The Lumberjack's Baby Bear
Sophie Stern
Published by Sophie Stern, 2019.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
THE LUMBERJACK'S BABY BEAR
First edition. October 13, 2019.
Copyright © 2019 Sophie Stern.
Written by Sophie Stern.
Also by Sophie Stern
Alien Chaos
Destroyed
Guarded
Saved
Anchored
Starboard
Battleship
All Aboard
Abandon Ship
Below Deck
Crossing the Line
Anchored: Books 1-3
Anchored: Books 4-6
Club Kitten Dancers
Move
Dragon Isle
My Lord and Dragon
The Dragon Fighter
A Dragon's Bite
Lost to the Dragon
Beware of Dragons
Cowboy Dragon
Dark Heart of the Dragon
Once Upon a Dragon
Catching the Dragon
Dragon Isle (Collection: Books 1-3)
Dragon Isle (Collection: Books 4-6)
Dragon Isle (Collection: Books 7-9)
Good Boys and Millionaires
Good Boys and Millionaires 1
Good Boys and Millionaires 2
Honeypot Babies
The Polar Bear's Baby
The Jaguar's Baby
The Tiger's Baby
Honeypot Darlings
The Bear's Virgin Darling
The Bear's Virgin Mate
The Bear's Virgin Bride
Office Gentlemen
Ben From Accounting
Polar Bears of the Air Force
Staff Sergeant Polar Bear
Master Sergeant Polar Bear
Airman Polar Bear
Senior Airman Polar Bear
Red
Red: Into the Dark
Red: Through the Dark
Red: Beyond the Dark
Shifters at Law
Wolf Case
Bearly Legal
Tiger Clause
Sergeant Bear
Dragon Law
The Fablestone Clan
Dragon's Oath
Dragon's Breath
Dragon's Darling
Dragon's Whisper
Dragon's Magic
The Hidden Planet
Vanquished
Outlaw
Conquered
The Wolfe City Pack
The Wolf's Darling
The Wolf's Mate
The Wolf's Bride
Standalone
Saucy Devil
Billionaire on Top
Jurassic Submissive
The Editor
Alien Beast
Snow White and the Wolves
Kissing the Billionaire
Wild
Alien Dragon
The Royal Her
Be My Tiger
Alien Monster
The Paralegal
Roses in the Dark
Honeypot Babies Omnibus Edition
Honeypot Darlings: Omnibus Edition
Red: The Complete Trilogy
First Shift
The Swan's Mate
Eternity: A Vampire Romance
The Feisty Librarian
Polar Bears of the Air Force
Wild Goose Chase
Star Princess
The Virgin and the Lumberjacks
Resting Bear Face
The Lumberjack's Baby Bear
The Lumberjack’s Baby Bear
Sophie Stern
Contents
The Lumberjack’s Baby Bear
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
Author
The Bear’s Virgin Darling
Don’t Date Demons
Story Copyright 2019 by Sophie Stern
He’s a lumberjack, and she’s on the run.
He lives alone for a reason, and Jace doesn't like to be disturbed, but when a woman shows up cold, alone, and scared for her life, his protective instincts kick in. She's not just protecting a bear, she's protecting HIS bear, and Jace will do anything to keep them both safe.
Even if it costs him everything.
Prologue
Polly
My feet hit the ground running, and I’m gone.
Correction: we’re gone.
I’m not alone anymore, and I probably never will be again. It’s just me and Brandon against the world now, and I’m not about to let this kid suffer alone. No matter what happens next, all we have is each other. Sometimes, though, that’s enough.
Tonight, it’s got to be enough.
I don’t have a choice.
Our world was stolen from us: our dreams destroyed. Brandon and I didn’t have any say in that. We didn’t have a say in any of it, but now I have one decision that I can make, and that I will make.
Survival.
I’m going to survive, and I’m going to do whatever it takes to get Brandon to his father.
He’s our last hope.
I run away from the house, and I move as quickly as I possibly can. They won’t realize we’re gone for a little while. I have a few minutes, at least. The men who came for us are nasty and horrible, but they’re no match for me.
They’re no match for a little doctor who isn’t about to leave a kid behind.
Moving away from the house, I turn down a side alley and keep running. If anyone looks outside and sees me jogging down the road with a kid in tow, they’re going to think it’s a little weird for a 30-something year old woman to be running with a kid and a diaper bag. I mean, it’s not like I had time to really pack. I didn’t even bring myself a change of clothes.
None of that matters, though.
I keep my ears open, but I don’t hear anything. Of course, I wouldn’t. These guys are too good to yell or shout to one another. Nobody is going to scream, “Polly stole the baby!” That would be insane, and it would give away their location.
No, none of them are doing that.
Instead, what they’re doing is so much worse.
These guys are sneaky, and they’re silent, and they know I took Brandon.
They aren’t going to stop at anything until they find me.
I turn again, and I keep running.
Chapter One
Jace
Six months.
It’s been six months since I moved to my little cabin in the woods.
Six months and nine days and I haven’t looked back.
Haven’t wanted to, if I’m perfectly honest with myself. The cabin might be isolated and the world around me might be cold, but it’s perfect in its own way.
Perfectly isolated, in any case, and that’s what I care about more than anything else.
Swinging my axe, I make a clean cut on the log I’m splitting. It was hard work at first, but after six months, I’d dare to say that I’ve nearly perfected my ability to split logs quickly, easily, and painlessly. I bring my axe down again and again, and before I know it, the sun is setting on another beautiful day in the Dragon Moun
tains.
Wonderful.
I clean everything up, store my wood neatly, and put away my axe. Then I head inside for the best part of my day: dinner. I make myself a delicious potato stew, take a spoonful of honey that I definitely don’t need, and settle in for a long evening of reading.
It’s a boring, but wonderful life, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Living among other shifters was a nightmare in so many ways. It’s nice to just be able to breathe a little bit. It’s nice to me able to have some time to myself to just relax.
It’s nice not to have to worry constantly about making the right choices or how my decisions will impact literally everybody. Leading a clan of shifters, no matter how temporary my position might have been, wasn’t a good choice.
Solitude?
Definitely a good choice.
By the time I finish my book, I’m starting to get sleepy, so I lock up my cabin for the night, change into pajamas, and crawl into bed. My small home has just one bedroom and the bed is so big it takes up almost the entire space. It’s perfect for someone like me. It’s perfect for anyone. If I ever decided to have an overnight guest – which I definitely won’t – there would be plenty of space for both of us.
Or all of us.
Depending on the situation.
Now it’s storming outside, which always makes me tired. Somehow, thunderstorms up in the mountains always seem a bit worse than they otherwise would. Not that I’m scare dof a storm. I’m not. I am, however, tired. Curling up in my favorite corner of the bed, I pull the blankets up, tuck them under my chin, and fall into a dreamless sleep.
I’ve only barely passed out when I hear knocking on the door, followed by yelling.
“Please!”
At first, I’m certain that I’m imagining things. I’m absolutely positive that this is just part of my dream. After all, why else would I be hearing a woman’s voice?
“Please! Help me! Is anyone home?”
Then I sit up suddenly, realizing that this isn’t a dream.
Of course, it’s not.
It’s actually a woman’s voice, and judging by the pounding on my door, she’s right outside. I hurry out of bed, pull on a pair of jeans, and head to the door. If someone has the guts to knock on my door, then I’ve got the balls to answer it. I move across my tiny cabin, yank the door open, and look at her.
“Please,” the woman standing on my porch is soaked, and she’s got some sort of weird backpack strapped to her chest. “I need a place to stay.”
I step aside, gesturing for her to come into the cabin, and then I close the door behind her. I have no idea why I’ve decided to play nice all of a sudden. It’s not exactly my style. I don’t really have time for anyone – let alone women – but something tells me that she’s in danger, and my inner-bear is growling with desire.
I close the door, and then turn around to take a closer look at her.
“You’re soaked.”
“You’re very observant,” she snaps. “Do you want a fucking prize?”
It takes me two steps to reach the woman in my living room. I grab her hair, fisting it, and I pull it back. Her eyes widen and her mouth slams shut as I get in her face and I hiss at her.
She nods, and I fight back the arousal that’s growing inside of me. It’s been a long time since I dominated a woman. Any woman. It’s been a long time since a girl made me feel like I was going to fucking explode with desire. This woman is something else. I don’t know what she wants or what she needs, but something tells me that neither one of us is going to be walking away unscathed from this situation.
“Now try apologizing,” I tell her. “And then you can ask me for some dry clothes.”
She opens her mouth to say something, but that’s when I hear a sound.
A squeak.
No, a little cry.
Fear covers her face, and she takes a step back, and that’s when I realize that the backpack on her chest isn’t just some sort of fashion statement: it’s actually a baby carrier, and she’s got a kid in there.
“What the hell?” I ask. “You’ve got a kid? Out in this weather?”
“Please,” she whispers. “I’m sorry for being rude. Please don’t kick us out.”
“I’m not going to kick you out,” I say.
What does she take me for? Some sort of monster? Really? Is that what I look like? Well, maybe I do. I don’t want to. I don’t want that to be the impression I’m giving off because the reality is that I’m not a monster. I’m not cruel and I’m not mean and I’m not dark inside.
But I am lonely.
And I am isolated.
And I live out here for a reason, and that reason is my own personal hell.
Now I’m in a cabin with a woman and a baby. What do I know about babies? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I know even less about women, if that’s at all possible. I know one thing, though. These two aren’t going to last very long if I don’t get them into dry clothes.
“Give me the baby,” I say, reaching for the kid. “And get some dry clothes from the dresser.”
She doesn’t want to. I can see the hesitation in her eyes, and I don’t know whether that’s fear or nervousness she’s hiding there, but I know that she understands she doesn’t have a choice. Not anymore. She’s got one shot at whatever it is that she’s doing. One shot.
She has one chance to get this right and if she blows it, she knows that she’s going to be back in the storm. None of us wants that to happen.
Finally, after silently fighting with herself, she hands the baby over to me. I take it gingerly, carefully, surprised at just how light the little one is. I peek down at the baby. He doesn’t cry. He doesn’t get upset. He just looks up at me and for a quick second, I wonder if this is what my own baby would have looked like. Shoving those thoughts down, I push everything aside and look up at the woman. She’s managed to find a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, and she looks over at me.
“Don’t look,” she says.
I raise an eyebrow, and she swallows. Hard.
“Please,” she adds quietly, and I turn around to give her some privacy.
I hold the baby, bouncing him gently. The only noise in the cabin is the sound of her wet clothing hitting the floor. A minute later, I hear her pulling on the dry clothing.
“Okay,” she says. “It’s safe.”
I turn around and I have to practically fight to keep myself from going insane.
No, it’s not safe.
Nothing about this woman is safe.
First of all, she looks incredible in my clothing. She looks luscious and sweet and curvy as hell. Her hair is down and damp, and it flows gently over her shoulders. Everything about her screams sweet and innocent, except for the fact that she’s no longer wearing a bra. Her nipples are hard and poking at the thin fabric of the shirt. I look away quickly and meet her gaze.
“Thank you for the clothes.” She reaches for the baby and I hand him over.
“I don’t have any baby clothes.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she says. “I might have some dry ones in the bag.”
“The bag?”
Oh.
She has a little bag. She pulls it open and sure enough, the interior happens to be waterproof and she’s got clothing and diapers in there, along with what looks like baby food. I don’t know what babies like to eat, but if I had to guess, it doesn’t taste very good, at least judging by the contents of the bag.
The woman gets to work changing the baby into dry clothes and I watch silently.
“Can I get a towel?” She asks, looking up at me. “He’s still really wet.”
“Of course.”
I head to the bathroom, grab a towel, and come back. Then I look at her and the baby, and I try to figure out what the hell is going on. Why are th
ey here? Of all of the places in the world they could be, why my home? Why now? Why tonight?
She finishes dressing the baby and then looks up at me.
“We don’t stay long. Just until the storm stops.”
“Like hell,” I find myself saying, and I think I’m just as surprised as she is by my intensity.
“Excuse me?”
“I said, like hell. You’re running from something, and I’m not about to send you and this baby back outside until we get that squared away.”
She tenses and looks at me.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” I raise an eyebrow. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, sweetheart. You’re not dressed to go hiking. You’re out here with a kid. I doubt you have enough diapers in that little bag of yours to last you more than two or three days, tops. You took off at a moment’s notice and grabbed only what you could.”
She stares at me, gawking.
“How close am I?”
“Okay,” she whispers. “Pretty close.”
I take a seat at the kitchen table and cross my legs. I’m not going anywhere. From the looks of the storm raging outside, neither is she. There are a million questions racing through my head, but I bite back all of them and just wait patiently.
I can outwait her.
There’s no doubt about it.
Quickly, I take in this woman. She’s got a manicure and her hair, despite being wet, looks like it’s well-maintained. She had it cut recently. Her skin looks soft and creamy, so I can tell that she takes good care of herself. She looks like she’s much too well-groomed to be the kind of girl who goes camping in the woods with strangers.
So, who is she?
And why did she wander onto my doorstep?
“Let’s start with your name,” I say finally.
Nothing.
She just stares at me with a horrified look on her face, as though it’s the most awful idea she’s ever heard: giving her name to a stranger. I raise an eyebrow. Is she serious right now? That’s legitimately the least and smallest piece of information I could have possibly asked her for, yet she hesitates. I realize that no matter what she says next is going to be a lie. If not an outright falsehood, then at least a partial truth.