Woodsman Werebear, Page 2

  “You’re in Boarlander territory. Why?” he asked, sauntering toward her, his gait graceful compared to her shuffle.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about or what you’re asking,” she murmured tiredly. “And I’m super bad at riddles, had a crap couple of days, and the only possible ride I’ve seen on this road ignored me, then called me a dude.”

  “Well, your hair confused me, and I only saw you from the back.”

  “We can’t all look like Fabio,” she deadpanned, coming to a stop in front of him and arching her neck back to take in his full height. Holy hell balls, he was tall. His eyes were a piercing blue, all surrounded by that…mud?

  “Ha,” he huffed out. “That’s what my crew calls me, too.”

  “Your crew.”

  The man’s nostrils flared, and he frowned. “What are you doing way out here?” Looking around pointedly, he said, “This ain’t exactly a good spot to vacation.”

  “Oh, the hitchhiking gave me away as a tourist, did it?”

  “Dead giveaway.”

  Riley liked the easy way in which he bantered. Oh, he was still mad about his flat tire, but at least he could plaster on a smile and talk cordially, and right now, as tired as she was, she was going to say that spoke well of him.

  “Want me to change that for you?” she asked.

  His gold brows lifted high, and a small smile ghosted his lips. “You’re offering to change my flat?”

  Riley snorted and pressed her palms against her aching back. “No, I was joking. I will, however, sit over there by that tree and watch you change your flat while cheering you on, and then I will graciously accept a ride from you when you are through.” She meandered off through the dry, early autumn grass and called over her shoulder, “I’m Riley Miller, by the way.”

  “Drew Hudson,” the man said in a troubled tone. “Are you hurt?”

  “No, why?”

  “Because you’re walking funny.”

  “You sure know how to compliment a dude-lady.”

  “No, I mean… Sorry. Forget it. Give me twenty minutes to change the tire, and I’ll give you that ride.”

  “Go, Drew, go,” she said, waving her fists half-heartedly in the air and fulfilling her promise to cheer him on.

  Chapter Three

  Riley Miller. Drew liked her name. It suited her no-nonsense attitude and relaxed demeanor. She dressed like a hobo, clutched an oversize duffle bag in front of her like a shield, and her hair looked like she’d cut it herself, but her face…damn. Riley was a stunner.

  Dark hair, dark lashes, and an olive complexion that said she had something exotic in her bloodline. Pacific Islander or native Hawaiian, perhaps. She certainly didn’t look like the usual fare of townies down in Saratoga, and he’d bet his favorite pair of work boots she wasn’t from around here. It was her eyes that had held him stunned when he’d turned toward her. They were wide, like a wood sprite’s, and slightly slanted, and the color was a light brown-green he’d never seen on a human before.

  And more curious than anything was the way his bear had stopped bitching the moment Drew locked eyes with the strange woman. In fact, his inner monster had seemed just as rocked by this little force of nature as Drew had been.

  He cast a quick glance over at her as he loosened the spare tire from beneath his truck bed. She sat down under a stately pine tree, clutching her duffle to her stomach. With a sigh, she leaned back against the bark and offered him a smile. The expression didn’t reach her eyes, though, not like it had a minute ago, and it struck him how much of their conversation had been an act for her. She looked exhausted now.

  Worry niggled at him. He should feed her or…something. No. He wanted to donkey kick his instincts. She wasn’t his to protect or coddle. She was a stranger, and as soon as he dropped her off to wherever she was going, he’d never see her again.

  A soft growl rattled his throat at the thought of his limited time with Riley, but it was just his bear shifting his mind to anywhere other than Mom. Drew almost laughed. It was so fucking obvious. Tagan had banned him from fighting, and now his bear was desperate for something else to put his thoughts on. And he’d chosen a homeless ruffian with a questionable taste in haircuts and a fondness for baggy clothing.

  That’s all this was. Nothing more.

  That matter solved, Drew jerked the spare tire out of its cradle and carried it to the front right where his other one was shredded.

  “You’re super strong,” Riley observed.

  Oh right, shit. “The tire is really light is all.”

  “I actually know a lot about cars. My dad was a mechanic, and he used to drag me to his shop when I was out for the summers. He put me to work on the payroll as soon as it was legal. No tires are weightless like you just made it look.” There was a frown in her voice, as if she was trying to work something out in her mind. “Must be those big muscles. Are you a gym rat?”

  Drew snorted. They did have a makeshift gym under an awning at the trailer park, but he didn’t get his physique from there. And why was he blushing? “I’m a lumberjack, not a gym rat.”

  “You’re a lumberjack?”

  When he stopped twisting the wrench on a particularly stubborn lug nut long enough to look over his shoulder, she had her head canted and her eyes narrowed. “I’ve never met a lumberjack before. I always imagined they wore more flannel and walked around with an ax slung over their shoulder. And maybe followed around by a blue bull.”

  “Oh, she’s got Paul Bunyan jokes. No flannel until wintertime when it’s colder than ice up in these mountains. I do have an ax in the bed of my pickup along with a bunch of other tools I randomly need, and no blue bull, though there is a little pygmy goat named Bo up where I live that follows me around and head-butts me in the shins whenever I’m not paying attention. He’s a bit of an asshole.”

  “Aw, just a little goat against a big old mountain man,” she crooned with a pouty lip he suddenly wanted to bite. “Maybe you’re the asshole, and he is just reminding you.” Her stifled smile and dancing eyes told him she wasn’t serious.

  She sure was a sassy little thing. And a beautiful distraction.

  Hiding his amused grin, he went back to unscrewing the lug nuts on the rim of the ruined tire. “You know, I heard you say ‘Karma’s a bitch’ earlier. Was that you saying my flat tire happened because I didn’t offer you a ride?”

  “Maybe. And how did you hear that? I was way over there.”

  Crap. “Uh, your voice carries out here. Are you a city slicker?”

  “Yes, I am. I think this is the first time I’ve seen a pine tree besides the ones you can buy at a tree lot during the holidays.”

  “You like the views out here?” Why did her answer matter so much? He wanted her to like his territory. Distraction, she is a distraction.

  “This country is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. Even the air smells clean.”

  The honest notes in her voice made him look at her again to see if her eyes had taken on the same dreamy quality her words had. To his disappointment, she was looking down at her duffle bag in her lap, though, hiding that gorgeous eye color from him.

  “Riley? What are you doin’ out here?”

  With a slow inhalation of breath, she looked at him, leveling him with those beautiful eyes. “Running.”

  “From what?”

  Sadness washed over her face as she shook her head.

  “Okay, then what are you running to?”

  Riley licked her full lips and shook her head again.

  Frustrated at the pile of secrets she was obviously protecting, he tried a different angle. “Can you at least tell me where I’m taking you?”

  The zip of her duffle bag was loud in the quiet of the mid-afternoon woods. She pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Ten-twelve Fleece Creek Way. I’m supposed to meet a man named Damon Daye in a week. I’m a little early.”

  The oxygen huffed from Drew’s lungs as he froze. He must’ve heard her wrong. “Wait
, what? You’re going to Damon Daye’s house?” Billionaire Lair was a better term for the mansion the old dragon had built into the side of a mountain. Whatever it was called, it was no place for a human. “What business do you have with him?”

  “Do you know Mr. Daye?”

  “Yeah.” And he ate people who fucked with shifters. Ate. Them. “He isn’t that friendly toward trespassers.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t be trespassing since he invited me.”

  Drew looked at the beautiful woman in a new light now. Maybe she was to be Damon’s claim. The ancient shifter had to be getting lonely for a mate. It had been a while since his last one had died. That was the trade-off for immortality. Everyone passed on while Damon stayed the same. Drew stood and clenched his fists at his side. If he thought a gorilla shifter was a good fight, well, battling a dragon for this little human would bring down entire forests. No. Drew closed his eyes and swallowed hard against the influx of bear’s murderous thoughts. He wasn’t fighting anyone for anyone. Damon was an ally. Hell, over the past year and a half, he’d been a friend to Drew and the rest of the Ashe Crew. If Damon wanted to court Riley, so be it. That wasn’t any skin off his neck.

  “Are you okay?” Riley asked from right in front of him. “You’re shaking.”

  Drew shook his head, feeling drunk and unbalanced with her so close. He took a step back out of self-preservation. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just had a shit day.”

  “I can tell. You have mud all over your face.” Riley was staring at him, head tilted and eyes troubled.

  Mud? He leaned down and looked at his face in the side view mirror. The swelling from the fight was all gone thanks to his shifter healing, but the dried blood remained. “That’s not mud,” he murmured as he wiped his hand over a thick stream that had dried and flaked. “It’s blood.”

  The acrid scent of fear was immediate, and he jerked his attention to the woods to look for the danger that had scared Riley. He’d kill anything that tried to hurt her. But it wasn’t the woods that had caused that bitter scent to waft from her skin. She was staring at him with wide, frightened eyes. “Why are you covered in blood?”

  “It’s mine.”

  “I don’t see any cuts.”

  Nor would she. All of his cuts had healed during the past hour and half it had taken him to get here. Riley backed up and clutched her duffle bag tighter in front of her.

  “Whoa,” Drew drawled, holding his hands out like she was a startled animal. “The cut is in my hairline. I fight for extra cash while I’m waiting on logging season to start. Season runs from October to June, and right now, money is tight for me, so I do some boxing on Saturday nights and earn enough for groceries. I just came from there.”

  “It looks like you got your ass kicked.” The nervousness that still lingered in her voice gutted him.

  “You should see the other guy,” he joked, trying to ease her tension.

  “I don’t think I would like that.”

  Drew dropped his hands to his sides and frowned. “You wouldn’t like what?”

  “I wouldn’t like watching you fight.”

  Worry pooled in her bright eyes, and he heaved a relieved sigh. At least she didn’t think he was a monster anymore. He was, no doubt, but at least she didn’t know it.

  “Here,” she said, pulling a bottled water from the side pocket of her luggage. “Oh, I have a washrag, too, I think.” She rummaged through her bag and came up with a dark gray cloth.

  Drew muttered his thanks and doused his face with the cool water, then scrubbed it with his hands so he wouldn’t get much on the small towel in Riley’s outstretched hand.

  “Stop, stop, stop,” she said, stilling his hand. “You’re getting it on your shirt and making it worse. Here, let me.”

  Drew froze there under her touch, an unsettling sensation of excitement and dread making his stomach clench. The washcloth was soft against his cheek as she ran gentle strokes across his skin, still tingling from the healed cuts and bruises. With a shaky exhalation of breath, he lifted his gaze to hers. Her eyes had softened as she cleaned him. Riley was tough, that much was as plain as the sky was blue, but she was also a caregiver. Another appealing layer to the girl with the odd hair and the baggy clothes.

  Damon was a lucky man.

  A sense of loss curdled Drew’s stomach. Straightening, he took the cloth from Riley’s hand and wiped his face clean with a couple of rough strokes. He couldn’t afford to get attached to anything or anyone. Losing Mom had proved his bear couldn’t handle any kind of bond beyond the Ashe Crew.

  “You’re cold,” he observed gruffly. Even covered in that hideous jacket, she shivered. The sun was high above the mountains, but it was on the cusp of autumn. Though her jacket was baggy and covered most of her, the material was too light for cold October days in the mountains of Wyoming. “Get in the truck and turn the heater on. I’ll have this tire fixed shortly, and then I’ll take you to Damon Daye.” His throat clogged on that last part, and he had to force Damon’s name past his lips. His bear was becoming unruly again.

  He handed her the washcloth, but hesitated. He wasn’t stupid enough to just hand over his DNA to a stranger. “You aren’t IESA, are you?”

  “I don’t know what that is,” she muttered through a frown as she wrung the water from the soiled cloth.

  Honest notes rang out with each word, and Drew knew he was good. She wasn’t a danger to him. If she meant to run one of those fucked up experiments that government agency, IESA, had tried on the Breck Crew, she wouldn’t be wasting all that DNA-lush liquid by wringing it out onto the asphalt.

  She climbed into his truck and, a moment later, the engine roared to life. He used her distraction to kick the jack out, lift the truck with one hand, shove the new tire on, and settle it back down again with a song of groaning metal. Mom’s truck was falling apart, but he’d rather hack off his toes than trade up. This old beater ride was all he had left of her now. Quick as a whip, he tightened the lug nuts back into place and tossed the old tire and tools into the back.

  In the truck behind the wheel, he shut the door closed beside him and snuck another glance at Riley. She was hunched forward, hugging the duffle bag to her body, as usual, and her chopped-up hair fell forward to cover her face. Pity. He’d been hoping to get another glance at those clear, wide eyes of hers. It wasn’t just the color that had him under a spell, either. Every emotion showed through them. Happiness, fear, humor, reserve. Riley was animated in a way he’d never seen another person be. He wanted to make her laugh just to see her eyes dance and to distract him from the gnawing anger inside of himself. He was ugly on the inside but Riley—soft, human Riley—made him forget that when she smiled.

  And now, he was taking her to Damon.

  Drew swallowed the snarl in his throat and jerked the truck into drive. Easing back onto the road, he cursed himself for letting his interest in the woman get this far.

  She wasn’t his, would never be his.

  Riley Miller was nothing more than a small detour on his road to destruction.

  Chapter Four

  If Drew knew she was pregnant, he didn’t show any signs of it. Granted, she was hiding her swollen belly as best she could with the trench coat and her duffle bag. She felt like a liar, but on the off-chance that Seamus tracked her bus route to Saratoga, and if Drew recalled a dark-haired hitchhiker heavy with child, her ex would find her for sure. That man wasn’t the type to give up on a hunt, no matter how long it took.

  And it wasn’t just her safety she had to worry about now. She had a little one to protect until she got the baby to air. Plus, she didn’t want Seamus anywhere around Diem and Bruiser Keller, or Damon Daye. They’d been so nice to her already and didn’t deserve the trouble that followed her ex around like a shadow.

  Drew pulled off the main road and onto a one-lane street paved with pot-holes and gravel.

  “Is this Mr. Daye’s street?” She fidgeted, growing worried that A—Drew didn’t know where he was
going or B—he was some kind of ax murderer. He did have the weapon of choice in the back of his truck, just like he’d said earlier.

  “Well, he has a highfalutin road that winds around forever if you want to take the scenic route. This is a straight shot to his place, though. It’ll probably save us thirty minutes.

  “I have a gun,” she warned.

  Drew took his eyes off the uneven road passing beneath the tires long enough to give her an utterly baffled glare. “What on earth are you running from that has you carrying a gun?”

  “I carry it because it’s not exactly safe to be hitchhiking around in the mountains. I’ve seen those cabin horror films. I’m not up for being boiled, skinned, eaten, and then my bones strung up from some tree by my guts while some backwoods creepers chant to the full moon.”

  “Oh, my God. That was the judgiest thing I’ve ever heard another person say in my life.”

  Riley scooted forward and squinted at an approaching sign. Asheland Mobile Park. “Are you taking me to a trailer park?”

  “Through a trailer park and you know what we eat there? Burgers and beer, and sometimes steak if it’s payday. Not humans.”

  The way he said humans, as if it were a curse, sent a chill up the back of her neck. She swatted at the skin there and scooted closer to the window. “Are you the only one who lives here?” she asked, scanning the row of old trailers that lined both sides of the street. The community seemed to be completely abandoned.

  “No, my crew is up on the landing readying machinery. I told you, logging season starts in a few days.”

  “Is Damon Daye one of the lumberjacks you work with?”

  Drew’s single “Ha!” was loud and jarring in such a small space. “No, I can’t even imagine Damon cutting and hauling lumber. He owns these mountains. I work for him, and so does the rest of the Ashe Crew.”

  “Oh. Is that another name for lumberjacks?”

  “No, it’s the name of the group of people who lives in this trailer park. A couple of other crews work for Damon, too. The Boarlanders cut the trees, and then my crew and the Gray Backs strip the lumber and haul it to the mill in Saratoga.” He leaned nearer to her and pointed out the right-hand side. “That’s home sweet home. Contain your jealousy.”