even know what part of Alaska he’d be in next month. He tossed the key up and caught it in his hand. “The not-so-Mrs. and I will make this work.”
Carter took the toothpick out of his mouth and tossed it in a nearby trash can. The mix-up could work to his advantage. He’d demand half the room and half the bed. He’d accuse her of staring at his ass with undeniable interest. He’d make her miserable, and by tomorrow morning, he’d have her giving in to all his family’s terms.
Piece of cake, or donut, in this case.
He took his time ascending the stairs practicing different comments in his head guaranteed to annoy. I’ll take top bunk. The side of the room with the bathroom is mine. I sleep nude.
The key turned easily in the lock, and he tossed the door open, a satisfactory grin pulling his lips up on each side.
The scene before him stopped his comments faster than diving into a frozen lake.
Samantha lay in the middle of the bed in nothing but her purple Total B.S. Donuts T-shirt and black lace panties. A pink frilly mask covered her eyes, and her long blonde hair fanned out across two white pillows.
She snorted and rolled over, giving him a full view of a luscious ass. Her thighs parted slightly, and he couldn’t stop staring at the small slip of black covering her sex.
He hardened and fought the urge to join her on the bed. He tilted his head and let her perfumed scent fill his nostrils. Carter backed out of the room and shut the door.
His heart beat an unnatural rhythm inside his ribcage.
Round one to Samantha.
Chapter Three
After Carter backed out of the room, Samantha peeked out from beneath the eye mask and released a quiet laugh. Two hours she’d waited for him to show up to the room. On the drive up she’d embraced the idea to make him as uncomfortable as possible at all costs. His younger twin brothers, Tony and Trevor, had tortured Bobbie and her for weeks, and she’d picked up a few tips on how to irritate someone in the process of dealing with their crap. But it hadn’t come cheap. She’d offered Lisa, the main on-site coordinator, a year’s supply of fresh donuts to lie about all the rooms being taken.
Sharing a room wouldn’t be discouraging enough, but she knew that once he saw her positioned on the bed like a snoring slob sans pajama bottoms, he’d turn his bear tail and run. She’d been careful to toss clothes all over the floor and spread out a mile-wide of girlie products in the bathroom. Let him sleep in his camper truck without all the fun amenities, and he’d be ready to give in to her family’s demands by tomorrow morning. He’d made a big mistake by showing his paws when he told her earlier he looked forward to a real bed. With a little distraction, Samantha could break Carter’s focus and end this land mediation with a win.
Her stomach rumbled a short symphony of hunger noises. The clock on the nightstand showed she had two hours before meeting for their first mediation, and three-and-a-half hours before dinner. Unused to having time on her hands, she texted her cousin Bobbie and asked how the donut café was holding up. Bobbie responded she’d closed down early for wild animal sex.
Ew. Happily-ever-after mated couples were the worst. Always wanting to force their happiness on everyone else. Bobbie could keep her mate, and Samantha would keep her sanity.
She removed the bandage from her hand, happy her shifter genes meant fast healing. For external wounds at least.
Earlier, Lisa mentioned a vending machine at the end of the hallway. It took a few minutes, but she’d dug enough change out of her purse to get snacks for before dinner and much later in the evening. Being a bear meant eating more calories than the average woman. Sometimes more than the average power-lifting man. After shaking her curves into a pair of cut-off shorts, she made her way to the end of the hall. She passed by the other rooms, and her heightened hearing picked up on a few marital arguments. Humming broke up the noise and canceled out the discovery of unwanted personal business. Mostly. Yet another reason to stifle any thoughts of mating for life.
She approached the end of the hall, and the snappy little tune died in her throat. Eve
ry row inside the vending machine was completely empty. The usual unwanted packages of gum at the bottom were gone too. She tapped the glass to make sure the image before her wasn’t a mirage.
She walked down the stairs intent on questioning Lisa about the empty machine and caught the heady scent of cooked meat floating out from the kitchen. Since Lisa wasn’t at her post, Samantha veered toward the back of the building. Maybe she could convince the cook to let her have a little something before dinner.
Happiness shined from the other side of the kitchen door. Several sterling silver pots lined an oversized stove. Her mouth watered double-time. Beef pot roast and vegetables simmered in each one. “Hallelujah.”
A woman in a white apron and a construction-orange bandana stepped out of the walk-in freezer carrying a large bag of frozen corn. “No guests in the kitchen.”
Samantha bounced on the balls of her feet. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind letting me have a pre-meal snack.”
The woman slapped the frozen corn down on the counter. “No.”
“No?”
Her eyelids fluttered. “Dinner is served at six. Read the guidelines again. I don’t have time to cater to busty blondes who can’t follow the house rules.”
Samantha slapped a hand across her cleavage. Why didn’t people realize she hadn’t asked to be blessed in the boob department? Too embarrassed to argue further, she turned and pushed through the door.
On her way back to her room to hide until the mediation meeting, she noticed Carter sitting on the couch in the small entertainment room. On each side of him was a plastic bag filled with what looked like chips and candy bars. Good reason told her to ignore him, but Carter met her questioning gaze with one full of mirth. He lifted a candy bar to his lips and took a healthy bite.
A low growl rose from her diaphragm.
The jerk had taken all of the snacks out of the vending machine anticipating her bear hunger. He probably bribed the cook to shut down her attempts at scrounging up a pre-meal morsel. Both thoughts sounded ridiculous unless you lived in a town with the Wright brothers. She flipped him off and bounded up the stairs.
In order to get ahead of him she needed to shore up her game.
∞∞∞
The idea to raid the vending machine came to Carter after he’d hit the bottom of the stairs and overheard the front desk girl brag on the phone about her donut payment from Samantha. He’d also overheard the cook turn away a couple hoping for an early dinner. A cook who took the house rules seriously played right into his scheme. Enhanced hearing made the game he and Samantha played twice the fun. And it was definitely a game. One he intended to win. He could stand sleeping in the truck on the mattress made of worn foam—hell, he spent most of his time sleeping there anyway—but he knew werebears needed to eat every couple hours without fail. Their super-fast metabolisms depended on constant nourishment. He’d give Samantha another thirty minutes before she’d come begging him for a bag of greasy chips. Then he’d begin negotiations before they even made it to the mediator’s table.
His spot on the couch gave him a perfect view of the top of the stairs and the open hallway leading to the vending machine. He peeled back the wrapper on his candy bar and enjoyed the melty mixture of chocolate and caramel. Samantha’s door creaked open. It’d only been a few minutes, and disappointment that she’d given in a little too fast followed his last bite. He’d expected a little more of a fight from her.
Instead of coming down the stairs, she walked the length of the hallway to the vending machine and taped a piece of paper to the front. Without even giving him a glance, she stomped back to her room and slammed the door.
A couple passed by the entertainment room wearing expressions of long-suffering marital discord. He watched them ascend the stairs and walk to the end of the hallway. They stopped in front of the vending machine. Their expressions changed from exasperated to irritable as two pair of eyes landed on him.
The woman leaned over the railing and called down to Lisa who’d returned to her post at the front desk. The woman waved her up, and Lisa joined them in the hallway. She too read the note and turned a glare in his direction.
Uh oh. Carter shoved his wrapper inside one of the plastic bags full of his paid-for yet still ill-gotten gains. He tied both bags and planned to retreat to his truck, but Lisa bounded back down the stairs with the speed of a rabid marten chasing a rabbit and caught him in the entryway.
The top of the petite woman’s head barely made it to his shoulders. The piece of paper in her hand had the words the jerk on the couch has all the food. “Did you empty the vending machine?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Hunger?” He took a defensive position.
Her eyes narrowed to angry slits. “Give me those bags right now.”
“I paid for all of this.”
“I will open the machine and refund your money, but this is unacceptable.” She placed her hands on her hips and leaned forward. “And selfish.”
He heard the creak of Samantha’s door. He willed himself not to look, but her giggling at his scolding forced his eyes upward. Nothing more than her head peeked around the corner of the stairs. Once he made eye contact, she winked at him. His hands tightened on the bags of food. Damn that woman.
There wasn’t a single argument that wouldn’t make him look like a complete asshole, so he handed one bag to Lisa. “I’m keeping this other bag for any late night snacking I have to do from my truck bed.”
He stormed out the front double doors and tossed the bag of snacks inside his truck. The muscles in the back of his neck and shoulders knotted. A native run would work off his frustration and help him to regroup. The deep forest surrounding the lodge probably wasn’t safe, but the need to shift and roar outweighed the concern of catching a bullet. The heady scent of wild roses and spruce trees filled the air.
He cracked his knuckles and followed a worn path not far from the parking lot. After making a sharp turn off the path he counted out one hundred paces. All he needed was a quick shift and roll in the dirt. Maybe he’d sharpen his claws and leave his mark on a couple of trees. He lifted his head high and sniffed again, using his bear senses to check for any humans in the area. Certain he was alone, he shucked his clothes and tossed them behind a nearby tree.
He shifted to bear form and stretched every muscle in his body. With a little over an hour left before the mediation meeting, he trotted farther into the forest, careful to count his steps. As a young bear, his brothers had delighted in the fact his internal GPS system failed on more than one occasion. He broke into a small clearing and decided he’d gone far enough. After he dropped to the ground and rolled on his back for a good ten minutes, he counted his way back to the tree with his clothes.
Except there were no clothes.
He sniffed hard to his left and right to be sure he’d come back to the same spot where he’d started. A silver wrapper lying near a tree caught his attention, and he shifted back to human. He picked it up and twisted it between his fingers. Samantha’s familiar sweet scent stuck to the wrapper. Sloping handwriting formed one word: Gotcha.
He lifted his head and barked a laugh that echoed off the tops of the trees. Her pranks could give his younger twin brothers a run for their money. From what he’d heard, the boys had needled her and Bobbie mercilessly before Grant stepped in and put an end to their pranks. He couldn’t muster an ounce of anger at her payback.
The walk of shame back to the parking lot would give him time to think up a new strategy. He stayed along the tree line just on the other side of the trail. One or two people walked by for an afternoon hike, but luck stayed on his side, and nobody noticed him. The last thing he needed was to be arrested for indecent exposure. As he came to the edge of the parking lot, he noticed his truck had been moved up to sit in front of the main entrance. Samantha lay on the hood in cut off shorts and the button-up shirt she’d stolen from his clothes pile in the woods. He had no choice but to walk to the fr
ont of the building with all his best parts dangling in the warm summer breeze.
Samantha glanced in his direction and gave him a finger wave.
He wasn’t gaining any traction in this prank-for-prank game. He needed to come up with something new and fast. With no other option available, he walked naked through the parking lot and refused to cover himself in the process. He stood in front of his truck with feet spread apart and arms crossed.
Samantha’s broad smile faded as her gaze drifted the length of his body. Splotches of red creeped up her pale neck and settled on her cheeks. She averted her eyes and stumbled off the hood of the truck, hitting the ground with a whompf. He strutted over to stand in front of her, and she scrambled from her knees to standing. “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen a Wright naked.”
She referred to the situation a few weeks ago when she and Bobbie helped his brothers out of a jam. Still, he’d heard the account from both his brothers, and neither mentioned a sudden nervousness on her part when they’d been left baring their attributes. Shifters didn’t do modesty much.
Samantha stood and looked everywhere but directly at him. “Not that I make a habit of that. I mean, seeing your brothers naked. Seriously, you can get your clothes now.”
He stepped closer and watched her breathing speed up and her fidgeting increase.
Samantha tossed him the keys to his truck. She turned and half-jogged through the front doors of the lodge. He’d seen it. A spark of something had darkened her eyes. And here he’d thought she didn’t harbor any of the attraction from their younger years. He crawled into the cab of his truck and dialed the hardware store on his cell.
His brother Ray answered on the fourth ring. “Wright’s Hardware.”
“Bro.”
“How’s it going?”
“Samantha is giving the twins a ridiculous amount of competition in the prank department.” He relayed the day’s events to his brother who in turn laughed.
Bearly Loving: Foxhollow Den #2 (Alaskan Den Men Book 10) Page 2
