Stranger Creatures 2: Bear's Edge

by Christina Lynn Lambert

  Aside from the animal shifters and the weather shifters, there were the psy, who were mostly regular humans with freaky abilities like being able to move shit with their minds or read other people’s emotions or weirder stuff that he hadn’t wanted to know about. Mindbenders, some people called them, though the man who had initiated Grant had warned him that the term was the equivalent of a racial slur. However undecided he felt about the psy, he refused to call them by a name that would sting the way some of the names people had called him had stung. No fucking way.

  By some stroke of luck, Shayla had survived something horrendous. Why the fuck couldn’t this damn reporter just let her be? Grant refused to let the poser journalist put Shayla on the radar of every asshole looking to catch a legend. He lost his head for a quick minute, taking the cameraman’s video camera and throwing it against the wall.

  “Goddammit! That was worth a small fortune!” the cameraman yelled. Grant smiled at the man’s minitragedy. “You think throwing my camera’s gonna get rid of the interview? Hell no. The data’s automatically uploaded to an online storage account.” That sounded pretty feasible, but throwing the camera had felt so good.

  “Get the fuck out of here, or you’ll be the next thing to hit that wall, you little prick.”

  Instead of throwing punches and morphing into a bear like he wanted to do, Grant roughly escorted Baron and her crew the hell out of Brass Cat. He warned Sue the receptionist to call the cops if any of those worthless shits dared to show up again.

  Grant spent the walk back to Shayla’s office repeatedly counting to ten and working on his apology. He fully expected a lecture from her about how she could handle her personal life without his assistance, but he couldn’t change what he’d done. He hadn’t wanted that reporter up in Shayla’s face for one more second.

  Instead of the indignant lecture he probably deserved from her, Shayla laid her hand against his cheek. “You’re sweet, Grant. Thanks for getting rid of Baron and her crew.”

  “You’re not mad?”

  “Not at you. I was prepared to take some heat from her, but—” She looked down. “Anyway, thanks for looking out for me. Thanks for coming in so I didn’t have to take any more crap. I had kind of hit my crap-taking limit.”

  He shrugged. “Anytime. I’m here if you need me. I’ve always got your back.” He gave her a shy smile.

  “Same,” she told him. And her smile wasn’t the innocent kind of sweet of someone who didn’t understand what they were offering, nor was it the fake, careless kind of sweet that people used when what they really meant was “I’ll help you, but only if it’s a small task that doesn’t take up much time.”

  Though she probably meant that she’d have his back in a friendship kind of way, her sincerity hit him in all the places it shouldn’t. He nodded and left her office before he started composing love poems and sappy songs in his head. Romantic feelings for his boss was not what he needed in his life at the moment. Or ever.

  * * * *

  The next day he avoided Shayla. The day after that, he spoke with her briefly about an account and then left her office without so much as a “bye, see ya later.” No doubt he’d been rude to her, but he needed some distance. What the fuck else can I do until I get over her?

  The bear sighed. Maybe if you didn’t act like a dick and get all nonverbal and shit, you might be able to convince her she needs to have you.

  “Hey, Grant,” called a familiar voice.

  He smiled. “Hey, Sydney. What’s up? What are you doing here?”

  Sydney had been at Brass Cat less and less lately because she’d made her artwork her top career priority. She did only a few graphic design jobs for Brass Cat here and there. Grant kind of missed her.

  “Hey!” She shifted the folders in her arms and gave him a quick hug. “Shayla had a couple of clients that wanted something in the more artistic range, so she convinced me to pick up a couple extra jobs. So…” She looked at him with her big hazel eyes. “I need a favor.”

  Grant raised an eyebrow. The favor could be something easy or something hard. He’d probably say yes anyway, but she didn’t need to know he was so easy to persuade.

  “You’re still coming to see my art exhibition tonight at the Leo Yuki Gallery, right?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “Well, I just talked to Shay, and her car is in the shop. She’s got a ride home from work tonight, and Derrick and I were going to give her a ride to the gallery later on tonight, but I need to get there a lot earlier than I’d thought to finish setting up. I was supposed to do that this morning, but I think I have more going on right now than I can handle, with everything.” She patted her rounded belly, which seemed to be getting bigger every week. “Anyway…” She blew a lock of wavy red hair off her forehead. “Can you take her?”

  “Yeah, sure. No problem.”

  “Great, thanks. See you tonight.” Sydney gave him another quick hug, wearing a sly grin when she turned back with a little wave good-bye. Sydney needed to give up hope he’d get together with Shayla. He’d give Shayla a ride to the art gallery, though, and he’d pretend being next to her didn’t make him want to strip her naked every night and wake up beside her every morning.

  * * * *

  Shayla opened her front door, looking beautiful and confused.

  “Hey, Grant. I thought Sydney and Derrick were picking me up.” She didn’t seem upset about seeing him at her door, so that was a positive.

  “Sydney said something about getting to the gallery early to help set up and to check on a few things for one of her pieces in the show.”

  Sydney had neglected to mention to Grant that his showing up at Shayla’s door would be a surprise to Shayla. He mentally cursed Sydney for the surprise-element twist in her devious plan. He would get her back for that later.

  “Well, anyway, thanks for coming to get me. My car died this morning. It needs a starter, among other things.”

  “I heard about your car. Sorry they didn’t fix it in time for the weekend. So, ah, are you ready, or do you need a few minutes?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  “You look nice tonight, Shay.” Nice was an understatement. But he couldn’t say what he really thought.

  She smiled. “Thanks. You’re looking pretty fine yourself.”

  The appraisal he heard in her voice was totally unexpected. Probably totally accidental too, and hell, it made him nervous. He felt like a shy, dorky teenager for a moment, not sure what to do.

  One foot in front of the other, he reminded himself. Grant opened the passenger door of his truck and held her hand to help her up the step and into the passenger seat.

  She laughed. “Thanks. Your truck is huge.”

  “And you are anything but,” he teased.

  “My dad used to tell me to eat more vegetables so I could grow up nice and tall, but that didn’t work out.”

  “You’re perfect just the way you are.” Oh jeez, did that dopey line just come out of my mouth?

  “I agree,” she said with a grin.

  Grant stepped into the truck and turned on the heater for Shayla. He plugged the address of the art gallery into the GPS and found something on the radio with a softer rhythm than the loud, wailing-guitar, drum-pounding music he usually listened to. Virginia nights were still cool in the spring, but the heater must have kicked in enough for Shayla, because she took off her wrap and opened up her purse to search for something. Women’s purses might look small, but Grant had learned from Maya that they could be filled with a million useful things. Or junk and trash, depending on the woman.

  He stole a glance at Shayla’s profile. They weren’t headed to a strictly suit-and-tie event, so her dress was more casual than fancy, a sleeveless cottony blue material that didn’t cling but hit her curves just right. Her toned arms and bare shoulders looked both strong and soft. Then his gaze wandered. He couldn’t help it. Shayla had piled her honey-colored hair into an intricate bun that left her neck bare. Grant loved her
graceful neck and her delicate ears. The piercings that went all the way up her left ear featured small gold hoops for the evening. Sexy but classy. He always wondered if she was pierced anywhere else. A dark blue stone hung down on a thin gold chain between her breasts. Only a tiny hint of cleavage was visible with the design of her dress, but it revealed enough for Grant’s greedy mind to turn the image into a fantasy where he ripped off her dress and fucked her in his truck on the side of the road somewhere. The bear highly approved of that idea.

  “Oh, I found it! Do you want some?” Shayla suddenly exclaimed.

  Fuck, yeah, I want whatever you’re offering.

  Shayla pulled a square of chocolate out of her purse. “It’s German chocolate, with marzipan inside and salted nuts on top.”

  If it were any other girl, he’d be a smart-ass and say something like “You like nuts?” and then they’d both laugh. Joking like that with Shayla would be a bad idea. There were lines between them he couldn’t cross.

  “Sure. I’ll take a piece.” He popped a square of the chocolate into his mouth, and damn, it was good—sweet with a little bit of bite.

  We need a piece of her, the bear growled. She’ll taste even sweeter.

  Off-limits, bear, and you goddamn know it! Grant wanted to change the off-limits status. He’d never heard her mention a boyfriend or love interest before, but he’d seen some guy pick her up from work a couple of times lately. After talking to the guy for a minute, Grant decided Melvin or Marco or whatever was a cocky shit who needed to be punched in the face a few times. Grant wanted to put a stop to that relationship before it got serious, but what right did he have?

  Then fix it. Tell her what you want, the bear begged him.

  Can’t. He needed to just get rid of whatever feelings he had for Shayla.

  You’re not stupid. Fix it. Find a way.

  Fuck off, bear.

  Coward.

  Grant sighed. The bear could be a stubborn asshole. But he might be right.

  SHAYLA WATCHED GRANT’S hands on the steering wheel and tried not to imagine those big hands all over her, maybe gripping her ass or… Shut up! Stop it, stop it, stop it. She ate a piece of chocolate and forced herself to focus on the sweet, salty taste of perfection for a moment. For the rest of the ride, she and Grant chatted about silly things, funny things, everyday things, and then faced awkward silences. She felt guilty about wanting him and then irritated with herself for feeling guilty because he would ever know her thoughts on the matter anyway.

  After they arrived at the art gallery, Grant followed the arrows on the signs placed out front that sent them to a parking garage across the street. Once he found a spot big enough for his house on wheels, he told her, “hang on,” and then hopped out of the driver’s seat. He opened the passenger door for her and helped her down to the ground. He even held the door for her when they walked inside the old fire station the gallery now inhabited. Grant always seemed to remember to do stuff like that—opening doors for the ladies, waiting until they were seated before taking his own chair.

  “Thanks. You’re such a gentleman.”

  Grant just shrugged off her compliment. Big, tall, cocky, and silent—Grant was all of those things yet so much more than what he seemed. He was sweet, shy, and considerate and also most likely a genius, especially with numbers, but he wasn’t conceited about it, at least not that she could tell, anyway.

  Though the exhibits were still cordoned off, a display of abstract sculptures and strange paintings adorned the entryway of the reception room. Shayla zeroed in on one metal piece about three feet tall in which delicate rounded shapes were surrounded by a twisting labyrinth of sharp, spiky-looking claws. Scary but beautiful. She looked at Grant, who seemed deep in concentration. She gave him a moment before asking if he liked the design.

  “Honestly?”

  Shayla nodded. “I like honesty so much better than bullshit,” she whispered.

  Grant snickered, and his shoulders relaxed. “I have a hard time appreciating the more abstract work. In my head, I take everything apart and put it back together in a slightly different way, and with an actual function. Then it makes more sense to me.” He grinned sheepishly.

  “That’s pretty impressive.”

  He shrugged. Getting Grant to talk, especially about himself, was a challenge. Getting him to accept a compliment was even more of a challenge. I wonder what his parents told him instead.

  “So why isn’t your new boyfriend here tonight with you, instead of me?”

  His hard, accusatory tone surprised her. “Boyfriend?” She hadn’t even been on a date recently. What the hell?

  “The guy with the Porsche who’s been picking you up from work lately.”

  “That’s Marcus. He’s just a friend.”

  “A special kind of friend?” Grant’s usual sarcastic attitude was back in full swing, and for whatever reason, he’d directed that attitude at her. Was he judging her? Hell no, she wasn’t having that.

  “Even if he was, does it matter? No one criticizes men when they have friends with benefits. I’m sure you’ve had a couple.”

  Grant looked properly shamed. “Sorry. You’re right. It’s just…I talked to the dude for a few minutes in the lobby the other night, and he seems like a pretentious ass. Be careful, okay?”

  “Marcus and I go to our workaholics support group meetings together sometimes and then catch a movie or dinner after. He is a friend. No benefits involved. In fact, if Marcus wanted to share benefits with anyone, he would go for you, not me.”

  “Oh. Damn. I’m sorry I sounded like a sexist jerk. I just…” Grant swore under his breath. “Never mind. Not important.” He guided her down the red-tiled hallway through the steadily growing crowd to the bar near the stage where he ordered a Long Island iced tea. Just a little alcohol went a long way on Shayla, so she ordered a simple glass of champagne.

  She took a little sip and let the bubbles slide across her tongue. Not too sweet and not too fizzy—perfect. Maybe she’d order another. She wasn’t driving.

  Sydney caught her attention from near the stage and waved. Shayla waved back. She really wanted to ask Sydney for some type of road map to Grant. She couldn’t quite figure out why he’d seemed so close, then so distant lately. She had her hopes, but… Syd and Derrick stopped by the bar. Shayla gave Sydney a look, then glanced at Grant.

  Sydney grinned and shrugged. She and Syd would most definitely be texting later.

  “Good luck, Syd.” Grant gave a lock of Sydney’s red hair a tug.

  “Thanks.” Sydney gave him a little shove and whispered something in his ear that made him look frustrated. Shayla didn’t quite catch Grant’s response, but it sounded an awful lot like “scheming, evil brat.” Sydney just laughed and patted Grant on the back.

  “Bye, guys. I’m going to check my exhibit one last time before the official opening.” She leaned toward Shayla and whispered, “I’m kind of freaking out. Thanks to you convincing Leo Yuki to let you publicize the new gallery and the art exhibit for free if the gallery in exchange for donating a portion of the ticket sales to Hope and Healing, the publicity brought in some important critics. I heard from another artist that there are at least three art magazine columnists here tonight. And a bunch of entertainment bloggers too.” Sydney’s eyes were bright, and she looked scared and excited. Derrick took her hand in his.

  Shayla wasn’t creative like an artist, nor was she able to construct a sculpture or deconstruct an innovation using a mental calculator, but she did know how to trade deals. Those deals helped her company, but they also helped people she cared about. “I couldn’t have done it without Grant’s help.”

  The two of them had put in some long hours scouring every possible interest group and target market within a hundred-mile radius. Their efforts had paid off. People filled the gallery. “Now go show everybody how awesome your work is. We have some things to talk about later.”

  Shayla gave Grant a sideways glance. Sydney smiled a not-sorry
kind of smile, and she and Derrick walked hand in hand down the hallway toward the exhibits.

  And…things were back to silent and awkward between Shayla and Grant again. Things never used to be that way between them. Sure, Grant didn’t talk a lot, and sometimes having a conversation with him took effort, but things had felt…different lately. They sat at the bar, probably looking as uncomfortable as they both felt.

  Could Grant have feelings for her—something more than just a passing attraction? Was that why he didn’t like Marcus? Or was he just a caring friend who didn’t want to see her get hurt? Even if Grant truly had a thing for her, someday, probably sooner rather than later, a beautiful woman, one he could actually date, one who wasn’t his boss, would catch his eye, and Shayla would fall back into his “friends” category.

  The announcer arrived onstage, looking steampunk smooth and sexy. With a world full of more than seven billion people, certainly there would be somebody she could crush on instead of the sweet, hot-as-sin, complicated man sitting next to her. She decided to focus on the sexy announcer and use him in her evening fantasies.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the opening of the Leo Yuki Gallery’s exposition of After the Apocalypse. This month we will have several exhibits displayed by professional artists. In addition, there will be a display by the Great Oaks Community Center Arts Department and robotics demonstrations from the Charlottesville Youth Robotics Team. To make this event even more spectacular, a portion of all admissions tonight and for the duration of this month’s After the Apocalypse exposition will go to Hope and Healing, a charity that helps to fund plastic surgery, prosthetic equipment, and other services for disaster survivors around the world.”

  A big cheer rose from the crowd.

  As the announcer continued with his speech, a huge group of people filed in. A bus tour, maybe? Her little space at the bar got smaller. The reception room got smaller.

  Not now. Please not now. The press of people against her safe bubble of space took Shayla back to a time when she couldn’t move, when she’d been trapped under the unyielding weight of bodies and surrounded by smoke and fire. Life could change in an instant. She’d watched her boyfriend in college get stabbed in a robbery. He’d lived, but he was never the same. She didn’t want to lose anyone else. She didn’t want to be hurt again—she might not survive another disaster. No magic formula existed to tell her where to avoid, who to avoid, just that she couldn’t predict the future and nowhere was safe. The roaring in her ears became deafening. She sucked in a breath. I’m not trapped. I’m not helpless. Shayla felt a big, warm hand on her shoulder.