by Dani Dundee
I lean my forearms onto the table and stare into her satisfied eyes. A stray piece of hair covers part of her face and I brush it away. Then she gazes at me like I’m her world and something snaps within me.
“I love you Mallory.”
My profession comes spilling out before I realize what I’ve said. It’s the first time she’s heard me say these words to her. I wait for her reaction and see her soulful eyes fill with tears. When one falls down her cheek, I kiss it away.
“Oh, David, my sweet scoundrel. I love you too.”
***
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About LIV MORRIS
Raised in the Ozark Mountains of Missouri, Liv Morris now resides on St. Croix, USVI with her first and hopefully last husband. After relocating eleven times during his corporate career, she qualifies as a professional mover. Learning to bloom where she’s planted, Liv brings her moving and life experience to her writing.
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Table of Contents
Red Hot Candy
Table of Contents
The Things I Never Said by Jo Raven
Perfectly Equipped by Lacey Silks
Billionaires in Disguise: Rae, Kidnapped by Blair Babylon
A Fan-TAB-Ulous Night by Olivia Rigal
Take it Easy by Daisy Prescott
Before Flesh by Sky Corgan
Scorched into Submission by Daizie Draper
Pandora's Box by Sarah M. Cradit
Braving Love by SJ Mayer
Always Enough by Molly McLain
Mine In Dreams by Olivia Hardin
Like Home by Mira Bailee
Unshakeable by JC Valentine
Yearning to Yield by Pavarti K Tyler
First-Class Scoundrel by Liv Morris
Mated in Bearfield by Jacqueline Sweet
Le Moulin by JC Andrijeski
Jesse's Girl by Alison Foster
Dude by Gillian Cherry
Biker Billionaire's Bitch by Layla Wilcox
Swaying Fate by Irma Geddon
Gender Studies 101 by Dani Dundee
Disclaimers and Copyright Notices
MATED IN BEARFIELD
by Jacqueline Sweet
MATED IN BEARFIELD
by Jacqueline Sweet
MATED IN BEARFIELD © Jacqueline Sweet 2015
Wedding day in Bearfield means disapproving mothers, naked in-laws, bear cubs eating all your desserts and a bride trembling on the cusp of a mating frenzy
CHAPTER ONE
BEARLY INVITED
“What do you mean there’ll be no champagne?” Mina’s mother hadn’t been off the plane an hour before she was outraged.
“It’s just that neither Matt or I particularly like champagne, so we’re going with something for the reception that we do like. Something with personal significance. It’s this lovely honey wine that my future sister-in-law makes. The taste is just incredible, like boozy apples dancing on your tongue.”
“Mmm hmm,” her mother said, through tight lips. Celia Brooks clutched her purse in her lap and scowled out the car window, like the fresh air and rolling forests might decide to mug her and maybe she was considering a preemptive strike. Her mother was suspicious, demanding, fierce and loyal, and Mina loved her for it.
When Matt and Mina met in a storm of excitement—she was being chased by gangsters for uncovering their plan to use her patisserie as a front, Matt saved her and stole her heart—they knew they were fated for each other. Matt’s bear told him, and Mina just knew. She would have married him on that day if he’d asked her, but Matt’s people had rules about that sort of thing. Any shifter who wanted to marry his mate had to wait at least a year and a day. Werebears mated for life, so they had to be sure it was real. False matings happened. Bears could be wrong or tricked, and there was nothing the Bearfielders took more seriously than the promise of future generations of shifters padding around their town.
Except maybe weddings.
“So, this is where I live now, Ma,” Mina said, winding her car up the mountain roads that led to Bearfield. She was getting married that day and had literally ten thousand things to do. But picking up her mother from the airport had been among the most important. Along with actually marrying Matt and getting her brains boinked out afterwards. Mina’s skin tingled at the thought of it. Her tongue felt two sizes too big for her mouth. She was thirsty for the man. Starving for him.
“Well, it sure is green,” Celia Brooks said, her tone making it clear that the pristine nature of Northern California had nothing on her little corner of Chicago. Then something softened in her. They’d been at the kind of war only two very stubborn women who are related to each other can get into—they’d been at it since Mina was in high school, ten-plus damn years ago. “I’m sorry you had to come pick me up, sweetie. I would have taken a train or a cab if you lived somewhere civilized.”
Mina’s knuckles cracked as she tightened her grip on the Jeep’s steering wheel.
“But you know how hard it is for me to get time away. I only have three days here, honey, and I’d really love to not spend it fighting. I’m going to try hard. I know how I can be.” Tears were in her mother’s eyes. “I miss you, Mina.”
“Aww, Mom,” Mina said, tears now pouring down her face. “You can’t make me cry like this on my wedding day. I love you, too. I can’t wait for you to meet Matt. You’re going to love him.”
Saying his name caused Mina’s heart to race, her blood to pound, and certain other parts of her to get all tingly and excited. One of the very, very many rules the Bearfielders had about weddings was that the bride and groom couldn’t have sex for a month beforehand. Like a full actual moon’s worth of time. Kissing was okay, touching was fine, but anything that caused release was not. Even masturbation was off the table. When Shawna Killdeer—as the officially appointed spiritual representative of Bearfield and wedding officiant—pulled her aside to tell her, Mina thought she was joking. But then Shawna produced a wedding contract painted on an actual sheepskin and had Mina sign it with an ink made from berries and she realized the woman was deadly serious. No sex at all for a month.
Mina could feel the need in every bone in her body. She needed to bone, with every bone in her body. Since falling for Matt and moving in with him like the next day, they’d hardly gone twelve hours without sex. And then—poof—a whole moon’s passage without it. She was worse than a junkie, because at least junkies know what they have to do to get their fix. Mina could only wait.
But being with her mom helped her take her mind off it.
When they arrived in Bearfield proper, Celia Brooks nodded to herself. It was as close as Mina was going to get to validation from her mom. It was still early, but there were people on the streets in the quaint downtown area. Mina knew that her mother associated living in the country with being surrounded by crazy white people, so seeing the wide variety of people at home in Bearfield eased some unspoken tension in her.
But then, “What on earth is that?” Celia pointed out the window where a man was jogging down the street, shirtless. He was damn tall, with shoulders wider than most doorways. Grooves of muscle defined his body, shifting and sliding gloriously in the morning light, the sweat on his skin shining like dew on a flower. The man’s tight round booty moved in hypnotic rhythm under his running shorts. Jogging was the wrong word for what he was doing. The man was running, fast. He had been every morning, all month long.
“Do you see that?” her mother said, shooting her a look like a double rainbow had appeared in the sky over Bearfield.
“Want to say hi to him?”
“What? No, girl. Keep driving. Slowly. Just behind him.” Her mother cackled with laughte
r.
Yeah, they were related all right.
Mina sped up, following the road right out of downtown—it wasn’t very big—tailing the gorgeous man. She honked twice to get his attention. He slowed his pace and turned to see her, smiling wide and bright. Mina’s breath left her. It’d been over a year, and he still had that effect. Hell, it was getting worse. She had a feeling at eighty years old he’d walk into the room carrying whatever it was they ate in the future and she’s still catch her breath at his beauty.
She stopped the car snd lowered the passenger side window. “Say hi, Mom. Ask for his digits.”
Matt leaned against the window frame, beaming at the women inside. “Hey, how’s it going?” He wasn’t even breathing hard. Being a bear shifter meant the man had nearly limitless strength and endurance to draw upon. Mina wasn’t even sure he needed to sweat. He probably just did it because it made his skin glisten so lickably well and smell so amazing, with musky undertones and hints of honey.
“Mother,” Mina said. “This is Matt.”
“Hello, Matt, nice to—” her mother began, but froze. “Not your Matt?”
“Since the day I laid eyes on her, ma’am,” Matt grinned.
“Mina said you were handsome, but ooh. I think she undersold you.” Celia Brooks laughed and fanned herself.
“I wish I could stay and chat, but I have ten more miles to finish before breakfast,” Matt said. His eyes locked with Mina’s and for a second they glowed like sunlight through a jar of honey. His bear was close to the surface, very close. Being near Mina at all was becoming unbearable for him. Shawna Killdeer explained that the month without sex was meant to help trigger the mating frenzy in a shifter. She said the words apologetically, like she was sorry for what was going to happen to Mina. She got that a lot. Mina was short and very curvy. Matt was impossibly tall and was carved of muscles and smiles. Mating frenzy may have sounded scary to Shawna, but to Mina it sounded perfect. Yes, she almost said, give me that. Give me that every damn night.
She’d changed so much in the last year, really come into herself. She knew her mother saw it. The confidence, the ease in her voice. And now with Matt grinning at her mother, making small talk, she could see a big part of the reason why.
“Ten miles to go?” Celia Brooks asked in a suspicious voice. “I don’t need to tell you your business, son, but you might want to save some energy for your wedding night.”
“Mother!” Mina gasped.
“That’s not going to be a problem,” Matt said, a growl in his voice. His fingers squeezed the edge of the door frame, threatening to bend the steel. If he could, he would have ripped the door off the hinges and taken Mina right there. She could see it in his eyes. If the month of abstinence was hard on her, it was torture for him. Matt didn’t deny himself anything, pleasure wise. He ate pastries, slept in, and fucked like they had all the time in the world. But this month was different. It was hard on the man. The old rituals said he had to purify himself. He only ate what he caught himself, raw in his bear form, he woke with the sun and slept when it set. Mina had a proscribed diet, too, with certain herbs and botanicals delivered every day by Shawna Killdeer and made into a smoothie. She had it easy. For Matt it was no sex, no sweets, no alcohol at all. He’d told her, laughing, that his bear was incredibly pissed off about the whole thing. Human rules made no sense to it.
“Anyway,” Matt said, releasing the door frame. “I have to run. I’ll see you very soon. It was very nice to meet you, ma’am.” He winked at them both, then returned to his run, his body moving with perfect economy, his flesh a symphony of form and function.
“What does he do for a living again?”
“He’s an attorney, mom. A good one.”
“You’re marrying a wealthy attorney who stares at you like you’re a cake he wants to eat, and he looks like that?” Celia Brooks shook her head in awe. “Honey, I raised you right.”
***
CHAPTER TWO
BEARLY SURPRISED
The next stop, before entering the madness that was her home pre-wedding, was the bakery. After meeting Matt, Celia Brooks didn’t need any more convincing that Mina had made the right choice in moving out to what her mother called “Bumpkinville,” but for Mina it wasn’t enough. Matt was amazing and she loved him with her every breath, but he wasn’t her. His accomplishments were his. Mina wouldn’t be one of those women proud because her husband had achieved something great. No, she needed her own success. Her own definition.
Hence, the bakery.
The good people of Bearfield didn’t know how they’d survived without it all these years. From the day she opened her doors to the public, they’d treated her like part of the community and had devoured everything she had to offer. Literally everything. When building the place with Matt’s older brother, Marcus, she had vastly underestimated the town’s appetite for baked goods and lacked the capacity to meet the demand. She felt like she had one of those bakeries you read about in the New York Times, that invents like a new kind of donut and suddenly had mile-long lines every morning. Bearfield wasn’t that big, but a town of five thousand souls could eat a lot of donuts, apple fritters, brioche, pan au chocolate, berry tarts and just whole loaves of bread. If you added in the tourist trade and morning deliveries to all the bed-and-breakfasts, hotels and the Lodge, well, it added up. Mina was head-spinningly busy every morning, but she loved it. The town’s hunger for her food was only matched by their warmth for her. They pried into her business, they gossiped with glee, they stopped in to talk about whatever old movie Eddie Chigliak was showing at the revival theater across the street.
Mina needed her mother to see it. To see all of it. Celia Brooks had never been happy about Mina leaving Chicago. But maybe, just maybe, seeing the home she’d found here could give her mother some peace and get her off her back.
She pulled the Jeep up in front of the quaint brick building at the edge of downtown. It had that small-town California look, with rustic brick and exposed timber and huge windows looking out over downtown and the valleys beyond. Mina wanted to scream “This is mine!” and leap around for joy, but she contained herself. The rear of the bakery was the bakehouse. Alongside wound a garden that her future sister-in-law, Alison, had planted, with a modest corn maze for the kids and all sorts of herbs and spices and fruit fresh for the picking. The garden was technically a wedding gift, as was the construction of the bakery. She’d tried to pay Marcus for the building materials, but the big quiet man had looked at her like she was nuts. “Stand me a coffee once in a while. Make Matt happy, and then we’re even.” Behind the bakehouse and the garden was the wood pile. The bakery had a vintage 19th-century wood-fired oven—a gift from Matt’s younger brother, Michael. The guy ran an antique shop on the other side of the mountain and had somehow, miraculously, wink-wink, come upon the perfect oven for her establishment. When she’d made a crack about needing to learn how to split wood, her future brother-in-law disappeared for an hour and then returned, in bear form, hauling a tree. He split it into neat cords of wood with his claws. And then brought another. And then another. Now the wood pile dwarfed her bakery. She could bake for months with the stacked timber. It was just another gift from the Morrissey boys. She really hoped she was worth it.
“This is yours?” Celia Brooks asked, eyeing the place.
“Mmm hmm,” Mina said, sounding just like her mother.
“It doesn’t have a sign. How can you have a business without a sign?”
“I haven’t been able to decide on a name. We did a soft open a few months back, selling to the hotels, testing the oven, getting the recipes right, and I meant to name it then. But then the locals heard about the soft open and started showing up at the back door, asking for a taste of what was cooking. The wind carries the scent all over downtown, you see. We’re at the western edge here and all day long the people that work over there get bathed in the smell of baking bread, roasting apples, pies and everything else. It was too much for them. So the s
oft open turned into selling bread out the back door, which turned into opening the front door quietly, which turned into us being open and operating without ever having a sign or advertising or anything. I’ve got nine employees now, but seven of them just sort of started pitching in when it got busy and kept coming back. I pay them, because that’s the right thing to do, but I’m not sure they even cash their checks. I haven’t had a moment to catch my breath, Mom, since I got here.”
Celia Brooks wrapped her daughter in a warm hug. “Oh honey, I’m so proud of—is that a bear?”
Mina turned to look through the front window of her bakeshop, and sure enough. A bear cub was behind the counter, its face smeared with icing and berries. The little animal was gnawing its way through the remains of yesterday’s baking.
On a table, behind and above the cub, stood the wedding dessert. An apple pie—roasted with honey—large enough to feed fifty people. The ratios had been enormously difficult to work out. Pies just didn’t want to be that big. It had been a ridiculous challenge, but Mina had been up to it. She’d only had to cook about fifteen pies to get the recipe down. Fifteen enormous pies, each with like a whole tree’s worth of apples in it. And now a bear was going to ruin it.
“That’s a bear,” her mother said. “A real bear. It’s so small.”
“It’s a cub. The mother should be nearby, but you never know.” Mina fished in her bag for her phone. She had to call someone to help, but Matt didn’t have a phone on him, judging by the looks of his tight shorts, and Marcus was off in a sweat lodge with Shawna Killdeer, preparing their sacraments. That left Michael.
