by V. Vaughn
Her Protector
Rescued by the Bear - Book 2
V. Vaughn
Contents
About This Book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
More from V. Vaughn
About the Author
Copyright © 2018 by V. Vaughn
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Cover by The Book Brander
Editing by Angie Ramey
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About This Book
Chrissy Johnson thinks she is happy. She loves her day job working at the animal shelter and her weekend gig performing on stage with a local band. But when Fred Carter, who claims to be a talent scout for a record label, rolls into town, she dares to dream big. Fred tries to steal more than her heart, though, and Chrissy’s life snowballs out of control.
* * *
Ryan Henry is at a crossroads in his life. As a warrior for the Le Roux clan, he has respect and prestige, but the one thing that would make his life complete still eludes him. Ryan wants a true mate. If he stays in Maine where he’s exhausted his possibilities, he fears he is destined to be alone. Luckily, fate intervenes, and when he is sent on a mission to help a North Pole clan with Christmas, he discovers his true mate along the way. The only trouble is—she’s human.
Chapter 1
Chrissy
* * *
Tears burn in my eyes, like they do every time one of our shelter animals gets a new loving home and I have to say goodbye. I touch noses with a ginger cat we call Sophie, and she rubs her face against mine. I take it as a thank you before I hand her to her new owner.
Lila Owens, an older woman who lost her cat a few months ago, takes Sophie and coos to her before putting her into a cat carrier for the transport home. I don’t bother to hold back my tears as I watch them walk out the door. They’re happy tears, though, because I know Lila will treat Sophie like a queen. While I’ll miss Sophie, it won’t be for long. I’ve learned to not get too attached because there are too many other pets who reside in the shelter to take her place.
I sniff as I turn away and walk over to a storage closet to pull out a big bin full of props. I regularly take pictures of the pets with them, and later today I will feature two of the animals on the shelter’s social media accounts. Since I came up with a campaign to showcase our animals as if they were on a dating app, we’ve seen an increase in adoption rates.
I smile to myself as I look through the various props and think about a large Husky mix. We call her Snowstorm, and I’m going to put a hand-knit hat on her head and set her on a white towel with a pair of snowshoes I brought in so that I can write about how she’s looking for a match who’ll take her out in the snow to play.
I chuckle to myself when I decide that the short-haired black dog we call Pete will be featured today as well. I’m going to dress him up as a mail carrier since he loves to fetch things and has been known to jump up and snatch the mail off the reception desk to bring it to one of us.
“What have we got today?” Erin asks as I walk with my arms full of props toward the crates where we keep the pets.
“Pete and Snowstorm are getting their profile pictures taken.”
Erin chuckles. “I’ll get the treats. I have a feeling Snowstorm isn’t going to want to hold still for us.”
Probably not, but I smile when I think about how she’ll howl in protest when I try to put a hat on her head. Huskies sure do like to talk to you.
I shake out a white sheet to pin up in the corner where I usually take photos, and Erin joins me to help set up. “Jake and I are coming to the Landmark tonight,” she says.
“Oh, good. Thank you, I know it’s a pain.” I sing in a band that plays at bars on the weekends. “Sit near the front, please?”
“Of course we will, but I can’t believe you still need us there. And it’s not a pain. We like hearing you sing.”
I step back from the display I’ve set up. “I know it’s stupid, but I still feel like I’m going to throw up every time I get on stage, and it really helps to have a familiar face in the audience for me to focus on.”
“Chrissy, you have such an incredible voice that you haven’t got any reason to think people don’t love you. Do you know I still get goosebumps every time you sing “Landslide”?”
I chuckle, because I think I sang that song non-stop to the animals for weeks when I was trying to perfect it. “Goodness, you can’t still like that song.”
“I’ll always love that song, and it gets better each time you sing it.”
It might lately, because a talent scout named Fred Carter has been paying for me to take voice lessons. He discovered me one night in Landmark, a bar a couple hours across the Canadian border where my band plays often.
Fred is amazing. When he’s not helping people like me to make a career out of singing or running his import business in Portland, Maine, he seeks out non-profits who help families in need and donates unclaimed goods he accumulates. His charity extends beyond the state of Maine as well, because he puts together boxes of clothing and household items for me to bring his Canadian contact, Brad, whenever my band plays across the border .
Snowstorm’s crate rattles as I undo the latches to bring her over and sit her on the white towel that we’ve laid out to look like snow. Erin stands next to me with a treat and tells Snowstorm to sit. The dog definitely responds to treats, but I know I’ve got precious seconds before she begins to howl. I quickly step over and place a hat on her head as Erin commands her to stay.
But the second I lift up my phone she lets out a howl of complaint. “C’mon, Snowy girl,” I say hoping she’ll somehow comply. All that does is make her want to sing louder, so I join in. Erin laughs as I howl with Snowstorm, but amazingly the dog stays put instead of getting up. So I keep going with it as I snap pictures, hoping one will work. When other dogs join in with us, I stop and tell Erin, “Give her the treats. I’m bound to have gotten a good one.”
“You can say she likes to sing Christmas carols in her profile,” she says.
I laugh with my friend as we put Snowstorm back in her crate and try to shush all the other dogs who are still howling.
“What is going on?” I hear Fred say as he walks toward me. The noise was so loud that neither Erin nor I heard him come in.
I step toward him with a smile, but he doesn’t seem to be amused by the dogs. “Hey. This is a nice surprise. Are you coming to hear me sing tonight?” I say.
He’s scowling at me instead of flirting the way he usually does, and I ask, “What’s wrong?”
“Can we talk somewhere else so I can hear you?”
“They’ll stop soon.”
“Now, Chrissy,” Fred says as he moves to walk outside.
I call out to Erin, “I’ll be right back.”
She frowns at me. She’s not a fan of Fred because she thinks he’s going to take advantage of me. I shrug at her before walking outside.
“Hey,”
I say when Fred and I can finally hear better. “What’s going on?”
He rakes a hand through his hair, and I notice he looks like he hasn’t gotten much sleep lately. His job in Portland keeps him busy, and it’s been a while since we’ve talked about anything other than my weekly deliveries for him.
“This is a hard time of year for people, you know?” he says.
“It is.” I wonder if he’s stressed because he can’t help all the families having difficulties this time of year. “The shelter struggles to get donations around the holidays, too. It’s hard.”
“No. I mean—” He offers me a smile. “That’s not a problem. I’ll buy whatever I need to keep from falling short.”
“Fred, you are so sweet.”
He lifts his hand in a dismissive motion. “It’s nothing. When I think of those—” He shakes his head. “That’s the thing. Brad told me that he’s got an overwhelming number of families in need this year and I—” He lets out a big sigh. “I shouldn’t ask you this. I’m sorry, this is too much.” He turns to walk away.
I run after him. “Fred!” I grab his arm to stop him. “What were you going to ask me?”
He takes my arms and looks down at me with sadness in his eyes. “I love how big your heart is. But—”
“But nothing. Tell me.”
“Brad needs so many supplies that it’s not all going to fit in the band’s van, so I thought that you could…”
“You want me to take another car?”
“Yeah.” Brad gives me a sheepish smile. “Do you think you could take a separate car tonight so there’s room for everything? I’ll get you something bigger than your Ford and give you gas money.”
“Of course I will,” I say. “I can’t believe you didn’t think you could ask me that.”
“Well, I know how nervous you get before a gig, and being alone before you perform isn’t always a good thing for you.”
“I do get nervous, but this is important. I think I can handle a little bit of nerves to help so many needy families.”
“Chrissy, baby.” He pulls me into his arms. “You are the absolute best.” He glances at my mouth and lets out a long sigh. “What you do to me.” He blows out a whoosh of air as he steps back. “I’ll bring a car by and have it ready to go.”
My heart skips a beat. We both have a mad crush on each other, but Fred says it’s not good to mix business with pleasure and that until I’m signed with a label, we need to keep our relationship professional. I ask, “Are you coming to see me tonight?”
He lets out a sigh. “I wish I could, but I’ve got to get back to Portland. There’s an early boat coming in tonight.”
I pout, but I know how his business works. He meets the cargo ships on the weekends to keep from having to pay someone else time and a half. It’s just one of the ways he cuts corners to be able to give so much to those in need. “Okay. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas to you, too.” He winks at me before he walks away and I let out a sigh of my own. I hate that he’s been so busy lately that we hardly see each other. He hasn’t heard me sing in two months. But Fred says I need time to grow my voice with the lessons before he can do anything and that he’s prepared to be wowed when he hears me again. I just need to be patient. I turn around to get back to my job. There are sweet animals who need loving homes, and they need me to help find their forever families.
Chapter 2
Ryan
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Marjorie, the assistant to my alpha, hands me a piece of paper, and I glance down at the itinerary I already have on my phone. I don’t say anything about how unnecessary it is, though. She’d cock an eyebrow at me as if she was silently reminding me of all the times over the last thirty-five years of my life that I forgot to do something. I swear the woman doesn’t forget a thing.
I smile graciously, “Thank you, Marjorie. I’m not sure how the clan would survive without you.”
“Hmpf,” she says. “You’re all going to have to find a way because I’m off to Colorado today.”
“And you’re going to have a wonderful time. Just don’t find yourself a mountain man and break my heart.”
She’s not the least bit affected by my good-natured flirting, but it hasn’t stopped me yet. Another piece of paper rustles as she hands it to me, and I see it’s a checklist. “Did you pick up your Santa costume at the dry cleaners?”
“I did.”
“And you know to pick up all the gifts we shipped at the mailbox center in Arctic Point.”
“I do.” I lift up the checklist. “I promise to scratch off every task I complete with a pen.”
“Do you have one?”
I smile because I’m one step ahead of her. I pull a pen out of my pocket. I wink at her. “I’m on to you.”
She narrows her eyes for a second before chuckling. “You darn warriors are too handsome for your own good. Now get out of here before I double-check your luggage.”
As I make my way out of the office building, I notice fat snowflakes have begun to fall, and they create a light dust of snow on the pavement. I walk over to the maintenance shack where various construction vehicles are stored. Because I’m on company business for my werebear clan, I’m driving one of their trucks for my mission. I’m headed to Northern Canada where a North Pole clan of polar bears relocated over twenty-five years ago. They’ve fallen on hard times, and while no clan likes charity, they’ll accept a Santa for their children for Christmas.
It’s not just a charity event for me, though. I volunteered with another mission in mind. I want to find a true mate. “Hey, Bobby,” I say to the older man I see when I enter the garage.
“Ryan. Got your truck all loaded up and ready to go.”
Bobby chuckles as he hands me a set of keys. “Even the Santa suit from your truck.” He walks with me back outside. “Your sled is the red truck right over there.”
“Red?” I frown at him. “Since when do we have a red truck?”
“Since you agreed to play Santa.” He pats me on the back and walks away, laughing to himself.
“Hmm,” I grumble as I begin to walk toward a line of dark green trucks with the Bear Mountain Tree Farm logo, because guys like me don’t drive red trucks. As I get closer, I find what I’m going to drive is even worse than just red. It’s been painted to look like a sleigh, with boughs of evergreen trees, silver bells, holly, and—someone save me—the front of the truck has a bright red ball sticking out of it where a hood ornament would be like Rudolf’s nose.
“Are you kidding me?” I ask nobody in particular. I’m tempted to return to the office and tell Marjorie I’m not going, but warriors don’t back out of missions. Besides, sticking around here for the holidays when everyone around me has a true mate would be depressing.
I’d go to my parents’ house for the holiday and watch my two triplet sisters and twin brothers with their mates and children having a wonderful time, wishing I had the same. And if that wasn’t sad enough, there would be no less than ten comments about how unfair it is that I haven’t found a true mate yet. Like I don’t know.
I let out a sigh and yank open the door to the truck. I roll my eyes when the scent of a balsam fir comes to me. Someone thought I needed the added touch of an air freshener. I climb in and notice a travel mug in the cup holder. I lift it up and open the top to take a sniff. When I detect hot chocolate, I chuckle and look around to see if anyone is watching me.
I discover Bobby and the other mechanics, Dave and Joe, are outside of the garage laughing as they watch me. I have to admit, it’s kind of funny, so I shake my head as I begin to drive, and when I’m near them, the window hums as I lower it. “I’m so glad I could bring you all some Christmas joy.”
“Have a safe trip, Santa,” Joe says.
“Merry Christmas!” Dave yells.
“Yeah, same to you clowns.”
“Give us a toot of that there horn, boy,” Bobby says.
I know I’m going to regret it, but I might as
well know before I might have to use it. I tap the horn, and it lets out a sound like sleigh bells. I think the mechanics might wet their pants they’re laughing so hard. I laugh a little too. “Very funny, guys.” I lift my travel mug to them. “Thanks for the holiday cheer.” I don’t mind being the brunt of their jokes, though. They work hard, and I know they don’t get the credit they deserve for it.
I may be one of the cocky warriors in our clan—I wouldn’t be good at my job if I wasn’t—but I understand that every member of our big family has an important role. I can take a little ribbing if it keeps our mechanics happy. Especially since I’d be laughing just as hard as them if it had been another warrior in my place.
Once I get out of town, I settle in for the long drive ahead of me. Leaving at the end of the workday isn’t ideal, but I figure I can drive until midnight before I stop for the night. That cuts down on my driving time the next day, and I can arrive when there’s still plenty of daylight with my sleigh full of goods.
I flip on the radio and find it’s been tuned to a station that is playing holiday songs. The guys didn’t miss a trick, but I welcome the music and the snow that’s falling. I like Christmas, and I will enjoy seeing the happy faces of children when I deliver presents and the grateful smiles of parents when I give them practical goods the Caron Clan needs.
But even though my mission will be a pleasant way to spend the holiday, what I’m really hoping for is a present of my own in the form of a true mate. It’s rare that one doesn’t find a true mate by my age, especially now that my clan is one of five in the Northeast Kingdom territory. But somehow, I’m still alone in my mid-thirties, so it’s time for me to branch out to other clans in search of the love I want.
