by Layla Nash
The young guy, looking only half-dressed for the weather in a sweater and cargo pants, hung back as the others carried the packs into the Lodge. "Yeah, man. What's up?"
Tate glanced around and shoved his hands in his pockets, uneasy with bringing this up but not wanting the bears to be taken by surprise. Simon had worked hard up there to establish Bear Country Tours, and now that the company was taking off, Tate wasn't going to sit back and watch someone else's drama derail all that effort. "There might be trouble brewing down in town. Thought you might want to talk to some of your friends, just in case there's more trouble coming."
"What kind of trouble?" Finn ran a hand through his hair, frowning as he scanned the trees surrounding the Lodge. The kid worked with the forest rangers and local law enforcement quite a bit as a tracker and general woodsman expert. He moved through the trees like a fucking ghost, and always seemed more at home in the forest and in the most desolate parts of the mountain than anywhere around people.
"A girl showed up in town last night, a friend of Rosie's. She's young and has a kid, but the car she's driving stinks of drugs. Probably meth, maybe something worse."
"Meth?" Finn's dark eyebrows rose. "Out here? Shit. How much do you think? Is she selling it or just transporting?"
"It's gotta be at least a hundred pounds, for me to smell it from down the street in a blizzard. I don't know where it is in the car, but I didn't look real hard." Tate caught his little sister watching him from one of the wide windows in the Lodge, and waved as Zoe motioned for him to come inside. "I don't know what she's planning to do with it, but she looked scared as shit when she walked into the bar, and Rosie was surprised. I don't think she expected the girl to show up. If she's running from someone, though, or stole the meth from someone, they're not going to let her just walk away. Chances are they're on her heels, or might be here already. I don't want that trouble to end up on our doorstep. So just a head's up for your pals in the forest service, in case they see anything weird going on out in the backcountry."
"Thanks, man. I'll let a couple of guys know. Don't want to stir up too much shit over it, but it's good to get the word around." Finn slapped his shoulder and tilted his head at the Lodge. "I'll clean out the truck and gas it up for you, since you look like a fucking ice cube already. Zoe had something to talk to you about, too."
Tate grumbled and gave the guy a dark look over the ice cube comment, but headed for the Lodge anyway. "Thanks. I was built for the desert, not this snow bullshit."
Finn said something under his breath about precious kitties, but Tate ignored him and stomped the snow off his boots on the porch before pulling open the heavy oak door to the Lodge. Zoe was there with a steamy cup of hot chocolate, and helped pull off the hat and gloves and scarf and everything else. She was about six months pregnant and definitely showing, so he had a hard time looking anywhere but her face, which had also gotten fuller and rounder from the pregnancy weight.
Zoe hugged him tightly, worry drawing lines around her eyes, and hustled him over to the fire. "You look frozen solid. Is the heat out on the truck again?"
"Nah," Tate said, smiling at the tourists as they clamored over the giant fir Christmas tree in the corner and the sheepskin rugs everywhere and a few sets of different antlers on the wall. He enjoyed being at the Lodge when it was empty and he could relish the fire and quiet and space all by himself. He'd expected the tours to slow down during the winter months when the snow got bad, but apparently there was also a market for sleigh rides, waterfalls in winter, and other bullshit hipster tours that Simon came up with. Tate put his feet up and wiggled his toes, wondering where the hole in his sock came from. "How are you feeling? How's the little squid doing?"
"The baby," she said, her eyes flashing and a hint of a mama bear showing up. "Is doing great. Moving all the time, keeping me up, making me pee every three seconds. And the heartburn is a bitch."
Tate smiled, putting his hand to her stomach so he could feel the occasional kick and punch from the baby. "I think I heard that somewhere. You still eating weird shit? Pickles and ice cream and prunes?"
"It wasn't that bad," she said, laughing, but winced as she adjusted how she sat and propped her legs up on top of his. "I think Simon probably exaggerated."
"You made him drive to town for fried chicken and white asparagus, from what I remember," Tate said mildly, not wanting to reignite anything. "The grocery store doesn't even carry white asparagus, and Rosie made the fried chicken as fast as she could. Still. Gotta make sure the little squid is fed, right?"
"You're terrible," she said, sighing.
Zoe rested her head against his shoulder, relaxed, and Tate tried not to revel in how content he was. He hadn't even known he had a half-sister until Zoe was practically through high school, and he'd tried to look out for her as he traveled with the Legion. He paid for her college tuition and her rent and everything else she needed, hoping that would keep her out of trouble, but she ended up working for a corporation that specialized in pure evil. Her less-than-legal hacking skills protected her from the worst of what the company did, but when she couldn't ignore it anymore, Zoe emptied the owner's bank accounts and called Tate in a panic. He hid her with Simon at the Lodge, thinking it would be safe enough for Tate to clean house out in LA while keeping Zoe alive, but didn't expect that Zoe would fall in love with Simon and that her evil boss would follow her into the woods. Or that Zoe would end up turned into a bear shifter by Simon.
Tate sighed, and Zoe turned to look at him, her chin still on his shoulder. "Okay, Tate. Spill. You're all melancholy lately. I don't like it. What's wrong?"
"It's just the weather." He tried to smile, feeling half-asleep already in the glow of the crackling fire. If he stayed for lunch, it would be too tempting to stay all afternoon and then spend the night. "Too much snow, not enough sun. You know how it is."
"Maybe we should get you one of those sun lamps," Simon said, snorting as he collapsed onto the couch across from where Tate and Zoe sat. The big bear laced his hands behind his head, dark eyes sparkling with mischief. "I've seen them at the zoo, the lions basking under the heat lamps."
Zoe scowled and leaned forward to swat her husband's feet. "Be nice."
"It's okay, Zoe. I don't have as much fat to keep me warm as Simon does, so a lamp might be the only way to stay warm this winter."
Simon laughed, a deep guffaw that distracted the tourists from the safety briefing Cooper was giving them, and he stretched out more on the couch. "Very funny, meow mix. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? You're all emo and shit."
Tate really didn't want to talk about it with his battle buddy, even though he and Simon had been through a lot, in a lot of different countries. Simon saved his life, and Tate saved Simon's, and so it went, back and forth, for years. Tate yawned and concentrated on the hot chocolate, no longer so hot. "It's just the weather, I swear. And maybe a little bit of trouble in town. Nothing really to worry about, just more drama that we don't need in the middle of a blizzard."
Simon's eyebrows rose, and Tate sighed. He wouldn't leave the Lodge without explaining to them, but at least Rosie's friend would distract Simon and Zoe from bugging him about his feelings. So he repeated what he'd told Finn, and watched his friend's eyes flash gold as he anticipated trouble coming to his mate and unborn child. But Zoe sat back to study him, her eyes narrowed. "What about the girl? How is she? How is the baby?"
"I don't know. She's staying with Rosie."
"Did she look scared?"
Tate almost flashed back to being interrogated by a scary-as-hell prison guard in a foreign country, trying to get his story straight before he and Simon ended up dead and dumped in a jungle. "She didn't look happy, but she just drove through a blizzard. She might have had a black eye. I don't know anything else, Zoe. You can call Rosie and find out more if you're really interested."
"Maybe I will," Zoe said, then hauled herself off of the couch and marched to the back office, holding her stomach as sh
e walked. Well, she waddled. But Tate wouldn't have pointed it out.
Simon watched his wife go, then shook his head and laughed. "She's nesting. Everywhere. She's already adopted three cats, an injured squirrel, half a dozen birds, and God only knows what else that she hasn't told me about. Finn, that son of a bitch, brought a baby otter in and I just about killed him. It took three weeks to get her to let the thing go to the wildlife rescue, and she cried for a week over it being gone. I'm losing control, man."
"You never had any control," Tate said, trying not to smirk. Zoe had always been a soft heart for animals, but all the room at the Lodge — and all the money she and Simon had to support the habit — just meant she could take in every stray that wandered into the yard. Maybe Tate needed to make a trip to the county animal control, maybe empty it of every dog and cat just to give Zoe something to love on until the baby arrived. "Stop foolin' yourself."
"True enough." Simon frowned at the fire for a long moment, and Tate braced himself for a serious question for once. The bear rubbed at his beard. "She's worried about you, man. I am, too, but I know you better, I think. I have more tolerance for your moody shit than she does. Don't make Zoe worry, hear me? She doesn't need the stress, and if you make her upset, I will beat your ass up and down this mountain."
Tate laughed, finishing off his hot chocolate. "That's supposed to make me spill my guts? Jesus Christ, Simon. It's been too long since you did an interrogation. You gotta up the trust before you start making threats."
"You know what I'm talking about, Tate."
"Yeah, I know." Tate sighed and made an irritated noise, rubbing at his eyes. "I don't want to talk about it. It's just this time of year. I'll be fine, okay? Don't fucking dwell on it, and don't ask me again."
"Is it being out here? You don't have to stay, man. I know Zoe wants you in Bear Creek, but if you've gotta go back to LA or Seattle or wherever to be happy, do it. Life's too short." Simon raised his eyebrows and smiled as Zoe waddled back, hands braced at her lower back, and he got up to help her sit before heading for the kitchen. "I'm serious, Tate. You staying for lunch?"
"Of course he's staying for lunch," Zoe said, and Simon nodded as he went to deal with the tourists over some detail. Which left Tate facing his wide-eyed, worried little sister. Zoe groaned as she held her side, putting her feet back up, and made a face before whispering to him, "I hate to say it, but I have the worst gas. Seriously. Regardless of what I eat, it's like moldy sauerkraut coming out."
"Thanks for sharing," Tate said, laughing. "And it's not a surprise, honey. The rest of us can smell it, too."
She flushed, whacking his shoulder, and leaned against his side once more. "Well, if any of the guests notice, I expect you to take responsibility. It's what gentlemen do."
"I'm not much of a gen—"
"You'll take responsibility," she said with a threatening look, and Tate laughed more before holding his hands up in surrender.
"Fine, I'll take responsibility."
Zoe patted his chest. "Good brother. The weather's getting worse, Tate, and I'm worried about you driving back and forth. After this group departs, we don't have anyone booked until after New Year's. Would you come stay up here with us? I want you to stay for Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Year's. Please? There's plenty of room. And the baby might be here, so you could be Uncle Tate from the very first day."
"I've already paid rent through January, Zoe, it doesn't..."
He made the mistake of looking at her and saw her eyes grow shiny with tears, and her chin wobble, and the color climb her cheeks as she tried not to cry. Tate groaned, putting his arm around her and hugging her close. "Damn it, Zoe, don't cry."
"I miss you," she said, and the tears broke free. "I want you to be here. And this pregnancy stuff is weird and half the time Simon is out doing stuff with the company and I can't talk to Finn about how big my boobs are getting because that would just be weird."
"It would be kind of weird for you to tell me how big your boobs are getting, too" Tate said, then cut off when she gave him another dirty look. "Right. I'm your brother so I get to hear about the boobs. Sure. Okay, Zoe. I'll come hang out at the Lodge most of the time after this group, and through Thanksgiving and Christmas and everything."
"P-promise?"
He never thought he'd be the kind of guy who did anything to keep a girl from crying, but apparently he was. Especially when the girl was his pregnant little sister. So he smiled and kissed her forehead, and even linked his little finger with hers. "I promise. Pinky swear."
"Good." Zoe sighed and rubbed her stomach, back to looking content. "It'll be fun."
Fun. Right. As long as a drug war didn't explode in town before Christmas. He was definitely leaving after lunch, and going straight to Rosie to tip her to the girl's real background. It might not have been very nice for the girl, or any of his business, but Tate wasn't about to endanger his sister and her baby for a total stranger.
Chapter 6
Sarah Jane
SJ felt like it was definitely the first day of the rest of her life, and she was tired as hell to prove it. She and Rosie and Dakota spent the day shopping, planning, and turning the spare bedroom in Rosie's apartment into something suitable for SJ and Dakota to share. Just assembling the new crib made SJ want to throw in the towel and take a nap. But Rosie was a force of nature and bulled through whatever sagging energy they experienced, until it was at least seven at night and they were down at the bar, Rosie showing her how to ring up people's orders.
Luckily there was no smoking in the bar, so SJ didn't entirely mind having Dakota asleep in her car seat in the back room. She and Rosie took turns checking on the baby, and whenever someone ordered food, SJ ran the order back to the kitchen to prepare. But most people didn't order food at Rosie's, it seemed, so mostly there was just pulling drinks. For a Tuesday night, there weren't many people even doing that.
So SJ and Rosie sat at the bar and talked. Rosie hadn't pushed on the issue of Dakota's father or SJ's ex-boyfriend, but SJ knew the older woman was just itching to dig into all the reasons SJ showed up on her doorstep with nothing. In the quiet of the bar, the sound system humming along with low-key oldies music, and a single local drunk working his way through three bottles of beer, SJ took a deep breath and took stock of her life.
"I met Chuck at the bar where I worked, trying to make tuition for school. He and his guys were always in there, throwing around money, and he was sort of good-looking. You know, not so handsome that it seemed impossible he'd be interested in me, but he wasn't ugly. Out of all the girls in the bar, though, he kept talkin' to me. Kept askin' me out, and tipping me a hundred percent no matter what the tab actually was." SJ shook her head, wishing she didn't sound like such a stupid kid for falling for Chuck's lines. "So I went out with him."
"It happens to all of us." Rosie shook her head and got up to retrieve a beer for herself, glancing into the back room to make sure Dakota still slept. "Hindsight is twenty-twenty, babe."
"I know, but I should have seen that something wasn't right. He didn't work at a normal job or keep regular hours. He was always going on business trips, all his guys stopping by at all hours. I met some of their girlfriends, and they seemed nice enough — but none of them had babies." SJ frowned into her soda, wiggling the straw through the ice. "I still couldn't figure out what Chuck wanted with me, but he was real nice. So sweet. We moved into a lovely apartment — the kind with two sinks in the bathroom. It felt like — a real family for once, you know? I even made Thanksgiving dinner for us."
SJ laughed even though she felt like crying. She felt so stupid. Playing house and pretending everything was perfect, when it was all just teetering over a steaming river of sewage. Rosie took a deep breath, leaning to bump her shoulder to SJ's. "And then two days ago...?"
"He was drunk. Well, the last couple of months he was always drunk. But something wasn't going right with his guys or his job or something, and he came home in a freakin' rage. He starte
d breaking things, throwing stuff around, and he scared Dakota. I told him to leave. I got in his face and I told him to get the hell out, that if he threatened my baby, I'd kill him." Her hands shook just thinking about it, seeing the look on Chuck's face as the veins stood out in his temples and his teeth bared, and Dakota's terrified screaming. She'd never heard her daughter make that sound before, and God as her witness, that baby would never have cause to feel that afraid again. Ever. "So he punched me."
"Bastard," Rosie said. She lifted her beer to toast Chuck, maybe, wherever he was. "May he rot in hell, and good riddance."
"Amen." SJ sipped her cola and leaned her elbows on the bar, covering her face with her hands. "He said I wouldn't leave because I'm poor white trash and already have one kid, and probably working on a second from him, and I was just waiting for my food stamps to come in. That he bought me with nice clothes and dinner out and baby toys, and I owed him. Like I didn't work or anything. And he said no one else would ever have me — not love me, just have me — because I'm still fat from the baby."
"Hold on one sec, babe." Rosie's face had gone curiously blank, and she pushed to her feet and walked to the other side of the bar. SJ sat up, holding on to the edge of the bar as she watched Rosie pick up one of the wooden chairs, lift it over her head, and then hurl it into the wall. SJ blinked. Rosie picked up the battered chair and did it again, beating the wall with the damn thing until only kindling remained in a pile on the floor.
Rosie patted at her face with a towel as she returned to the bar. "Okay, darlin'. Go on."
"I... don't think that's a good idea." SJ wanted to hug her, grateful for friends like Rosie.
"No, please. It's important to get it all out in the open, to make sure that son of a bitch's words have no power over you." Rosie smiled pleasantly, like she hadn't just destroyed a piece of furniture in a quiet rage, and refilled SJ's coke. "He's wrong, of course, and you better believe to the bottom of your heart that he was wrong, but put that shit out in the universe so it ends up back on his plate, hon."
