Bear the Heat (Fire Bears Book 3)

by T. S. Joyce

  “Well, thank you for putting it some place I can pin it out of view from the cameras. I don’t know how ready the public is for your wild, spontaneous hairdo,” Tish said, gray eyes sparkling. “I’m happy for you, girl. Whatever you’re doing to get over that pinhead, Eddie, keep right on, because I’ve noticed a big change in you over the past couple of weeks, and it’s been kind of awesome to watch.”

  In her reflection in the giant wall mirror that hung in the hair and make-up room, Cora’s expression faltered. Boone had been the one to cause the stirrings of these changes, but he hadn’t called or made contact in any way over the past two weeks. It was as if he’d disappeared into thin air. She’d felt a strong connection, friendship or whatever, with him, but he’d obviously bolted.

  “Delivery for Cora Wright,” a man with a giant bouquet of pink and orange roses said. The thing was so big, it covered his torso, and the man wasn’t slender.

  “For me?” she asked, baffled.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll set it right here. The card is in the middle. You two have a nice day.” The delivery man settled the flowers on the table, fluffed the stems once, then bustled back out the door.

  Slowly, she leaned forward and plucked the card from the bouquet. Inside the tiny envelop was a yellow sheet of paper.

  Because a woman like you deserves flowers, even if they are from a friend.

  At the bottom of the card, there was a scribbled cartoon of a cheerful looking ball sack and taint with a little smiley face and bug legs. It was labeled taint-weevil.

  “Ha!” she laughed louder than she’d meant to. She couldn’t help her face-splitting grin as she read and re-read the card.

  Boone had sent her flowers, but more importantly than that…he’d listened.

  “Five minutes, the producer said into the open doorway as he bustled by.

  No time to call Boone now, but her stomach did curious flip-flops when she thought about talking to him after the show. Focus. She needed to calm down and trample the giddy feeling in her middle before she flubbed her lines and put Brandon and Deanna on the spot for an impromptu save-Cora-from-humiliating-herself-on-television scene. Like Eddie, her co-workers did not enjoy spontaneity. Eddie. Another wave of happiness washed over her as she realized the thought of him didn’t bow her over anymore, and hadn’t for days. In fact, she didn’t feel anything but anger toward him now. And pity. He was destined to lead a sad and lonely life, never knowing how to give his heart to someone and have it protected. He would always be a rat, and she pitied anyone who ended up with him.

  And Boone…sure, he’d put her squarely in the friend-zone with his note, but she was happy to be there.

  He’d sent her flowers, her first ever, and Cora was suddenly glad Eddie hadn’t ever listened.

  ****

  It was late, past eleven, and Cora was dog tired as she always was after doing the late night news in studio. It wasn’t her favorite part of the job. Any day of the week, she preferred to be sent out on assignment to cover events hosted by the town. It was a small station that catered only to the local area, so the staff was minimal, and most of them floated between multiple jobs that Mark, the producer, assigned them to.

  She fought the urge to pull off her peep-toe pumps and walk barefoot the rest of the way to her car. All she wanted to do was get behind the wheel, lock the door, and call Boone to thank him for…well…for bringing her back to life.

  She started hard when she saw a towering, shadowy figure leaned up against her car. Heart threatening to leap from her throat, she pulled an oversize serrated pocket knife from her purse and flipped it open with a practiced flick of her wrist.

  “Put your knife away, woman. I’m not here to mug you.”

  Boone’s familiar deep timbre settled her into a heaving sigh. “You scared the devil out of me.”

  “I can tell. You looked ready to gut me.” His words were laced with frank approval, so she squared her shoulders and slipped the knife back inside the hidden pocket, feeling a lot safer with a scary-looking bear shifter than when she’d left the building alone. She didn’t know why she was so certain, but Boone wouldn’t let anyone mess with her.

  Cora hefted up the giant vase of flowers. “Some hunky friend of mine sent me these,” she teased. “Do you like them?”

  Boone rocked his weight off her car and licked his lips as he approached. “I do. Did you like the cartoon?”

  “I laughed entirely too loud, and my hairdresser made me explain. I’ll keep the note forever.” She had a spot already picked out for it in the bottom of her underwear drawer where she kept meaningful birthday cards from Grandma Ruth and tiny trinkets she’d collected over the years.

  He chuckled, the sound low and alluring as he took the floral burden from her hands.

  Tonight he was dressed down. Gray V-neck thermal sweater that clung to his wide shoulders just right, sleeves pushed up enough to let those sexy curls of ink peak out from underneath, leather necklace that dipped beneath his collar, medium wash jeans with designer holes at the knees and dark, scuffed work boots. His hair was loose tonight and a strand fell in front of his face and lifted slightly in the breeze. She wished she could touch it to see if it was as soft as it looked. The epitome of masculine beauty, dangerous and alluring all at once.

  “Hey, Boone?” she said, dragging her gaze to the soft, blond day-old scruff on his chiseled jaw. “I just wanted to thank you for the flowers. I know it probably doesn’t seem like a big deal to a man, but it was a pretty cool moment for me.”

  He shot her a thoughtful glance as she unlocked her Outback, then he opened the door and strapped the vase to the passenger seat with the seatbelt. With an explosive sigh, he stood, shrugging against the material of his shirt like it was constraining him. “I don’t date.”

  “Okay.”

  “I mean, I’m not interested in you like that.”

  Her heart dropped to her toes, but she straightened her spine and lifted her chin. “Good, because I don’t like you like that either. You’re hideous.” A smile crept across her lips, but she stifled it and held his gaze.

  “Feisty,” he accused.

  “Rude,” she dished back.

  “What’s this?” he asked, frowning at her hair.

  Her breath caught as he reached beneath her curled tresses and touched at the pin that held her pink hair in place. A slow smile transformed his face as he pulled it loose.

  “Do you like it?” she asked on a breath, rocked off her axis by how much his answer mattered.

  “Yeah, I like it. When did you do it?”

  “Last night. Eddie wouldn’t have approved, and I felt like doing something that made me feel…pretty.”

  “Pretty fuckin’ sexy and job well done. If I was into stuff like that. Which I’m not, because—”

  “We’re just friends, and you don’t date. I get it. So why are you here, Boone Keller, if not to woo me?”

  “I’m taking you out. To a bar with other people, so it’s not a date or anything. It’s a get-together.” He ran his hands through his hair and muttered a curse, then leveled her a narrow-eyed look. “I had a shit day and I wanted to cut loose, and you seem like you’d be fun to drink with. Friend.”

  “I’m extremely fun to drink with, friend.”

  “You know that bar off of Lincoln?”

  “Yeah, but it’ll be crawling with tourists, bear-shifter man. You ready to sign autographs and fend off groupies?”

  “They have cheap shots and fifty cent pool tonight.”

  “Touché. Well worth the oglers. I’m in, but not dressed like this. Meet you there?” Why did the thought of cutting this conversation short make her want to step closer to him? She snuggled deeper into her jacket and forced her feet to stay planted like Cypress roots.

  “Sure.” He reached out and tugged the curl she’d dyed. “See you there, Trouble.”

  Her cheeks warmed as he walked away, and she pressed her cold knuckles against the flush there to cool her face. She l
iked that pet name. He cast her a quick glance before hopping into an old, rusted-out, beat-up clunker Chevy. It had probably been blue at some point if the fine strips of remaining paint were anything to go by. For some reason, it struck her as so…Boone. Sure, he could probably afford nicer on his fireman’s salary, but the man seemed to harbor a quiet loyalty that stretched from his crew to his ride. He’d probably kept the thing running for years.

  As dangerous as it was to think of him in any light bar friendship, there was nothing sexier on this earth than a loyal man.

  Chapter Five

  The skintight little black dress and sky-high heels Cora had chosen for beer pong night at a local tavern had seemed like a good idea until she made it about two blocks in the cold autumn air. By block three, she was covered in gooseflesh, shivering, and sporting twin blisters on the backs of her ankles, but Grandma Ruth didn’t raise no complainer, as she’d often told Cora when growing up under her roof. So on she marched, clutching her purse, hoping this wasn’t some sort of prank and Boone wasn’t going to stand her up.

  She’d primped for him.

  There it was, the thought out in the universe. Was it annoying that she wanted him to look at her as more than a friend? Yes. Hell yes! He’d made it clear he wasn’t into her like that, but gosh dang it, Boone was clamp-that-mouth-shut-wipe-that-drool sexy, and it wasn’t fair that she was the only one who had to donkey kick her hormones back below magma-heat levels around him. He should be affected by her too, hence the dress.

  The nerves kicked in as she turned onto Lincoln Avenue. She gripped her purse to steady one of her shaking hands and tugged self-consciously at the hem of her dress as she turned up the walkway to the bar, heels clip-clopping over the cement. The bar was rustic and had been around for a hundred years, at least. It had been a shop during the mining days when Breckenridge first started booming. Dark wood siding around the exterior with cream-colored trim, the bar was a quaint mix of mountain cabin and cozy Victorian abode with a wraparound front porch and old-fashioned lanterns in the windows. Rock music blared from inside as she reached for the door handle.

  She could do this. It was just Boone, her friend, and a bunch of locals and tourists, and after a shot or two of cheap tequila, she’d be just fine.

  What was wrong with her? She didn’t even get this nervous before going on-air. Stop it. You’re okay. You’re a strong-ass, independent woman, and he’s just a man. A sexy, intimidating, wild man who is probably a thief of hearts and a demon in the sack, but still—just a man.

  With a steadying breath, she hesitated, then pulled open the door. Inside, the bar was dim, illuminated in gold by the hanging pendant lights. Scattered everywhere were dark wooden tables and mismatched chairs. The murmur of the full bar warred with the volume of the music, but all that died to nothing when her gaze landed on Boone.

  He was leaned back on a barstool, talking to Dade Keller, his younger brother. Rolled sleeves on his tight gray sweater showed off the ink on his arms as he rested his elbows behind him, and his abs flexed against the thin material of his shirt as he laughed low and shook his head at something his younger brother said to him. But when his nostrils flared and his eyes tracked to her, he stilled and the smile faded from his lips.

  She stood frozen there, prey under a predator’s gaze. Heart-thumping, pulse roaring in her ears. She swallowed hard at his hungry stare as he dipped his attention to her legs, then raked back up her body. Pretend all he wanted, but with a look like that, Boone wanted her on some base level as much as she wanted him.

  With every second he held her trapped in his gaze, her crush on him grew, pulsing against her insides, making it hard to breathe, hard to move.

  A shadow covered her. A man with shoulders the width of a semi stepped in front of her, breaking Boone’s spell and allowing her a trembling breath of relief.

  “Hey, you’re that lady from the news. I knew it was you. Derek,” the man called with a big grin peeking out from beneath his full beard, “I told you, it’s really her.” A trio of guys at a pool table nodded and waved, so she smiled politely back.

  “Hey, can I get your autograph? My lady and I watch you all the time.”

  “Of course,” she said, cheeks burning.

  “My name’s Jack.” He offered his hand, then pumped hers in a bone-rattling handshake.

  “Cora,” she said with a giggle. “Nice to meet you, Jack. You have anything for me to sign? I have a pen in my purse, but no paper.”

  Jack frowned thoughtfully and scanned the immediate area, then snatched a discarded bar receipt from a nearby chair. He unrumpled it and handed it to her. Leaning over a tall, circular table, she signed it To my bar buddy, Jack, then scribbled her name and handed it back.

  “Hey, thanks Cora. My lady, Jenny is her name, she’s not going to believe she missed meeting you tonight. She wanted to let me have a guy’s night. She’s real sweet like that. Hey, can I buy you a drink? Strictly as a friend who is in a happy, healthy relationship with someone else. Just as a thank you.”

  Cora opened up her mouth to say he didn’t have to go to the trouble, but a beer appeared in front of her, held by one oversize hand with ink curled up to the edge of a storm-gray sweater sleeve.

  “Sorry, man. I’ve already got this one,” Boone said with an easy smile. “You want to get the next one?”

  Cora canted her head and smiled as she accepted the drink. He wasn’t being mean to Jack or acting jealous and standoffish like Eddie would’ve done. Here was a man completely at ease with his place in the world. That, or he really wasn’t jealous because they were just friends. Her smile dipped, so she covered it by taking a swig of her beer.

  “Hey, you’re one of those bear people from on the news!” Jack said. “Derek!” Jack gripped Boone’s shoulder and shook him slowly like he was a long lost friend. “It’s one of those bear people! In this bar. Drinking with us!”

  Derek was a short man with big muscles pushing against his flannel shirt. His dark eyes hardened when he looked up from his game of pool and glared at Boone. He didn’t wave to Boone like he’d waved to Cora.

  “What’s your problem, man?” Jack asked.

  “Don’t care about no fuckin’ bears, Jack.” Derek spat the word bears with vitriol.

  “Whatever. Barkeep!” Jack called out, diverting his attention to the bar in back. “Put their next drinks on my tab. We’ve got bona fide famous people in here tonight.”

  “I sure appreciate it,” Boone said, shaking his hand. “We’ll see ya.”

  “Yeah,” Jack said in a dreamy voice. “Oh, can I get a picture with you two so I can show my lady I wasn’t just drunk and making this up?”

  Cora laughed and said, “Sure.”

  She and Boone flanked him as he pulled his phone out, and she smiled her best news reporter grin as Jack gave a thumbs-up sign and took a selfie of all of them.

  Boone clapped him on the shoulder and told Jack how nice it was to meet him, then pressed his palm on the lowest point of Cora’s back and gently guided her to a table in the back corner of the bar.

  Leaning down, he murmured, “You look beautiful.” He cleared his throat once, as if he’d remembered himself and amended, “but that dress doesn’t make any damned sense in a place like this.”

  “I live in a condo with about a quarter of my wardrobe. Take what you can get, Keller.”

  He halted and narrowed his eyes, then leaned down and whispered in her ear, “I don’t like you calling me by my last name.”

  “Why not, friend?” She’d meant for the words to come out strong and forceful, but they came out unsteady and breathy instead. His lips were so close to her ear, and he wasn’t pulling away. Her knees wobbled.

  “My handler used to call me by my last name.” He pulled her sensitive earlobe between his teeth and left them there for a moment, grazing her skin. He bit down gently before he released her, causing her sex to pulse once between her legs.

  Afraid her knees were really going to give out,
she clutched his arm and leaned forward. “What is a handler?” she asked on a shaky breath.

  Boone’s arm flexed to steel under her palm, and he eased back. His eyes had gone cold and closed down, ice blue where moments before they’d been warm. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with. Come on. I want to you meet some people. And don’t freak out or read anything into meeting my family. You need to get to know them for the interviews.”

  Right. Put in her place again, so she wouldn’t get the wrong idea after he’d sucked on her ear in the middle of a crowded bar and soaked her panties. Oaf. Irritated, she pushed off him and took a long swig of her beer as she approached the back where some of the Breck Crew were hanging out. She didn’t need Boone to make introductions if he was going to be a jerk about this. Hot and cold, like a faucet with a faulty water heater, that was Boone, and she didn’t like games. Never had.

  She marched past the beer pong tournament and stuffed longhorn steer heads on the wall. Past the counter where the bartender nodded his head and smiled a greeting. Past the hallway to the restrooms and the giant Bud Light signs hanging down from the exposed beam ceilings like tapestries.

  She nearly stomped her clacking high heels up until the point where Dade Keller turned around, all cropped blond hair, intense blue eyes like his brother, and a knowing smile she had no clue what to do with. When, one by one, Dade, Cody, Rory, and Quinn noticed her approach, she got a funny feeling of being trapped, as if she’d walked into a den of sleeping lions.

  “H-hi.” Her professional composure out the window, the pressure of meeting Boone’s family face-to-face suddenly seemed overwhelming. Sure, she’d been there when the bears had turned Quinn and come out to the public, and she’d been there at the conference where the Breck Crew tried to calm the world about their existence. But they weren’t just some bear shifters she wanted to score an interview with. They were important to Boone. Great hairy balls, why did this suddenly matter so much to her? “Where’s the other one? The big one? Oldest? With the cubs. Gage?” She cleared her throat as her cheeks turned to molten lava. This was going swimmingly well.