Bearback Lumberjack (Paranormal Dating Agency)

by Liv Brywood

  If I could find it with someone as hot as Jagger, even better. He’s panty-dropping hot. His voice is enough to make me want to strip off all of my clothes and yell at him to take me. He’d probably send me directly back to the airport if I actually had the nerve to do it. I have no idea what’s going to happen over the next two weeks, but I’ve packed my sexiest lingerie, so I’m ready for anything.

  Two

  Jagger

  Gerri warned me that Angela would be curvy and sexy as hell, but I didn’t believe her. God was I wrong! Angela is hot. Ridiculously hot. Those hips. That ass. There should be laws against a body like hers. I wanted to paw at her when she first stepped out of the SUV, until we started unloading her bags. She acts like she’s moving in for good. Well that’s not going to happen. Two weeks and I’m done. I can’t believe I’m going along with this. I should have called it off.

  I walk into my bedroom and close the door. The peaceful sanctity of my home is about to be ruined. Maybe I should have put her in the boathouse. I could ask her to move, but then Gerri might come up here and kick my ass. That woman scares the crap out of me. She sure as hell won’t take any shit. Is Angela the same? What’s she going to do when she realizes I’m not really interested in getting to know her?

  I head into the bathroom and strip. A shower will cool me off. It’s still spring, but the weather’s gone crazy. It’s hot one day, snowing the next. I’m not ready for summer. I’m not ready for another relationship. I’m not ready to let my heart be ripped out of my chest and shredded right before my eyes. No way. Bachelor for life. End of story.

  Cool water cascades down my body. I wash sweat from my morning jog off. By the time I’m done, I feel like a new man. I can do this, entertain this woman until it’s time to send her packing. Then I’ll never have to listen to my brother bitch about my lack of a relationship again. He’s happily mated and thinks we should all be mated. I wish he’d mind his own business.

  After dressing in gray sweatpants and a matching T-shirt, I head into the kitchen. Seeing it through Angela’s eyes makes me appreciate everything I have even more. I inherited the cabin from my family and added on a few buildings. It’s ramshackle architecture, but I like it. I like neat and orderly to a point, but I don’t like cookie-cutter houses. I wouldn’t place a tract home in the middle of a thousand acres; it would look weird.

  I fry up several pieces of bacon and two eggs. Fresh biscuits sit in a breadbox in the center of the island. I arrange everything on a plate and carry it over to the breakfast nook. The view from here is unbelievable. I’ve lived here over a decade and it still takes my breath away.

  I’m just about to bite into perfectly crisp bacon when the doorbell rings. Great, now what?

  “Bro, you home?” Tom calls as he lets himself in.

  “Over here.”

  “Dude, you made bacon.”

  He snatches a piece. I should shift and tear his head off for touching my food.

  “There’s more in the fridge,” I say. “Feel free to fry up some more, and make me one to replace the piece you took.”

  “Is she here?”

  “Who?” I play dumb just to annoy him.

  “Angela.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Sleeping.”

  “Wow, you already wore her out?” Tom flashes a dirty grin.

  “No. She was tired from the trip.”

  “Oh.” He grabs the package of bacon from the fridge and helps himself to half the pack. “I was hoping I’d get to meet her.”

  “She’ll be here for two weeks. You can take her up to your house and keep her until her time’s up.”

  “That’s not the deal. Besides, Hazel would lose her shit if I brought another woman up to the house.”

  “Why? You love her, right?”

  “Of course. But you know women. They get jealous.”

  “Only if they have something to be jealous about.”

  My brother grabs his chest. “Ouch, that hurt.”

  “I’m just messing with you,” I say. “Look, I know you’re on the love train or whatever since you got mated, but I’m not interested in getting chained up. I like my freedom.”

  “You’ll never get over your ex if you don’t get back on the horse.”

  “I highly doubt Angela would like to be referred to as a horse.”

  “Is she as cute as she was in her pictures?” he asks.

  “She’s okay.” I avert my gaze so he can’t see right through me. I study my sunny side up eggs as if they hold some mystical truth.

  “Just okay?” He arches a brow, clearly not believing me.

  “Fine. She’s hot.”

  “That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” He flips the bacon. It sizzles in the pan. “See, all you have to do is get to know her. Meet her bear. If your bears like each other, bam! Done and done.”

  “Two weeks. Then she’s leaving. Don’t get it in your head that this is going to turn into anything real. I’m only doing this so you’ll get off my back.”

  “You have to give her a real chance.”

  “I will.”

  More lies. I have zero intention of being anything but hospitable. We won’t go on long walks through the forest, or spend an afternoon eating bon bons by the lake. We won’t spend the night on a blanket under the stars, or tell each other our deepest, darkest secrets. It’s not going to happen. But to get my brother off of my back, I can pretend to go along with it.

  “Maybe I’ll bring Hazel by in a few days. They can have girl talk,” my brother says.

  “Yeah, maybe.” I don’t want to commit to anything yet.

  “Thanks for the bacon. I should head home so I don’t get shit for not helping with the kid’s bath time.”

  “Thanks for stopping by. Call ahead next time.”

  “Will do.”

  After my brother leaves, with a pile of bacon wedge between two paper towels, I return to my seat. It’s going to be a long two weeks. I debate whether or not I should tell Angela the truth. I don’t want to hurt her, but I don’t want to deceive her either. It’s a tough spot. I should have stood up to my brother, but I just want him to stop bitching at me about finding a mate. He’s worse than our mother.

  Several hours later, Angela strolls into the kitchen. She changed out of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt into a flowery summer dress. My gaze rakes up and down her body. The fabric molds to every curve. It’s impossible to look away.

  “Did you have a good nap?” My voice comes out about an octave too low, which puts a grin on her face. Shit.

  “The bed was super comfortable.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes. I tried to eat lunch on the plane, but what they gave us amounted to two bites.”

  “Why didn’t you say something earlier?” I ask. “I would have made lunch.”

  “I didn’t want to bother you.”

  “It’s really no bother. I keep premade snacks in the fridge. As long as you’re here, you won’t go hungry.”

  I jump up, happy to have something to do other than stare at her. I really need to get my shit together and stop ogling her like a teenager. It’s not like I haven’t seen a beautiful woman before. It’s been a while, but I’ve dated plenty of hot women in the past.

  “Are you allergic to anything?” I ask.

  “Nope.”

  “Great. I’d planned on grilling steak for dinner. Do you want to join me on the back patio?”

  “That sounds great.”

  I grab the tray of marinating steaks from the fridge and lead her onto the patio. She settles into a lounge chair and leans back with a sigh. I try to ignore the way her dress rides up her thighs. It’s magnetic.

  Once the barbeque is hot, I drop the steaks onto the grill. The sun is lower on the horizon, getting ready to dip below the mountain. It’s my favorite time of day. A soft breeze carries the scent of wild flowers. Fish jump in the pond. If I were alone right now, I’d shift and let my b
ear run around in the golden light.

  I consider asking if she’d like to shift with me, but that’s asking for trouble. If our bears meet and like each other, I might not be able to stop an avalanche of emotion. It took years for me to get over my ex. I’m not ready to open up to someone new. Not yet. Eventually I might want to date again, but now’s definitely not the time.

  “Gerri told me you’re from L.A. What do you do there?” I ask in an attempt to make small talk.

  “Insurance broker.”

  “Really? What kind of insurance?”

  “Car.”

  “You must have a lot of customers. Doesn’t everyone in L.A. own two cars?”

  “It seems like it. With the way traffic is, you’d think everyone owned ten and somehow managed to drive them simultaneously.”

  “I’m so glad I don’t have to deal with that anymore.”

  “Anymore? I thought you always lived here?”

  “No. I spent a few years in Denver before inheriting this property from my grandfather.” I flip the steaks. “Medium? Medium rare?”

  “Medium rare.”

  “Good answer.”

  “What if I’d said, ‘well done’?” she asks coyly.

  “I’d have to drown you in the pond.” When her face turns white, I quickly add, “Just kidding. Sorry. Bad joke.”

  “Gerri assured me you wouldn’t chain me to a radiator in your basement.”

  “Lucky for you, I don’t have one.” I flash a smile to make sure she knows I’m still kidding around. When she laughs, I join in. Her smile is bright enough to light up the patio.

  “I saw the lake house… or is it a pond house?”

  “I call it the lake house. It’s a big pond, almost a lake. Sometimes in the Spring it will fill with runoff from the mountains and then it gets lake sized. Fortunately, we had a mild winter. But, the weather can shift quickly when you live in the mountains. If you’re ever out hiking and the sky starts to turn gray, come home, I mean, back here, immediately. We don’t usually get tornados, but we do get huge thunderstorms.”

  “I know enough to stay out from under trees when lightning comes,” she says.

  She tosses her jet-black ponytail over her shoulder. Her hair must be waist-length. Maybe longer. I’d love to see it down. My fingers tingle. I shove my hands into my pockets.

  “Gerri said you’re a lumberjack?”

  “I like to work with my hands.” I’d like to run my hands all over her body right now. That dress is killing me. “I don’t really need the money, but I need something to do. I get bored if I’m not working on a project.”

  “Will you be leaving during the day?”

  “Not for the next two weeks. Gerri insisted I take the time off from work.”

  “Me too.”

  “Good, because internet sucks here. If you were planning on working remotely, you’d be in trouble.”

  “Why don’t you have internet?” she asks.

  “I have internet, but it’s spotty at best. When it works, it’s great. But it can go out for days at a time. The company’s come out to inspect the lines multiple times and no one can figure out why I have this problem. They think there’s a problem somewhere in the connection to my place, but again, no one’s been able to find it.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Oh no.” She sits up straighter. “I didn’t mean it like that. I can live without the internet. In fact, I’m looking forward to being disconnected from my life for a couple of weeks.”

  “What’s wrong with your life?” Here it comes. The reason why she’s single. This is going to be good.

  “Nothing really. I have a good job. I live in a decent sized apartment. I have friends…”

  “Then what’s the problem?” I’m baffled. What else could she want?

  “It’s boring. The traffic is a nightmare. The smog is disgusting.”

  “Smog?”

  “Particles of pollution in the air.”

  “I know what smog is.” I chuckle. “That’s part of the reason I left Denver. As soon as I got access to this property, I started renovations.”

  “I thought it looked like parts of the house were added on.”

  “They were. I did a lot of the framing work, but had my friends help with electrical wiring and flooring. It took a couple of months to make this place livable, so I hung out in the lake house while we worked on it. After we fixed up the main house, we renovated the other houses on the property.”

  “There are more houses?”

  “Just one more. It’s more like a cabin than a guest house. It’s been renovated, but it’s still pretty rustic.”

  “Thanks for letting me stay in the main house,” she says.

  “Of course. I wouldn’t send you out to fend for yourself.” I’m mildly offended she’d even consider it.

  “I’m really looking forward to spending time with you,” she says.

  It’s like a knife to the gut. I should tell her the truth. I’m only doing this to placate my brother. Lying by omission is still lying, but I’m not ready to completely shut this down. Maybe we will end up good friends. Maybe she won’t even be interested in me. I’m over her assuming she’s going to fall head over heels for me without any evidence to back up the assumption.

  I almost laugh at how much I’ve built this whole situation up in my head. We’ll probably spend a couple of weeks together, have some casual fun, then go our separate ways. She’ll go back to L.A. and I’ll stay here. Alone. Just the way I like it. There’s no reason why we have to fall in love. In fact, we probably won’t.

  The thought calms some of the angst in my chest. I serve the steak with a green salad and fresh biscuits. We spend the rest of the evening in companionable silence watching the sun set behind the mountains. I don’t know what I was all worked up about. This is going to be easy. All I have to do is make sure I don’t open my heart to her and I’ll be fine. Piece of cake.

  Speaking of cake, I have a chocolate fudge cake in the fridge just waiting to be demolished. I can’t wait to reveal the treat. She probably won’t fall in love with me, but she will love my desserts. I’ve become a master of all things sugar. She might not have a sweet tooth yet, but she will by the time I’m done with her.

  Three

  Angela

  The next morning, I wake to the sound of birds chirping, wind whispering through the trees, and scent of French Roast. I could get used to this. No blaring car horns. No loud music, or barking dogs, or screaming kids. There’s a good chance I’ve somehow made it to Heaven without knowing it. The only reason I’m pretty sure I’m still on earth is that my head is pounding. I forgot to drink coffee yesterday and I need my fix.

  After racing through my morning routine, I slip into a playful cherry-patterned dress. I pull my hair into a ponytail to keep it out of my face, and glide pink lip gloss across my lips. This is about a cute as I can get, so I figure it’s good enough.

  As I head into the kitchen, I find Jagger dancing to African drum music. It’s loud enough to muffle my footsteps, but not so loud that it carries down the hall. He’s standing with his back to me. I slow my pace, so I can watch him move. He shimmies his hips and sways in time with the music, all while flipping pancakes on a large griddle. It’s sweet and sexy at the same time. I’m starting to think he might be a good match. I like a man who can have fun and not be so serious about himself.

  He must sense my presence because he stops the sexy gyration of his hips and turns to face me. Bright red splotches appear on his cheeks.

  “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. What are you listening to?”

  “It’s Djembe rhythmic drumming from West Africa.”

  “How did you find out about it?” I ask

  “I like to listen to tribal music from around the world. There’s something so primal about it. In a way, it’s way to connect to the rhythm of nature.” He smiles sheepishly. “I
t’s weird. I know.”

  “It’s not weird at all. It’s interesting. I usually listen to whatever’s on the radio.”

  “I look for online videos with different drum beats.”

  “Only drums?”

  “Sometimes strings or other instruments, but I prefer drums. All that pounding is a great way to relieve tension.”

  “Do you play?” I slide onto one of the barstools and rest my elbows on the counter. My face rests in my upturned hands.

  “Sometimes. I have a few drums in the music room.”

  “You have a music room?”

  “I’ll give you the full tour after breakfast. I hope you like pancakes because I think I made way too many.”

  “There’s literally no such thing as too many pancakes.”

  “Good, because I was afraid I’d have to eat them all myself.”

  “Not a chance.” He grins as he slides a heaping pile of pancakes on a plate. “Butter?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “That was a test. Just passed it.” His solemn tone catches me off-guard. Is he joking, or is he being serious?

  “I’m glad I passed,” I say carefully.

  “You know I’m kidding, right?” He winks.

  “Right. Of course.” I chuckle nervously. I’m not the best judge when it comes to whether or not someone’s kidding.

  He stands on the other side of the counter instead of sitting next to me. I’m not sure why we’re not eating at the breakfast nook, but I don’t want to ask. I don’t want him to think I’m being too needy and demanding.

  I dump a ton of maple syrup on the stack. It’s shimmering in liquid sugar by the time I dig in. They’re amazing. Perfectly soft inside, while maintaining a slightly crisp outer layer. These are easily the best pancakes I’ve ever had.

  “I forgot to ask, coffee?” he says.

  “Please.”

  “Cream? Sugar?”

  “Both?”

  “I don’t understand how anyone drinks it black,” he says. “I like everything sweet.”