by Sable Sylvan
The Little Bear Maid: A BBW Bear Shifter Billionaire Paranormal Romance Novella
Seattle's Billionaire Bears, Volume 4
Sable Sylvan
Published by Sable Sylvan Romance, 2016.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
THE LITTLE BEAR MAID: A BBW BEAR SHIFTER BILLIONAIRE PARANORMAL ROMANCE NOVELLA
First edition. October 6, 2016.
Copyright © 2016 Sable Sylvan.
Written by Sable Sylvan.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
Sneak Peek: Grizzly Bear Buns
About The Author
Chapter One
There was one thing that Carmen Jackson didn’t like about her job. Well. There were many things, but the big one was the rule that the customer was always right.
This meant that when someone insisted a brand new sponge be used to clean their counter after she’d cleaned their sink, she had to go get a new sponge. This meant that when somebody told her they wanted the fitted sheets folded a certain way, she had to do it, even if they would wrinkle. The people that told Carmen what to do were people that often
a.) had no idea what they were talking about and
b.) obviously had no clue how to clean if they were hiring a service to do it, and who
c.) assumed that because she was the maid, she was dumb.
These tough clients had no clue that
a.) they had no idea what they were talking about,
b.) they should just be quiet and let her do her job, and
c.) she was actually doing this as a summer job to pay for community college, so she could transfer to that prestigious four-year that had offered her a place in their business program, but not the financial aid to match it. She’d been working on finishing up her general education credits at a local community college but could only afford to take a few classes each year.
Inevitably, these customers would tell Carmen to do something their way rather than her way and the Quick-n-Fast Cleaners’ way. She would do it their weird way, something weird would happen. She would get a complaint, and so would the company, which would sit Carmen down and tell her not to do things the way the customer said, but to make the customer happy. Carmen had bit her tongue, because she needed this job, and just tried to keep customer complaints to a minimum.
This had all come to a head on one Friday afternoon. She had a full schedule of houses to clean before the weekend, in the wealthiest neighborhood in Seattle. One of her favorite clients was on the list, a man who always left her a generous tip, paid the service promptly, and best of all, who she had never met. This meant that he was never there to boss her around and tell her what she was inevitably doing wrong, according to his high and mighty standards.
This man’s condo was a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in bacon. It was the penthouse condo on the top of a luxury apartment building which had units that were more like full sized houses than apartments. The condo’s price said trust fund nouveau riche, but the decor said old money. Being able to figure out a person from their belongings was a skill that Carmen had acquired through her past two years of cleaning (full time in the summer, part time in the school year, with as many hours as she could muster during breaks). But the owner of this condo...he was inscrutable. She never went snooping, although she knew some of her coworkers did, and she worked alone, doing solo jobs, because cleaning was the one time she could really have alone time, except for the odd moments where the owners gave her unsolicited advice on how to do her job. She wasn’t about to ruin a good thing, and besides, it was a bit fun to have a mystery in her life.
The condo was always pretty clean, but not untouched from the week before. As the owner wasn’t there to let her in, she had a special keycard she could swipe to let herself in to do the cleaning. Wiping down the counters, doing a load of linens (there was rarely personal laundry left for her to do, and she only did laundry if there were specific orders to do laundry, which meant that she would be spending extra time in the penthouse that day) and dusting surfaces was usually the extent of what she had to do. Although the owner was a mystery, she’d gleaned things from her cleaning, not on purpose, but just intuitively through the process of cleaning the condo. After all, being a maid meant that she was privy to learning about people’s private lives, and this included learning about what things like one tooth brush in a cup by the bathroom sink indicated.
The owner was male, or likely male, as there were only male clothes in the bedroom and male products left on the counter in the bathroom. There had only ever been one tooth brush in the cup by the sink, changed regularly, which meant that this condo was lived in, but rarely ever had female company...because if they had, by now, Carmen would have found a lost lipstick or bobby pin around the apartment.
They had a high paying job, obviously, if they were able to afford a place like the condo, and they most likely were from a high class background, as they cleaned through the week and didn’t just leave a huge mess for her to deal with every week, and they tipped extremely generously. High class and wealthy...in Seattle, that spelled one thing. Shifter. Carmen sometimes found herself wondering just what kind of shifter the man was. His clothes were big, so wolf, lion, or something mystical like a gryphon seemed reasonable. Maybe he was a puma.
She’d never had to clean up any tell-tale messes that would let her know if the owner was the kind of shifter that, well, lost his shift. There were never any wine stains in the carpets, nor ripped up shirts in the bedroom...or, for that matter, ripped up sheets. The first time Carmen had found herself thinking about the owner as a shifter, she had found her cheeks burning hot. She imagined a man with an unknown nebulous face and form, which her imagination filled in sometimes as a blonde lion, others as a brunette grizzly, still others as a red-headed tiger, but with a taut, firm, tall body each time. Of course, shifters knew more than a thing or two about how to please a woman, with primal sexual appetites fed by their urge to find their fated mate. A fated mate: each shifter had a mark on their body that let them know who they were supposed to be with...kinda.
Carmen had learned about the fated mate system from an article in a women’s magazine known for giving fashion advice on one page and sex tips on the next. Shifters were known to be passionate lovers, because to them, sex was very important not just for mating, but for finding true love. Shifters had tattoo-like marks on their bodies (location varying, usually by species, although in the shifter world, anything could happen) which would let the shifter know who their fated mate was, through some process that seemed like it was out of a fantasy novel. The idea of having a man who would treat her well on the streets and in the sheets, who would love her forever, unconditionally, and who would forever be dedicated to her and their future children...well, it was definitely something that floated around in Carmen’s head, but she made sure to not let that distract her from her job, a job that reminded her that she wasn’t a princess, or even a lady in waiting, the job that reminded her she was just a maid to the modern day royals of Seattle.
Although Carmen had no idea what the mystery man looked like, she knew what he smelled like. Although the penthouse was always pristine, what lingered in the air was the smell of the man who owned the penthouse and who probably owned much of what he could view from the property’s large pane glass windows, which lined the living room walls. Although the penthouse was modern and glossy, it smelled...different, like something that didn’t belong in the concrete jungle, but miles out of the city limits in a lush forest. The smell was of pine, of roasted twigs, of a fresh animal scent that wasn’t musk, not sweat, but just smelled wild, untamed, and a bit spicy. She’d thought it must be a special candle of some kind, but when she went to wash the sheets the first week, she realized that it was the owner’s natural scent, and there was no frikkin’ way that the mystery man was spritzing on a fancy cologne before bed. That smell permeated all the laundry, even after it was washed, and she found herself smelling her clothes when she went home for the night, on the days that she had been assigned to clean the penthouse. Although the owner usually just asked for an hour or two of cleaning through the service, she relished the days where she was asked to spend three or four or even five hours in the penthouse, doing easy work like laundry and wiping down services, where, for a few hours, she could pretend that maybe, just maybe, this was her penthouse. After all, she seemed to be the only person, other than the owner, who visited the place, and there wasn’t much harm in playing housewife, even if it wasn’t exactly a princess fantasy out of a storybook...or was it?
It should’ve been the easiest job of her day...but she’d been overbooked that particular Friday. The service charged people for a full hour, minimum, and because Carmen did such a good and quick but thorough job, they booked her for a lot of small jobs that day, using a new system...but that system apparently hadn’t calculated the travel time between the places, and traffic didn’t help matters either. She was late for her last appointment of the day, by an hour. It was the condo owned by the mysterious rich man, which she’d always arrived at on time.
Carmen parked her car. She was over an hour late by that point. She rushed up to the penthouse condo with her buckets, through a service elevator. The building was large and fancy enough that there was service parking and service elevators for outside service people. She looked through her buckets. She had everything she’d need. She would of course clean the condo the best she could, but she was going to have to hurry. The condo owner was very particular about the time of day they wanted the condo to be cleaned, and had usually scheduled a regular cleaning every Friday at a certain hour, three in the afternoon, for the last year. This was not a person who liked to break routine.
The elevator stopped and she got out. She knocked on the door. There was no answer. She listened at the door and didn’t hear anything. That was good enough for her. She put her key in the slot to open the door.
Carmen looked around. The place, as usual, was the cleanest she’d seen all week. There, on the sideboard near the entrance, was her tip, two crisp twenties under a heavy paperweight. She pocketed the twenties and went to work. The usual suspects were all there: a light coating of dust on the furniture, some stains on the kitchen surfaces, and one day’s worth of plates in the sink. She put her supplies down in the kitchen and started working. It was always the same. Kitchen first, then living room, hallway, bedroom, and bathroom.
Carmen made quick work of the kitchen. She opened the fridge: nothing in there needed to be cleaned or thrown away, as she’d cleaned the fridge out with vinegar the week before. The freezer had been deiced that month, and it was still fine. The living room just needed some quick tidying up, the hallway needed dusting, and that left...just the bedroom and bathroom.
Carmen walked towards one of the penthouse’s many luxurious bathrooms. The one she was walking towards happened to have a rainfall style shower, as the master bedroom had a large hot tub style bathtub. She saw something she hadn’t seen before. It was a towel, on the floor. She picked it up. It was wet, to the point it had left a water stain in the carpet. She frowned. This wasn’t normal. Carmen lifted the towel up, and walked forward, towards the bedroom. She opened the door.
...and, before her very eyes, was the mystery client. It was a man, just like she guessed, and from his looks, at least, from behind, he was indeed a shifter. Tall, with dark brown hair, and thick muscles, he was buttoning up a shirt, already in a pair of designer jeans but not wearing any socks yet. His hair was wet, explaining where the towel came from, a towel Carmen was still holding.
Carmen dropped her cleaning supplies and the man turned. “Yes, can I help you?” asked the man slyly. “I don’t believe I ordered a woman...” Once he got a good look at Carmen, his smarmy line choked up in his throat. She was drop dead gorgeous. Thick hair. Thicker curves. A uniform that didn’t do much to accentuate either, with the mandatory bun and thick outfit that almost resembled a nurse’s scrubs. Even in those plain clothes, she was enough to make not only his cock twitch, but...his bear roar. That bear, the bear that he only really heard back down in his hometown of Port Jameson, Oregon...that bear had been woken by the mere sight of this gorgeous being. The grizzly got up and roared, telling the man that this was more than just any regular woman...that this could be the woman.
“I’m with the cleaning company,” said Carmen, blushing, turning away. “I had no idea you were home. I’m sorry, I—”
“I order a cleaning service to come by at...precisely three in the afternoon each Friday, because I am assured that they will have whoever comes to clean out of here within an hour, unless otherwise specified,” said the man. “To ensure that they are out within an hour, I leave a generous tip, and clean the best I can before they get here, the night before. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes, sir, I’m sorry, it’s just—” started Carmen.
“It’s just what?” asked the man. “It’s just that I held up my end of the bargain...and your company didn’t?”
“It’s not that, it’s, just, something came up today, and—” started Carmen.
“And what?” asked the man, stepping forward, towards Carmen, expecting the sexy woman in front of him to step back...but Carmen held her ground, not moving an inch, although she couldn’t stop her arms from quivering...which had the added effect of making her bust jiggle. The man’s cock stiffened in his pants as his eyes roamed the maid’s curves, which even the frumpiness of the uniform could not hide. “And so it’s not your company’s fault, it’s your fault?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry, I —” started Carmen.
The man couldn’t help it any longer. Seeing the woman in front of him, who, in her black uniform that barely hugged her curves, but which hinted at her voluptuousness, squirm in front of him, was a sign this prank had almost gone too far. “I’m kidding!” said the man, walking closer to Carmen. “Sorry for making a mess. I had no clue that you would be here, that much was true.”
“Oh,” said Carmen, flustered. She looked up at the man and frowned. He was much taller than her, and getting a better look at his face, he was very handsome, with a chiseled jaw line but no five-o-clock shadow. He must’ve shaved in the shower. “You shouldn’t joke around like that, it’s not very nice!”
The man was stunned. She really must’ve had no clue who he was. Nobody talked to him like that, not ever...but he liked it. Spunky. Sassy. Honest. With curves that could stop a grizzly in its tracks...this woman really was the whole package. “I’m sorry, I must offer my apologies,” said the man. “I didn’t mean to offend. It was just supposed to be a joke, but...”
“Ha-ha, gotcha back,” said Carmen, a wide grin spreading over her face. “Now you see what it’s like! Well, I’m Carmen. I’ve been cleaning your condo for the past, oh, forever, and I never ran into you before, obviously. I’m almost done cleaning, and I saw the towel on the floor and thought you just forgot to pick it up. You know, you keep the cleanest place on my list.”
“I do?” asked the man. “I’m surprised.
I was raised to always clean up after myself. I just have a service come to do the heavy and more intensive work...”
“Like cleaning the grout?” said Carmen. “Exactly! That’s what I would do if I had a service! I don’t get why people hire a service to do work they could themselves. They hire a solo maid for a two-hour job that should really take six hours, and complain when their place doesn’t look like Buckingham frikkin’ Palace!”
“Let me guess, the customer’s always right?” asked the man.
“Ugh, that’s the first rule of the job,” said Carmen.
“And the second?” asked the man.
“...It’s not to socialize with the owners,” said Carmen sheepishly.
“Well, I guess we broke that rule, so, no reason to throw the baby out with the bathwater,” said the man. “So...you’re the mystery woman who keeps my place looking shiny.
“And you are?” asked Carmen.
The man looked over her body. Was this another joke? No...her eyes looked genuinely inquisitive. She really had no frikkin’ idea who he was? His face graced a tabloid on a weekly basis, he was on the cover of magazines all the time. Everyone knew he had three commas in his bank account, that he was the Double-B word: a billionaire bear. And yet here she was, in his apartment, no, in his bedroom, as close to him as millions of woman wished they were, and she was asking who he was? “Aiden,” said the man, stretching his hand out. “Nice to meet you.”
“Aiden,” repeated Carmen, taking his hand. The name melted like chocolate in her mouth. “Well. It’s nice to meet you, Aiden, but if you’ll excuse me, I have to finish cleaning, I’m almost done, and I’m actually expected back at headquarters.” As Aiden pulled his hand away, Carmen snuck a look at it. Yup. There were the shifter marks. She was a human, but she knew the signs of a shifter. The tattoo-like marks...those were the mate marks that told a shifter who their true love was and its form and location varied by species and clan. So did the paw marks on their hands. The marks on Aiden’s hand were in the shape of a bear’s paw, and they were his paw marks. They were dark brown, and large. Grizzly. Probably a huge one at that. He wasn’t just a man who obviously had money and power in the human world...out in the wild, she’d be surprised if he couldn’t tear down a beaver dam with one paw and rebuild it with the other.
