The owner, a sixty-ish human male, had offered to open the kitchen and make us some burgers. I was perfectly capable of going out and finding my own food, but taking him up on his offer was a whole lot easier ... and less suspicious. Besides, the old guy seemed to be looking for some company.
I took a quick shower, relishing the surprisingly powerful water pressure and hot water on my tired muscles. Then I changed into a clean shirt and met him for dinner.
The burgers were outstanding, and the company, pleasant. The old guy had been running the place for nearly four decades, he said. Right after he had gotten married, he and his new bride had bought the property, which had been a rundown hippie shack at the time, and turned it into a respectable place. I liked the way his eyes lit up and softened around the edges when he talked about her.
“She’s down in Florida now. Says she can’t stand to be so far from her grandbabies.” He chuckled. “I’ll be closing this place and heading down there for Christmas soon myself.” He laughed softly again. “I’ve been married to that woman for forty years, and I love her more than I did when she first took my name. You ever been in love, son?”
I wiped my mouth and finished chewing while I considered his question. It wasn’t such an easy answer. I had met Chloe when I was eight years old, and she had imprinted on me. That was how I knew she was my mate. But I’d been so young then, and I didn’t fully understand the significance of that. I knew only that I had liked being around her and our connection would continue to grow, and that someday, we would be together. It had never been a question of falling in love. It just was. Chloe was the one for me, and no other female had or would ever interest me in that way.
Now that I was older, I understood more about what being mated meant, and that once Chloe and I accepted each other and bonded, we would be bound by a love so pure and deep it defied logic.
I couldn’t very well explain that to the motel owner, though, so I told him I was still looking for the right one, which was technically true. I was looking for Chloe.
It was as I was leaving to go back to my room that I passed by the tiny gift shop and saw the small stuffed bear in the window. I smiled, remembering how much Chloe liked bears. She’d had one in her backpack the day I had found her in the woods. Even then, it had been old and ratty and missing an eye, but when she had gone to bed that night, she had clutched it like a lifeline.
I asked the owner if I could buy it, so he unlocked the glass doors and we went inside. While I waited for him to ring it up, I spotted a painting in the back. It bore remarkable similarities to the one Kayden had snapped a picture of. A landscape scene with lots of evergreens, though this one was centered around a lake and had a log cabin. A large brown bear, the same one that had appeared in Kayden’s photo, was peeking around the side of the cabin.
A closer look confirmed my suspicions. The name Chloe was scrawled along the bottom right corner.
I didn’t believe in coincidences. The same power that had determined Chloe and I were mates were bringing us together again, I just knew it.
“Nice piece, isn’t it?” the man asked when he saw me eyeing the painting.
“Yeah. Do you know the artist?”
“Sort of. Nice gal, came by a couple months ago asking if I’d be willing to put some of her stuff up for sale here in the gift shop. People seem to like them, at least in season. Not too many people come by this time of year, though, not since they put in the interstate bypass. The snow birds prefer the big lodges and ski resorts up north.”
“So, she’s local?”
“Last I heard, she was renting a place down in Two Forks. Not sure if she’s still there. She seemed like a wandering spirit, and I haven’t seen her for a while.”
“Consider it sold. Would you keep it here until I can get it back to my place?”
“Sure.”
I paid for the bear and the painting, then wished the man a good night before going back to my room.
Anticipation bubbled through my veins. I was getting close; I could feel it. After a brief rest, I would head to Two Forks and find my mate.
Chapter 5
Chloe
“What did she do now?” my father asked, opening the door to find the sheriff standing with me. Despite the fact that it was still early afternoon, his words were already slurred.
I fought the urge to hide behind the sheriff’s big legs.
Silently, I cursed Carly Johnson, the fourth grader who had come into the bathroom while I was throwing up. I had begged her not to tell, but the little tattletale ran to the school nurse and had told anyway.
The nurse had taken my temperature and said I needed to go home. I had told her my father was working and asked if I could just stay in her office until the end of the day. I had promised I would be really quiet and wouldn’t moan or throw up anymore, but she had just looked at me funny and said I was too sick to be in school around other kids and should be home in bed.
She hadn’t been able to get in touch with my father. She had even used the emergency number on my information card, only to discover that the line was no longer in service. Then she had called his work number, unaware that he had been fired. She had called the principal, who in turn called the sheriff.
Dread and fear combined with the aches and nausea I was already feeling, and I knew that whatever happened next, it wouldn’t be good.
“Chloe didn’t do anything,” Sheriff Perkins said. “Your daughter is sick, Mr. Lewis. The school has been trying to contact you.”
“Lost my phone fishing,” my father easily lied. I had seen him toss it into the lake after the social worker called, wanting to know where we were and how I was. “Been meaning to get a new one.”
I kept my eyes on the ground, but I could feel my father’s glare. He didn’t like when people came to the trailer. Especially authority figures.
“You sick?” my father asked, directing his words toward me.
I shuffled my feet, knowing that whatever I said, it would be the wrong thing to say, so I just nodded.
An awkward silence followed before the sheriff cleared his throat and said, “The nurse said she’s running a pretty high fever. You might be wanting to see Doc Evans in town. He’s good with kids.”
My father grunted noncommittally. I wouldn’t be seeing any doctor. They asked too many questions.
“Thanks for bringing her home, Sheriff. Sorry she was a bother.”
“No bother, Mr. Lewis.” I felt the sheriff’s large hand on my shoulder. “Go on inside, Chloe. I need to talk to your daddy for a moment.”
No! I wanted to cry out, but that would only make things worse. So, I went into the trailer, knowing that as bad as I felt, I was going to feel a whole lot worse very soon ...
I awoke with a start just as my father’s fist was about to make contact. Because everyone knew I had been sick and had expected me to be out of school for a while, my father didn’t have to be as careful about not marking me that day. By the time I went back to school a week later, no one was the wiser. Sam had come by the trailer a few times when my dad hadn’t been around, but I couldn’t have answered even if I’d wanted to.
Feeling much like I had that day so long ago, I shivered, huddling into an even tighter ball beneath the covers. My whole body was shaking. I couldn’t get warm. It didn’t help that my hair was wet and my skin slick with sweat.
Eventually, nature’s call forced me out of bed.
The moment I stood, the room swam and my stomach lurched sickeningly. Despite my limited social interactions, I had somehow managed to pick up the flu.
My muscles protested with every step. How much of that was due to all the snow shoveling I had done and how much was due to illness, I didn’t know, but it didn’t really matter. I was as dizzy and weak as a pup either way.
As I took care of business, I briefly debated whether I should heat up some soup or not. What was that saying? Was it feed a cold and starve a fever, or the other way around? I didn’t know. At
that moment, I didn’t even care. Just the effort involved in my short trip to the bathroom had wiped me out.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered to the bear in my painting. I had promised him I would finish his wintry forest cave home today, but I didn’t feel up to it. He would have to be content with the partial scene until I could see straight. “Maybe tomorrow, okay?”
He stared back at me with those big, kind eyes, and I knew he understood.
I crawled back into bed, hoping that the fever-induced dreams would take me somewhere more pleasant than the last ones had.
Chapter 6
Sam
After a hearty breakfast, I said goodbye to my new friend and headed south toward Two Forks. Inside, my bear was clawing at me, anxious to be freed, but I had to wait until I was well away from human eyes before I allowed that. In the aftermath of the storm, there weren’t many people out and about, but it only took one with a cell phone to make trouble. The fewer humans who knew about shifters, the better.
I let my bear loose a couple miles from the motel. The closer I got to civilization, the more our anticipation grew. He was so intent on getting to Two Forks that we almost stumbled right out onto the road where a two-man crew was using a cherry picker to work on some downed power lines. No doubt they had seen bears before, but probably not many carrying around a decent-sized rucksack from L.L. Bean.
I adjusted my path and detoured around them, continuing south. When I reached the outskirts of the small town at the base of the mountain, I wrangled my animal back and changed into my human form once again. He was too excited to retreat completely, though. Thankfully, the sun was bright enough to justify the wraparound shades that would hide the unusual shade of gold my eyes turned when my bear was so close to the surface.
Two Forks was tiny, even for a small mountain town. It was easy to see where it got its name. One main road ran through the center of town, branching off at either end. Ancient-looking, gloomy buildings rose up on either side, none of them above two stories. Two Forks, like several other towns in the area, had probably begun as a mining town back in the day and had somehow managed to endure.
The diner Kayden had visited was easy enough to find. It was the only one like it and sat off on the right, standing out with its big windows and retro chrome accents.
Delicious smells wafted through the air, enticing my bear and rousing our insatiable appetite once again.
“Afternoon.” An older man looked up from the book he was reading as I entered, the tinkling of bells above the doorway heralding my arrival. He was on the smaller side, wiry, with graying, reddish hair.
“Afternoon.” I took a seat at the counter and gladly accepted the coffee he poured for me. As much as I wanted to ask about Chloe right away, I knew starting off with a bunch of questions was going to have the guy clamming up pretty fast. Small town folk were friendly enough, but protective of their own. That was something I understood, because me and mine were the same way.
“The special’s a chili burger. Comes with fries and slaw.”
“Sounds good.”
I sensed his curiosity, but he was playing a game, just like I was, biding his time until he could make a sale. In the meantime, I occupied myself by taking stock of my surroundings.
It was a clean, nice place. A couple guys sat in one of the booths, eyeing me. I pegged them for locals and nodded once in polite greeting, then moved on until I found what I was looking for.
There it was, between the windows. The painting of my bear, his golden eyes staring back at me. It looked even better than it had in Kayden’s picture.
“Hell of a storm we had,” the older man commented, sliding a large, white plate in front of me and drawing my attention back to him. The aroma of seasoned ground beef hit my nose. If it tasted half as good as it smelled, I was going to enjoy it.
“Yeah, it was.”
“I guess the roads are open now.”
“Some,” I confirmed vaguely. “Passed some power company crews on the way in.” It was inane banter, a necessary part of the progression.
I bit into the burger, which was even better than it smelled, and told him so. He seemed pleased.
“That’s a nice picture you got there,” I told him.
“Yeah.” He beamed with pride.
“Local artist?”
“Yeah, that’s our Chloe.”
Bingo. “Small world. I had a friend named Chloe once, back when we were kids. She liked drawing bears, too.”
“That so?”
Outwardly, his expression remained friendly, but I sensed a slight change in the air around us. He not only knew the artist, but he was protective of her. My bear rumbled, feeling kind of protective, too. I covered it up by clearing my throat and sipping my coffee.
He narrowed his eyes. I could have sworn I saw a flash of gold, but it was gone quickly. I drew in a discreet breath, and that was when I detected it—a subtle hint of fox.
If he was a fox shifter, then no doubt he had already figured out what I was. Foxes were known for being clever and having an excellent sense of smell. As a shifter, he would also have an inkling of what would have brought a bear down out of the mountains to inquire about a specific female.
I nodded and chewed, then wiped my mouth. “Tiny thing, more hair than girl. Big brown eyes. Quiet.”
“Sounds about right.”
“She moved away when we were still young,” I said, answering his unspoken question. “Not a day goes by when I don’t think about her, wonder what happened to her. I’d give anything to see her again.”
Greenish-yellow eyes stared back at me. “Hm. Well, son, you might just get your wish. Our Chloe usually stops in at some point. If you’ve got the time to stick around, that is.”
“I do.”
“Then I guess I’ll be getting you a slice of pie to chase that burger.”
Over pie and coffee, we talked about a lot of things. I knew it was a kind of test, an interrogation of sorts, but I didn’t mind. Chloe inspired those kinds of feelings in most people, her piece of shit father excluded. I was glad she had someone looking out for her.
I told the man—O’Malley—about the lodge and, as it turned out, he had heard of it.
I must have passed muster, because eventually, he started talking a little bit about Chloe. The more he shared, the more I was convinced it was my girl.
The dinner rush, which consisted of a dozen or so local townsfolk, came and went. By the time he cleared away the last plate, his eyes were filled with concern and his brow was furrowed. I noticed he kept glancing out the window, looking at a house across the street. I started looking, too. As darkness fell, a light came on, on the first floor, but the second floor remained dark.
I had already figured out that must be where Chloe lived. I had also figured out that something wasn’t right. O’Malley had been wiping the same spot on the counter for nearly five minutes.
“She’s usually here by now,” he muttered, as much to himself as to me. “It’s not like Chloe not to stop in and say hello, though sometimes she does lose track of time when she’s painting.”
Unless she was working with night-vision goggles, that wasn’t likely, and he knew it.
My bear was growing anxious again, wanting to go over and see for ourselves. “Maybe you should give her a call,” I suggested.
He shook his head. “Chloe doesn’t have a phone. But her landlady does.”
O’Malley reached behind him and grabbed the receiver from the old phone mounted on the wall then punched in a few numbers. It took several rings, but I finally heard an old, screechy voice answer on the other end. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“Gladys, it’s Tom. Have you seen Chloe today? I got an old friend of hers here ... No? All right. I’m going to lock up and stop by ... Yes, I know it’s late ... All right, Gladys. See you in a few.”
He looked at me, no longer hiding the worry. “Gladys hasn’t seen or heard from Chloe since the storm.”
/> I stood up. “I’m coming with you.”
He narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth as if he planned on arguing, but then nodded. “If I find out you’re lying to me about being her friend, boy, you’re going to feel the steel toe of my boot in your ass. You understand?”
I nodded, though we both knew a fox was no match for a bear.
He packed up a Styrofoam container of something before we walked across the street and knocked. An older woman opened the door almost immediately, covered from head to toe in shawls and blankets. I understood why when we stepped inside. The interior was almost as cold as the exterior.
“That woman’s purse is tighter than a dolphin’s asshole,” O’Malley muttered to me as we ascended the staircase. When we reached the second floor, he knocked. “Chloe, girl, it’s Tom O’Malley. You in there? I got some more stew for you.”
He knocked twice more before my ears picked up a thump and a shuffle.
“Thanks, Mr. O’Malley,” a weak voice said from the other side of the closed door. “You didn’t have to do that. Just leave it there and I’ll get it later.”
“What’s going on, Chloe? You okay?”
A series of racking coughs sounded before she answered, “Just a cold. Don’t worry.”
“Open the door, Chloe.”
“I don’t want to get you sick.”
“Open the door, Chloe. Ain’t leaving until you do.”
My heart beat wildly at the sound of the deadbolt sliding open. I held my breath as the door slowly opened. After all these years, was I finally going to see my mate again?
Chapter 7
Sam
It was her! Her golden hair was disheveled, and she looked as though she had been ridden hard and put away wet, but there was no question it was her.
Big, tired brown eyes first looked at O’Malley, then rose up to me, at first questioning, then widening in recognition. “Sam?”
I smiled and nodded. “Yeah, Chloe, it’s me.”
She fainted.
I caught her before she hit the ground, scooped up her tiny body and held her against me. “It’s freezing in here, and she’s burning up,” I told O’Malley.
A Very Beary Christmas: A Howls Romance Page 3
