Bear Mechanic: BBW Paranormal Bear Shifter Romance

by Zoe Chant

  A Mate for the Bear Mechanic

  By Zoe Chant

  © 2016 Zoe Chant

  All Rights Reserved

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One: Elise

  Chapter Two: Noah

  Chapter Three: Elise

  Chapter Four: Noah

  Chapter Five: Elise

  Chapter Six: Noah

  Chapter Seven: Elise

  Epilogue: Elise

  A Note from Zoe Chant

  Sneak Preview: Loved by the Lion

  Chapter One

  Elise

  Elise Robbins stared at the questionnaire on her computer screen and considered her options. The question said, You are a fairly private person, and asked her to rate her agreement.

  The honest answer was Strongly Agree, but she knew she wasn't supposed to say that, at least not according to everything she'd read about passing these job questionnaires.

  In Employment Personality Test Land, she thought, personal privacy is a sign that you will be a terrible employee.

  Elise was hard-pressed to think of anything more silly. She'd been a model administrative assistant at her last job, answering phones, fielding questions, and organizing information with aplomb despite the apparently fatal flaw of keeping to herself.

  With a grimace, she selected Strongly Disagree and moved on to the next question.

  She was pretty sure the tests were bogus. She couldn't think of anything less likely to tell you something meaningful about a person's life and work ethic than a multiple-choice test taken on the other side of a screen. Especially since they were so easily gamed. She was a case in point.

  There was something subtly demeaning about them, too. Taking all of these quizzes was like going back to high school.

  If only her last employer, Baskin Electronics, hadn't up and moved its headquarters out of state.

  Wary of the exact situation she was in now, Elise had seriously considered going with the company. But her brother was here in Sweetwater, and her grandfather's old house, and her entire family history. She couldn't just pack up and leave for Arizona.

  That sentimental decision had cost her two months of unemployment and most of her savings. Yet, looking out the window at the beautiful bluebonnet meadow outside her tiny rented duplex, she couldn't quite regret it. They had been her grandpa's favorite flower, and he had picked her a bouquet every spring until he passed away two years ago.

  She looked at the next statement. You change from feeling happy to feeling sad without any reason. Ugh.

  She cast a longing glance toward the coffeemaker, which would stand empty until she could find a few spare bucks for such a luxury, even though she could really use the mood boost from the caffeine. These test questions were a serious downer.

  Elise was jolted from her daydream of a hazelnut latte by a harsh rap at the door.

  Who could be here? Elise wondered as she rose from the table. Cecil wouldn't knock, and neither would the postman unless he had a package, and she hadn't ordered anything recently. She couldn't have.

  Before she could even reach the door, the knock came again, heavy and insistent, and somehow vaguely sinister. Elise felt a charge run up her spine. That knock sounded serious.

  She opened the door to two huge, burly guys she didn't recognize. They were both tall and broad, with thick muscles covered in tattoos and leather vests advertising their membership in a local biker gang. Wild Dogs, their patches read. Each was embellished with an embroidered snarling dog.

  At the sight of them, intimidating and unknown, she took an automatic step backward.

  That was a mistake.

  They took that as their cue to shoulder their way past her like they owned the place.

  “Hey!” she said—squeaked, really, in an embarrassingly high voice—but neither of them paid any attention to her.

  The first guy, who had a greasy ponytail, waltzed into the kitchen and began rummaging through her cabinets. He threw open the doors and began taking out and moving around mugs, boxes, dishes, but with an air of disinterest, like he wasn't looking for anything specific.

  “Wha—what are you doing?” she finally blurted, horrified by her own paralysis. You can't just let them walk all over you. “Are you looking for something? You're not going to find much!”

  The cabinet-exploring biker ignored her. In her head she named him Ponytail. The other, who was bald and had a small gold loop in his ear, turned to face her from his perusal of her living room. His thumbs were tucked into his belt loops, giving him a deceptively casual air.

  He turned a smile on her that looked like it was aiming for “friendly”, but which didn't reach his eyes.

  She spied her cell phone lying on the table—in the living room, behind Gold Earring. Her heart sank. She'd never be able to get to it in time to call the police.

  “Elise, aren't you?” he asked, although he looked like he already knew the answer. “Robbins?”

  She crossed her arms protectively around herself. “Who's asking?” The words came out more shrill than brave.

  Unfortunately, Gold Earring looked more amused by her bravado than intimidated. “You're plucky, I'll give you that.”

  Behind her, she heard more of the second thug's rummaging. The thought of her few possessions being potentially damaged or stolen jangled her already-raw nerves to breaking point.

  “Who are you?” she demanded. “What do you want?”

  Gold Earring ignored her questions. “You're Cecil's big sister.”

  Another, deeper chill ran down her spine. “What's it to you?”

  He was no longer smiling, and Ponytail had stopped going through her things to poke through the rest of her apartment.

  “He owes us some money. Unfortunately, he's disappeared on us.” Gold Earring shook his head and sighed tragically. “Kids these days, so undependable. Am I right?”

  “What are you talking about? Cecil would never do something like that—” Elise halted, biting her lip.

  It occurred to her mid-sentence that Cecil might, in fact, do that very thing. He was only twenty, impetuous and hot-headed. And he had helped her with her rent last month…

  Gold Earring smirked. It looked a lot more natural on his face than the faux-friendly “smile” he'd put on just a few moments before.

  “Told us he was helping out his family. As far as we can tell, you’re the only family he’s got. Unless there’s somebody else?” He raised his eyebrows innocently.

  Ponytail returned from checking out her bedroom and bathroom. “He’s not here, Lyle. No money, either,” he reported dutifully, eyeing her couch like it might contain a secret compartment. Leaning against a doorjamb with his arm crossed, he made an imposing figure.

  “Get out before I call the cops,” she threatened, her voice wavering.

  They laughed a strange, high-pitched laugh. Obviously, they’d called her bluff.

  Lyle-with-the-gold-earring swiped her phone from the coffee table. “With this?” He tossed it in the air a few times, then threw it to his partner, who pretended to examine it before dropping it into the couch cushions with a grin.

  “Go right on ahead,” said Lyle. “But before you do, tell us where your little brother is.”

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  Ponytail crossed his arms and leaned toward her. She leaned away instinctively—the exact reaction he was looking for, judging by his knowing smirk.

  “Are you sure?” Lyle questioned her, his tone mild but the intent forceful. “Very, very sure?”

  Thunder cracked ominously in the distance. Something insane compelled Elise to add, “He doesn't live h
ere. I'm not his babysitter! But even if I did know, I wouldn’t tell you.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Pride goes before a fall, or so they say,” he said with a wink and a grin that made Elise’s stomach churn. “If we don’t find him soon… Well, let's just say you might be sorry we don't. I recommend you rustle up your brother’s location for the next time we come back, and maybe some cash, too,” said Lyle with a benevolent air, like he was just looking out for her own good. It made her blood boil. “Interest's running up. Tell you what, both is good.”

  Elise lost it.

  “Get out!” she shouted, her fists clenching at her sides. “Get out!”

  Chuckling, they sauntered to the still-open front door, taking their time as they did so. It was a show meant to reinforce that they were the ones in charge, not her. Ponytail slammed the door as he left after his partner, making Elise nearly jump out of her skin.

  After they were gone, she rushed to lock the door behind them.

  Was it locked when I went to bed last night? Elise asked herself, but didn't have an answer. Either way, she wouldn't be forgetting again anytime soon. Not that she put it past those creeps to pick a lock.

  Retrieving her phone from between the cushions, she tried to call Cecil, but he didn't pick up. Was he hiding from these guys? She couldn't blame him if he was, given that she was tempted to run away from her own home! But then again, he'd left her to deal with them in the wake of his absence.

  If what they were saying was true. That was a big if. The bikers weren't exactly trustworthy sources of information. But Cecil wasn't here to tell her the whole story. She felt mixed exasperation and worry.

  Elise tried to think back to the last time she had seen her little brother. She had been telling the truth when she said he didn't live with her. He preferred couch-surfing to living with big sis.

  He could be flighty, following his whims more than being dependable. He'd loaned her money on the third; he'd only said he had some savings from odd jobs. She'd thought nothing more of it at the time, too grateful for the sweet gesture that had kept her from being evicted. A few days ago, they'd had dinner together and started their annual X-Files re-watch. She hadn't heard from him since, but that wasn't unusual.

  The biker thugs would be back, she was sure of it. Grabbing a duffel from her closet, Elise began to pack a quick overnight bag, throwing in clothes and belongings haphazardly.

  There was only one person she could think to call… And that person was unreachable. Her best friend from college, Clara Packard, would have known exactly what to do. Bold, confident, red-haired Clara would have known exactly how to deal with those assholes. Unfortunately, Clara was tucked away in rural Peru courtesy of the Peace Corps, and they were only able to talk intermittently.

  If her brother had run away, she knew one place he could go. One place that the Wild Dogs hopefully didn't know about.

  Years of watching CSI made her wary. Even now, after they'd supposedly left, they might be watching her apartment, waiting to see if she would lead them to her brother. She would have to wait until nightfall to leave, and if someone followed her, she could just drive to the sheriff's office instead.

  She glanced at her open laptop. The questionnaire was still there. Many people cannot be trusted.

  Flipping the laptop screen closed, she could only hope it wasn't true.

  * * *

  Rain slashed across the windshield, coming down so hard Elise could hardly see. She squinted at the road ahead, which was outlined only dimly by her high-beams.

  For the third time, Elise dialed her younger brother’s number and waited for the ring tone. One second of silence… two seconds… three… and nothing. The call disconnected with a beep, and she nearly threw it across the car in frustration.

  At least she knew no one was following her. If they tried, they had gotten lost along the way. Elise hadn't seen the flicker of a headlight behind her for miles. It wasn't surprising, since she could hardly see a foot in front of the windshield.

  Low visibility, hah, she thought. Now that's a euphemism.

  Bikers would have a pretty hard time with all the rain, too, she guessed.

  It was a small comfort. She hadn't thought to grab a jacket, so she was cold and trying to escape an evil biker gang and find her lost little brother.

  At first, frazzled by the visit from Ponytail and Lyle, she had no idea where Cecil might have gone. Then it occurred to her. The place where he might have felt safe, out from under the gaze of his newly acquired biker friends, was exactly where she would go, too.

  Grandpa Newman's house.

  It was a little cabin out in the middle of nowhere, twenty miles out of town. Elise had inherited it after he passed away. In its current shape it was uninhabitable—a broken A/C during the Texas summers spelled misery and probably heatstroke, not to mention the many gutted walls and leaky pipes—but repairs would be costly and she didn't have the resources. Instead, the house had sat there, waiting to be filled.

  The idea of fixing it up and moving in had occupied a tiny space in the back of Elise's mind for years, but she didn't have the cash. That didn't stop her from daydreaming, though. Honeysuckle, once a tidy and neat hedge, had grown wild all around the little picket fence, and she wanted to learn how to prune them and help them take shape again.

  The cabin also housed an extra bedroom with enormous windows, which Elise had thought of transforming into a little art workshop for herself. She longed for somewhere quiet and relaxed, full of her favorite painting and drawing tools.

  It might not be generally livable, but Grandpa's cabin housed a lot of fond childhood memories for Elise and Cecil. If she needed to escape, that was where she'd go first. Even though technically it belonged to her, not him—Cecil's inheritance was a small fund intended for college—maybe Cecil had had the same thought.

  There was a red light ahead. Elise grimaced. She was pretty sure no one was following her, but she didn't want to stop for anything.

  As she bore down on the brake, the dashboard lights flickered ominously.

  Then, without warning, the engine sputtered… and died.

  Her car slid to a stop almost immediately, and all the lights went out. With the sun hidden behind rainclouds, the car became ominously dark. Panic threatened her sense of calm. She took her keys out, and then tried to restart the car. Nothing, not even a click.

  This cannot be happening, Elise thought frantically, and popped the hood.

  In her haste, she hadn't brought an umbrella, either. She would just have to face the pouring rain defenseless. She sighed and dug her phone out of the passenger floorboard. It was the closest thing to a flashlight she had.

  Propping the hood up, she peered into the car's inner workings and tried to ignore the rain. It was really coming down. Her shirt was already soaked through, leaving her shivering.

  The problem was, she didn't know a single thing about cars or car problems beyond the obvious. There was gas in the tank, she wasn't overdue for an oil change, and she could change a tire. Other than that, if it wasn't smoking, she had no idea what was wrong. It was like she'd been sent to a hospital to perform surgery. The inner workings of the car remained mysterious.

  By now the rain had soaked through all her clothes. She wiped water out of her eyes impatiently and stared at the engine. Lightning flashed, illuminating the engine briefly.

  Someone's headlights cut through the dim, and Elise jumped in surprise.

  Immediately, panic rose and threatened to swallow her frustration. There were two headlights, not one. But bikers could drive cars as well as anyone else. Had the Wild Dogs found her?

  Thunder cracked like the sound of a whip. Without warning, a dark, male figure appeared next to her from out of the flood.

  “Can I help you?” the guy asked, apparently oblivious to her fear.

  “Who are you?” she demanded, crossing her arms.

  He looked baffled by her response. “I'm Noah. I'm a mechanic. Is th
ere something wrong with your car? That's why you're parked out here in the rain, isn't it?”

  Elise took a closer look. To his credit, he wasn't wearing a leather vest, or any leather at all. And Wild Dogs members didn't exactly seem like they wanted to hide their affiliation.

  And he's hot, her hindbrain supplied, apparently unaffected by the possibility of being in deadly danger.

  He was tall, well over six feet if she had to guess. He had almost a foot on her, and that was just the way she liked it.

  Even though his broad frame towered over her, she didn't feel intimidated. The smile on his face was friendly and warm, if a bit confused by her response. Ah. That was her fault.

  “I'm sorry, what was that?” she said dazedly.

  Apparently, when star-struck by a total stranger's overwhelming attractiveness, she lost all short-term memory and ability to make a conversation. Great job, Elise.

  “Your car,” he repeated, gesturing to the open hood. A rivulet of water slipped down the side of his neck. Abruptly she realized it had stopped raining. No, it had just stopped raining on her.

  Noah-the-mechanic was holding his umbrella over her head.

  “Yes,” she said, latching on to the conversation so that she wouldn't get caught ogling. “The car. The car has a problem. But I don't know what it is.”

  “You're in luck. That's kind of my specialty. The diagnosis is on the house.” He grinned, and Elise's stomach flipped over once, slowly.

  “Really?” Hot and nice?

  “Really. Here, you've got umbrella duty.” Noah handed her the umbrella and leaned over her car.

  She scooted closer to him. Just to make sure he didn't get rained on, of course. Not that she would mind if he did. It was too bad he was wearing that jacket. Underneath, he had on a white T-shirt that would look very nice transparently stretched over his well-muscled frame.

  The hem of his jacket pulled up over his back, exposing a sliver of tanned skin and two dimples just over the waist of his blue jeans. Elise's free hand reached out unthinkingly.

  He stood up, and she jumped back with the force of her embarrassment. She snatched the offending hand behind her back.