He smiled wryly. Even when he’d still been a newbie on a job site, no one had ever accused him of being too nice.
Then Zack Barenkamp’s voice, pitched low but still perfectly audible to Tyler’s shifter hearing, asked, “Hey, did anyone ever investigate the fire at Mike Swanson’s place? That happened right about the time Tyler returned to town, didn’t it?”
His tone was laced with sly innuendo, and he made a show of looking Tyler up and down before adding, “The timing is kinda suspicious, don’t you think? I’m just sayin’…”
The blood roared through Tyler’s head as the dizzying surge of rage returned.
“Yeah, so what exactly are you saying?” Tyler demanded.
He heard the growl tinging his voice and saw the startled expressions on the two Ordinary firefighters who’d been talking to Zack. Tyler’s skin felt like it was being attacked by hundreds of tattoo needles as his bear rose, and he knew that his eyes were probably tinged with gold.
He fought for control, forcing his bear back down.
Shifters were an open secret in Bearpaw Ridge, but still, there were a lot of Ordinaries who didn’t know and shouldn’t know. And Tyler was old enough that he shouldn’t be losing control like this, but he’d been feeling off-balance ever since kissing Mary this morning.
Zack smirked at him. Like all the Barenkamps, he had red hair and densely freckled skin. Tyler noticed that Zack’s hair was beginning to thin a bit on top, but the years hadn’t diluted the venom in his brown eyes one bit.
“I’m saying that maybe you’re trying to set yourself up as some kind of hero by making sure that you’ve got some fires to fight—”
“You’d better not finish that sentence, asshole.” Tyler couldn’t suppress the rage that flowed like liquid lava through his veins, and he didn’t even try to conceal the growl this time.
Dimitri Medved, the other newbie firefighter in the department, moved to stand next to Tyler in a show of support that surprised him. “So does this mean I’m a suspect too?” he asked. “Because I moved here about the same time Tyler did.”
Dimitri was a few years younger than Tyler and was freshly graduated from some Ivy League college. He still looked like a manicured banker despite his jeans and cowboy boots. The product in his hair and the faint scent of expensive aftershave undermined his attempts to look like he’d been born and raised in Bearpaw Ridge instead of Manhattan.
He’d moved to Bearpaw Ridge after his sister Nika had mated and married Dane’s youngest brother Ash.
Nika and Ash had recently relocated to Seattle so that she could finish medical school, but Dimitri had chosen to stay in Bearpaw Ridge. He was currently living in Ash’s house on the Grizzly Creek Ranch and serving as chief financial officer for Ash’s wildly successful online gaming company.
Tyler couldn’t imagine what made Bearpaw Ridge better than New York City. Then again, he’d been a guest at Ash and Nika’s infamously eventful wedding. No one would forget that anytime soon, not with the FBI making a surprise appearance, not to mention Nika’s baby.
Nika and Dimitri’s parents were currently in jail, awaiting trial on money laundering charges, and their kids didn’t want anything to do with them.
Why the hell is he standing up for me? We haven’t done more than say hello at one of Aunt Elle’s dinners.
Zack made a show of looking Dimitri over and said, “Nah, not you. You look like the kind of new blood we need in this town…not like Juvie Swanson over there. He looks like the kind of guy who’d really get off on setting a fire and rescuing that hot cop chick, ya know what I’m saying?”
The sound of his old nickname goaded Tyler beyond endurance. So he did what he’d always wanted to do back in his high school days.
He drew back his fist and punched Zack Barenkamp’s smirking face.
It felt good, especially when Tyler saw the look of pure shock on Zack’s ugly mug.
He obviously hadn’t expected his onetime victim to fight back.
Yeah, well, I’m not a skinny freshman anymore, and you’re not bigger than I am now.
Zack got over his surprise pretty quickly.
“You fucking thug!” he snarled as he lunged for Tyler’s throat.
Only to have Dane grab his shoulder and pull him sideways before slamming him down onto the nearest table.
At the same instant, Tyler felt Dimitri’s arms close around him like thick steel cables and yank him backwards out of the way.
“What the hell is going on here?” Dane snarled, easily pinning Zack to the tabletop with one hand between his shoulders.
He glared at Tyler with hazel eyes that were gilded with shifter gold. He continued in a voice tight with suppressed anger. “I don’t care if you’re volunteers, I expect you all to represent the fire department like adults. Professional adults…especially in front of someone from the State Fire Marshal’s office.”
Tyler’s jaw muscles clamped down hard on his desire to justify his action. Dane was right—Tyler had let his temper get the better of him, and all he’d done just now was prove to all his fellow firefighters that he hadn’t changed a bit since his high school days.
Then Dimitri spoke up. “Zack accused Tyler of setting the fire at his parents’ home and also Mary Jacobsen’s house this morning.”
“I did not—” Zack began to protest.
“You did. I heard you. And so did these guys.” Dimitri released his hold on Tyler and pointed at the two Ordinary firefighters who had been standing nearby.
“Yeah,” Soren Hermann said. Sounding reluctant, he added, “I’d have punched Zack too, if he’d said that shit about me.”
“Do you have any proof?” Owen asked Zack sternly.
Dane released him, and Zack pushed himself sullenly upright.
“Uh…” His cheeks flushed under a layer of orange stubble. He glared at Tyler. “Everyone knows that he’s the kind of guy who’d—”
“Not good enough,” Owen snapped. “You don’t accuse anyone—much less a fellow firefighter—unless you have proof, Zack.”
Tyler took a deep breath. It was almost impossible for a shifter to lie to another shifter. All the shifters in this room would know his next words were the absolute truth.
“Look, I know I did some epically stupid shit back in my high school days, but I’ve never set any fucking fires. Not then. And not now.”
“And there you have it,” Dane snapped. “Zack, you owe Tyler an apology.”
Zack’s mouth thinned into a stubborn line. “Okay, maybe he didn’t set that fire this morning. But we all know that your cousin is bad news. Always has been.”
And with that, Tyler was just fucking done. He knew Dane wouldn’t let him beat the shit out of Zack like Zack deserved, so he needed to get out of here and get some fresh air before he lost control of his temper again.
“Fuck you,” he snarled at Zack and headed for the exit.
He heard comments and questions rising behind him and Zack’s voice filling everyone in on Tyler’s past misdeeds. His shoulders tensed with the desire to tear Zack limb from limb, but he just kept going.
Tyler’s thoughts were bitter as he emerged from the firehouse and strode rapidly down the sidewalk in the direction of his house.
Why the hell did I bother to join the fire department, anyway? Ash was wrong. It’s not like anyone is ever going to forget the past…or forgive me for it.
“Hey.” A heavy hand clapped him on the shoulder. “What’s the hurry?”
Tyler swung around in surprise. He hadn’t realized that anyone had followed him out, much less his cousin Mark, who was the town’s lawyer.
“Trying to drum up business because you think I’m gonna get myself arrested soon?” Tyler favored Mark with a humorless grin.
He turned around and resumed walking, hoping that Mark would get the hint. Tyler needed some time to cool down and consider his next move.
Instead, Mark easily fell into stride next to Tyler.
“Nope. If anyo
ne is going to need a lawyer, it’s going to be Loudmouth Zack back there, especially if he keeps slandering people.”
“So you don’t believe I’m the town arsonist?” Tyler was aiming for sarcastic, but his words landed squarely on hopeful.
Mark rolled his eyes and didn’t bother to reply.
“So what do you want?” Tyler demanded after a few more steps.
Mark’s answer was unexpected. “Mom wants to know why you and Phoebe haven’t come to Sunday dinner in a while.”
Tyler groaned. Aunt Elle was the Swanson clan matriarch, and she expected all the Swansons to attend her big Sunday family dinners at least occasionally.
He’d gone once or twice when he’d first arrived in town, mostly because his own mom had asked him to accompany her. As an Ordinary, Mom had always found Elle Swanson intimidating, and Elle’s pack of big bear-shifter sons hadn’t made Tyler’s mom feel any more at ease.
Not even the presence of Elle’s Ordinary daughters-in-law and the grandkids had seemed to help.
“I’ve been busy,” Tyler said. “And Mom hasn’t really felt up to it.”
That won him a thin smile from Mark. “Well, I’ve been sent to tell you that my Mom expects you this Sunday at 5:30 p.m. sharp. And that you’re welcome to bring a guest…if you want.” The smile deepened into something knowing.
Tyler groaned again. “Jeez, I’d forgotten what living in a small town was like. In Portland, people mostly mind their own fucking business.”
He really hoped that all the rumors apparently flying around wouldn’t spook Mary. He really wanted to kiss her again…and more. A lot more.
“Well, you’re not in Portland anymore,” Mark said, smirking. “So don’t forget about dinner. Or Mom will…well, let’s just say, you’re much better off hauling your ass over to the ranch on Sunday. See you then.”
Chapter 8 – Home Cooking
When Mary returned to Tyler’s house after work that evening, she was greeted by the savory smells of simmering tomatoes with garlic and herbs mingled with browned Italian sausage.
Other than her house fire that morning, there had been no emergencies in Bearpaw Ridge, so her work day had consisted of routine traffic stops and citizen complaints.
Still, she felt completely wrung-out by the unrelenting heat, general lack of sleep, and a day spent endlessly recounting events surrounding the fire. Everyone had asked her about it—her fellow sheriff’s deputies, her pack mates, all her friends and neighbors.
She’d even been asked about the fire while issuing a speeding ticket to Ernie Ornelas’s son Davy, who’d just gotten his driver’s license.
Worse yet, the final couple hours of her shift had seen a barrage of incoming text messages from her parents, friends, and various members of her pack, all giving her wildly varying accounts of Tyler’s fight with Zack Barenkamp at the firehouse. She was almost sorry that she’d gotten another phone so quickly.
It had taken only a few minutes for her cellphone carrier to transfer her old number to the new phone, and then she had downloaded all of her backed-up contacts and data.
Mary knew Zack—they’d been high school classmates, and in the years since, she’d confronted him on a few Saturday nights with “drunk and disorderly” complaints. She’d never arrested him, though, just let him off with a warning and occasionally given him a lift home to sober up.
She wondered what had really started the fight. Despite Tyler’s reputation, it seemed unlikely that he’d decided to beat up Zack out of the blue.
On cue, her phone buzzed with yet another text message. She glanced at it as she walked through the front door of Tyler’s house. The text was from her mom.
Sweetie, I just heard from Nikki Blackpaw. She says she’d be happy to rent you a room. Please call her.
Mary grimaced and put the phone back in her pocket. Nikki was nice, and she lived here in town, but she was also a huge gossip, and Mary knew that she’d never have any privacy—or secrets—if she became Nikki’s roommate.
As she stepped into the blessedly air-conditioned living room, Bogey the parrot greeted her with a wolf whistle and a “Hey, baby!”
Mary laughed and felt some of her annoyance drain away.
“Hey there yourself, birdie,” she called and wolf-whistled right back at him.
To her delight, the big yellow-and-green parrot rewarded her with a girlish-sounding giggle.
“Your timing is perfect. The pasta sauce is done, and all I have to do is cook the ravioli,” Tyler called from the kitchen. “Hope you’re hungry.”
He smiled at her, and Mary felt warmth blossom in her chest. She caught sight of the steaming pots and pans on the stove behind him as well as mixing bowls and a pasta roller in the midst of the flour-dusted granite countertop.
He made ravioli from scratch? For me?
“You didn’t have to go through all that trouble—” she began to protest, though she felt like crying with joy at the thought of a home-cooked meal after the day she’d just had.
“Nah,” Tyler interrupted her. “I like cooking, and it’s easier to make food for two people than one. I hope you like sausage, spinach, and ricotta filling for the ravioli. I put the rest of the sausage in the sauce.”
“That sounds delicious,” Mary assured him, inhaling all the delicious scents. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Tyler shook his head. “The ravioli only need a few minutes, so why don’t you go wash up, change your clothes, whatever? I’ll cook the ravioli whenever we’re ready for the main course. We can start with the salad and the antipasto platter in the meanwhile.”
The dining table was set with two places, with a bottle of Italian Chianti opened to breathe and a large bowl of Caesar salad set next to a platter of pickled vegetables, olives, sliced cheese, and salami. There was also a wedge of ivory-colored Parmesan cheese sitting next to a long silver grater.
Her mouth watering in anticipation, Mary hurried to her new bedroom. It felt good to change out of her uniform and into an airy sundress. She stood under the ceiling vent for a long moment, relishing the gentle breath of cool air against her bare arms and shoulders.
She hoped the heat wave would break soon, but in the meanwhile, she was really, really glad that Tyler’s house had air conditioning.
Then she went into the bathroom to wash her face and hands in cool water. Her cheeks were flushed—it’s a hot day outside, she told herself—and she found herself hesitating whether to leave her shoulder-length hair in its ponytail or to wear it loose.
She found herself remembering the sizzling kiss she had shared with Tyler this morning, and she yanked the elastic off before combing through her hair with her fingers.
I really have to remember to buy a new hairbrush.
Still, it didn’t look too bad. Except now she was feeling weirdly nervous.
Is he going to kiss me again? And do I want him to?
Yes! Her wolf and her heart both shouted in unison.
A vision of her mother’s disappointed expression rose in her mind’s eye. Oh Mary, not another bear shifter?
Mary scowled at herself in the mirror. Am I really falling for Tyler Swanson, of all people?
Her wolf spoke up unexpectedly. I like the way he smells. He makes us feel safe. And we liked the way he kissed us this morning.
The memory of that kiss had been haunting her all day, breaking into her thoughts at the most unexpected moments.
Maybe it’s just because it’s been such a long time since I’ve dated anyone.
Mary gave herself a final once-over in the mirror and then hurried out into the kitchen-living room area.
Tyler, who was wearing a floury canvas apron over his tight dark-red T-shirt, met her at the dining room table. He poured and handed her a glass of the red wine, which smelled of strawberries and a faint hint of cocoa, and pulled out a chair for her.
Who’d have thought he could be such a gentleman?
Then he took a seat opposite her.
&nbs
p; “So how’d your day go?” he asked, scooping up a generous portion of salad with a pair of large wooden tongs and putting it on her plate.
Mary sipped at her wine and savored it. She could feel all the day’s tension and fatigue draining away.
“Not bad, except for the part where this is a really a small town, and everyone wanted me to tell them about the fire.” She took another sip of the wine.
He gave her a sympathetic grimace. “Well, I promise I won’t ask you any questions about that. I mean, I was there too, right?”
“Right,” Mary agreed and raised her glass to him in a toast.
What was it about the town’s bad boy that made her feel so comfortable? So…safe?
“How was your day?” she asked with interest as she dug into the salad.
Tyler’s fork stopped halfway to his lips. He raised his brows. “You mean you didn’t hear about the, uh, incident at the firehouse?”
“Oh, I got a text message from my nephew Ethan pretty much right away,” she admitted. “And then everyone else chimed in with the gory details.”
As if to prove her point, the phone stashed in the pocket of her sundress buzzed with an incoming message. She didn’t bother to look at it.
“And you’re having second thoughts about your lease?” Tyler asked in a tone so elaborately casual that she knew immediately that he cared about her answer more than he wanted to admit.
“Nope,” she reassured him. “If you really are an unreformed thug, then it’s my duty as a law enforcement officer to keep an eye on you.”
She was enjoying his astonished expression when her phone buzzed again.
Her pack was definitely mustering the troops, trying to convince her to find another place to live. After hearing Zack Barenkamp’s version of this afternoon’s incident, they’d been quick to put on the pressure.
Even her Gramps had texted her. That Tyler boy’s always been bad news. How can you rest easy under the same roof?
She gave Tyler what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Besides, I haven’t heard your side of the story yet. If you want to talk about it, I mean.”
Relief flickered across his features then vanished. “I lost my temper like a dumbass,” he admitted, looking down and concentrating on spearing lettuce with his fork. “It’s just that Zack was telling everyone that I was the one setting the fires—”
Smoke (Bearpaw Ridge Firefighters Book 7) Page 8
