“Hey, can you write?” he demanded.
The kid turned around. “What?”
“I said, can you write?”
The kid’s acne-pocked face puckered in confusion and he ran a hand through a mop of lank hair. “Of course I can. Everyone can fucking write, dude.”
Olsen let out a roar, and before he knew it, he’d pinned the kid against the brick wall, with one of his massive hands wrapped around his neck. The kid’s eyes bulged.
“Don’t hurt me. Please. I didn’t do anything!” he choked.
Olsen loosened his grip. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was just asking a simple question.”
The kid lifted his hand to his throat, as if to protect it from a further attack, and his jaw worked up and down. “You want to know if I can write? Sure I can. I can write anything you want.”
“Good. Because this keyboard is too small for my hands.” Olsen let go of him altogether, and he slumped against the wall. Olsen yanked his phone out of his pocket, tapped on the reply button underneath Dolores’ message, and thrust it at the boy. “Okay, write this: I wish things were different.”
The kid’s hands were shaking badly. “I wish things were different?” he confirmed.
“Yup. Do it.”
“Okay. Anything else?”
“Nope. That’s it.” Olsen snatched the phone back and stared at the tangle of black lines. There was one short, straight line, then the rest were clustered into four groups. He guessed that was right.
“Can I go, mister?” the kid stuttered.
Olsen’s head jerked in surprise. “Yeah. Go.” The kid didn’t need to be told twice. He was back inside like a cat with someone’s foot up its ass. Olsen hit the ‘send’ button and took the regular route back into the bar.
I wish things were different. That said everything and nothing. He already wished he’d picked better words.
“They are different,” a voice said from somewhere behind him. A female voice, as sweet as the sound of music, but strong. So strong that it reached deep inside him, all the way to his bones. He spun around.
Dolores was standing in front of him, still in that beautiful dress, arms crossed, feet planted wide apart, and green eyes blazing with determination.
“I'm not giving up on you, Olsen.”
“Dolores! How the hell did you –?” he stuttered. She lifted her hand and waved her phone.
“Shiftr has a neat little feature. It enables you to find out how far away your matches are. I just followed the highway north, trying to close down the distance between us.” Her lips curved with a hint of triumph. Olsen’s mouth fell open. What a woman. He knew she was smart. But seriously, she was off the scale.
“You’re a very smart person, Dolores,” he managed to say.
“And so are you, Olsen. Which is why I've come here to help you. I’m going to teach you to read so you can see that it’s not a big deal and so you don't have to feel bad about the fact that you never learned.”
He shook his head. “Thanks. But I don't need your help. I'm just gunna go live in the forest by myself. Bears don’t need to read.”
“You do need my help. Because you’re not completely a bear. Anyone can see that. I'm not giving up on you. I’ll just keep on following you.”
“I'll just turn that feature off.” She raised an eyebrow. They both knew he didn’t know how to do that. “Okay, I'll throw the damn phone away.”
“Olsen, just try it, please. Give it a chance. Three lessons. And if you don’t like it, we can stop. What do you have to lose?”
He stared at her. So beautiful, so determined. And the only person in the world who really gave a damn about him. He bent forward, until she became a beautiful blur in front of his eyes, and his lips met hers once more. His bear let off a deep rumble. Her eyes flew open, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she responded to him just like before, those soft, cherry red lips moving against his own. Gently, more gently than he’d done anything before, he took her head in his hands, then began to kiss her more deeply. Her lips parted, welcoming him in, the tip of her silvery tongue touching his own, dancing around it. Her hair was like silk in his fingers, and her full breasts pushed against his chest. But from the other side, his bear pushed at his skin. He wanted her bad. Needed her more than he’d needed anything in his life. He put his arms around her hips and lifted her right off the ground, not caring whether anyone was watching. She was in his arms. All of her. That sweet, curvy body of hers, completely surrounding him with her incredible scent. He felt himself hardening beneath the zipper of his jeans, and he jerked back a little. Yes, he wanted her, but he wanted to be gentle with her. She’d had enough pain in her life. He wasn’t going to push her too hard.
She tore herself away from the kiss, laughing.
“Is that a yes?” she asked.
He frowned. “Is what a yes?”
She reached up and ruffled his hair, her eyes dancing with amusement.
“I’m going to be your teacher: yes?”
He broke into a grin. “Yes.” He’d agree to anything, just as long as she’d kiss him like that one more time. “Yes!” he shouted, and drew her into another searing kiss. She wanted him too. He could smell the sweet scent of her arousal, feel how tight her thighs gripped his hips.
“Olsen?”
“Whuh?” he mumbled.
“You should probably put me down. People are staring.”
“Oh. Sorry.” He slid her gently back down to the ground. Now she barely came up to his pecs again.
“I don’t know about you, but I need a drink. It’s been a long day.”
“Sure thing. What are you having?” He turned to the bar.
“I was planning on buying my own drink.”
“No. Not happening.”
She shrugged. “Okay, Mister Stubborn. I’ll have a glass of white wine.”
The bartender shrugged. It evidently wasn’t the kind of place where people ordered wine. Olsen handed Dolores the drink and she sniffed it delicately. He watched her in fascination. Everything she did was so refined. She made him feel like more of a clumsy oaf than ever. But at the same time, she made him feel good. Made him feel like he was worth something.
“Let’s go sit in the corner over there and we can make a plan for your lessons,” she said.
They didn’t talk about the lessons very much. No sooner had her soft thigh pressed against his than they fell into each other again. She fit so perfectly in his arms, and he lost all sense of time as he drank her in. He didn’t want to stop, scared that he’d never get the chance to touch her again.
At last, their embrace was interrupted by a throat being cleared very deliberately, inches away. Olsen broke off the kiss, his head snapping toward the unwelcome intrusion. A biker in leathers and a greasy bandana was leering at them. “Are you gunna get a room, or am I gunna have to take that sweet thing off-a you?”
Olsen’s bear let off a warning rumble and his nostrils flared. He figured he could take the biker apart with his claws in approximately five seconds. Slit that dumb, leering face right open. And then another five identical-looking humans arrived right behind the first one. His bear snarled. He could take all of them apart in a minute, tops. He braced his hands on the table top, preparing to get to his feet. He wasn’t supposed to shift in public. Connor had drummed that into him a thousand times. But his bear was beginning to force its way out, its claws bursting through his finger tips, and his joints crunching, while his face tingled with the tell-tale sign that clumps of fur were starting to emerge.
“Olsen!” A small, soft hand touched his arm. He looked down. Dolores was looking at him in horror. She was disgusted by the sight of him shifting. He froze, totally conflicted. He needed to protect her. But to protect her meant he was probably going to lose her. His head spun. He wasn’t good at dealing with things like this.
“What’s the matter, big guy, what kind of a pussy are you?” one of the bikers sneered, taking a step closer.
&nbs
p; Olsen snapped. He hauled himself to his feet, his fists bunching, holding back his shift with every ounce of his strength. He was going to have to fight them as a man. All five of them. Six identical expressions passed across their eyes. He was bigger than they’d realized. They pulled away from him, cast glances at each other. Then the ringleader, the one who’d approached him first, slid a hand into his belt, returning with something that glinted silver in the darkness. A blade. Six inches long at least.
“Outside,” he snarled.
In the circumstances, that seemed like the best possible idea. Olsen smiled at them, as if he thought they were telling a hilarious joke, then, in a flash, he swept Dolores up in his arms and sprinted out of the bar with her.
I’m not going to fight. I’m not going to fight, he told himself as he carried her over to his car. But it was too late. He only had time to hit the unlock button on his key fob before it happened. There was a loud ripping sound as his clothes fell off him in shreds, and a second later, he crashed to the ground on all fours. A huge brown bear. The biggest of his clan. The biggest bear of his previous clan. He watched as Dolores’ eyes widened with terror and she snatched at the driver’s side door, hauled it open and climbed in. His throat tightened. She was terrified of him. But the clunk as she hit the button locking all the doors at once took his adrenaline down a couple of notches. She was safe. That was the important thing.
The bikers had followed them out of the bar, and Olsen turned in time to see them skidding to a halt, mouths hanging open in disbelief. But each of them clutched a nasty-looking blade in his hand. He paused long enough to make a decision. Only one of them was really responsible. The others were just his minions. He let off a roar of attack, and pounced.
After that, it didn’t take long. There were a few superficial cuts here and there – flesh wounds that he barely even felt – but in less than 30 seconds, five bikers, each bleeding from slash wounds, ran for their lives, screaming in pain. One lay almost motionless on the ground. He paused, caught his breath, looked around. Made certain that he hadn’t been observed. The parking lot was deserted and the rear of the bar was in darkness. Swiftly, he caught the body of the vicious thug by the back of the neck and dragged him over to the trash area at the back of the bar, hauling him right into the dumpster. Let him have all the garbage and the stink to deal with on top of the pain when he comes around. He closed the lid of the dumpster and walked back to his car at snail’s pace. Now was the hard part. The part where he had to face Dolores and see the fear and disgust in her face.
Her face was pressed to the window, eyes huge and skin drained of color. His claws curled around the door handle, and her eyes got even bigger. He froze, cursing himself. You need to shift, idiot. He located his shredded clothes, lying in a heap on the tarmac, hunched over them, and forced his huge body to contract and reshape itself into its human form again. It was fast, but his human skin burned from the knife wounds he’d sustained. He sorted through the rags on the ground. His stretchy undershorts were still intact, apart from some small tears at the sides. He pulled them on fast. His T-shirt was ripped all the way up the front, but he put it on anyway. His jeans were beyond help though, torn into two separate pieces. Feeling as foolish as he’d ever felt before, he stepped into his boots and returned to the car. His hands trembled as he opened the driver-side door. And Dolores fell into his arms.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair, as she clung tight to him.
She shot backward at least six inches. “What for? You were amazing, Olsen. Those guys had knives. All six of them. God! I was so worried about you!” She burst into tears.
He pressed her against his bare chest and rubbed her back, trying not to register how nice it felt to have her soft face against his bare skin. “You don’t hate me?” he murmured when her sobs had subsided.
This time, she didn’t pull away. Instead she tilted her chin and gazed up at him, the greenness of her eyes brighter than ever. “Hate you? Why would I?”
“Because you saw me as I am. As a violent, uncivilized bear.”
“I know you’re a bear, Olsen.”
“But what I did to those guys –”
She pressed one of her small fingers to his lip. “You had to protect yourself. And as much as I’ve been refusing to believe it, some people just don’t have good intentions. Six months ago, I never thought I’d say something like that. But things have changed a lot in my life.”
“What happened to you, Dolores?” His eyes moved automatically to the scar on the side of her head.
“I can’t tell you. Not yet anyway,” she whispered.
“Okay. I won’t push you now.”
She squeezed his forearm. “What’s going to happen with that – that man?”
He sighed. “My guess is that the others will collect him and get out of here. The last thing they’ll want is for the cops to start investigating their lives. Oh, and he’ll have one hell of a headache when he comes around.”
“But won’t they want to get revenge on you?”
He gave a short laugh. “After they saw me turn into a bear? No. I think they’ll probably never mention the incident again.”
“Okay,” she replied, blinking fast, as if she was processing all the information. “You know, I’m really tired, but it’s a long way back to Hope Valley. I’m wondering if there’s a motel anywhere around.” She rummaged in her purse and took out her phone. “Looks like there is – a half mile away.”
She got into her own car and they drove there together. When they arrived, Olsen took a fresh set of clothes out of the duffel bag where he’d stuffed his few possessions and pulled them on, before joining Dolores in the lobby. The motel looked to be mostly empty, and they got a single room each, next door to each other.
“It’s sure been an interesting day,” she said, lingering in her doorway as they said goodnight, eyes huge in her tiny face.
“It has,” he replied. “Thank you, Dolores. Thank you for not giving up on me.”
She broke into a grin. “That was never going to happen. Okay, I’ll see you in the morning. I guess we’d better be up around five. It’s a long drive back to Hope Valley.”
“Sure thing.” He stood and waited until she’d closed her door and fastened the chain with a rustle, every nerve, every muscle in his body yearning to follow her inside.
15
When Dolores’ alarm went off the next morning, she felt like she’d only been asleep for a couple of hours. She groaned and swatted at her phone until it stopped screaming. And then she rolled onto her back and opened her eyes. She blinked several times. Where the hell am I? And then she remembered. Yesterday. Chasing Olsen all the way up the highway. The bar. Those kisses. His arms around her. Then the bikers. It already had the fuzziness of a surreal dream.
But it was all real. And she was currently 150 miles north of Hope Valley and due to start work in – uh, three hours’ time. She jumped out of bed, pulled on her pants and a shirt, and headed to the bathroom to wash her face and try to get her hair under some kind of control. After she ran her fingers through her unruly curls a few times, she looked a little less like she’d been caught in a hurricane. Although, her face was a different story. Her eyes were a little bloodshot, and purple shadows bloomed beneath them. She looks like hell, and it was going to be a long day. But it was all worth it. Olsen was going to come back to Hope Valley, and she was going to teach him to read. That was, if he hadn’t run off again in the middle of the night. A little flutter of adrenaline quickened her pulse as she rinsed her mouth with water, grabbed a stick of chewing gum out of her purse, and hurtled out of the room.
And then she drew a sharp breath in. Olsen was standing right in front of her. All six foot six of him. And his fist was raised, inches from her face. The expression on his face was incredible.
“I was just coming to wake you,” he said sheepishly, letting his arm fall to his side.
“Really? I thought you were coming to give
me a black eye.” They both burst out laughing. Even at that time in the morning, he looked great. Not sluggish and half asleep like she was, but bursting with animal vitality.
“Are you ready to leave? I figured we could grab breakfast on the way if we make good time.”
“Sounds good to me,” she replied, far too tired to be hungry. They got into their separate cars and Dolores began to follow Olsen along the highway as they headed south.
The road was empty, and Olsen drove fast, pushing eighty the entire way. Dolores woke up fully as soon as they hit the highway, and she began to enjoy the drive, staying 500 feet behind Olsen’s truck, daydreaming about him, about the way his lips had felt on hers, about the incredible sensation of being taken in his arms last night.
When they were three quarters of the way back to Hope Valley, Olsen’s brake lights lit up and his right indicator went on. Dolores hit the brake too and followed him off the highway into the parking lot of a diner. By now, her stomach was rumbling, and when Olsen ordered double egg muffins with extra bacon, she got the same. Most of the tables were taken, so they opted to sit on the low wall beside their cars. The muffins were delicious, and the coffee was good and hot, and for a few minutes they ate in silence, quietly enjoying each other’s company. Whenever he wasn’t looking in her direction, she cast sly glances at him, drinking in the muscularity of his body, the easy, confident way he carried himself.
“Dolores,” Olsen said suddenly, breaking through the silence.
“Yes?” As she met his eyes, she was startled by something very serious in his expression.
“I’m sorry about last night. I mean, for kissing you. I didn’t mean to. It just happened in the heat of the moment.”
A chill ran down her spine, and the bite of muffin she’d just taken turned to cardboard in her mouth. Didn’t mean to? She gulped her food down with an effort.
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