Bear to the Rescue (Bear Claw Security Book 3) (3 page)

R
egan waited nervously
for Bronson to come get her. She couldn’t even blame anyone but herself for how things were turning out.

She’d come to Bear Claw Security to get a little bit of protection and now she was going to get it.

Six feet six inches of it.

Her cheeks burned at the thought of being in close quarters with blond, attractive Bronson.

It was hard enough teasing and being sarcastic to hide her strong attraction to him so she didn’t risk going against everything she believed in.

Or
didn’t
believe in, which was love in this case.

Maybe human men could love properly. But bears like Bronson only seemed able to use their extreme sexual viability to trick women into the sack and into trusting them. It was probably natural or some shit like that.

Sure enough, he showed up not even an hour later. She sighed as she logged out of her systems and looked up at him warily, waiting for some teasing comment.

But he was calm, businesslike. He had his gray suit jacket over one arm and was lightly rolling up the cuffs of his white shirtsleeves as they walked out front, waving to Hercules as they went.

Apparently, he’d taken his promise to be all business as seriously as he’d said he would.

For the first time, she felt maybe she could trust him.

What she didn’t trust was herself. Her traitorous body was reacting to his male strength, to the fresh, expensive, clean-smelling cologne he wore.

Everything about him attracted her, but she wasn’t going to give in.

“So you live around here or in the city?” Bronson asked.

“Just like ten minutes north of here,” she replied, giving him the address. “I prefer upstate. It’s quieter. But what about you? Wouldn’t you get more business if you were located in the city?”

“We’re only about half an hour out,” he said, holding the doors to the elevator and pressing the button to go down. “But I like it out here. I hate crowds. Hate the pressure of the big city.”

“I hear that,” she said.

He was being polite, distant even, and it was only making him more attractive. He was just the type of guy women would try to bring home for their daughters. Clean cut, wealthy, hardworking. At least at the outset.

He sent her an appraising look, and once again, she marveled at how handsome he was. How perfect and aristocratic his features were despite the brute strength and size of his body. His pointed nose wrinkled. “What are you looking at? Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” she said, looking ahead just as they reached the basement and the doors opened. “Nothing. Just zoning out. Long day.”

“Yeah,” he said, holding the doors open again, the consummate gentleman. She guessed this was how he acted with most people who weren’t teasing him and ruffling his feathers. Classy, polite.

Boring. Where was the fun in it?

Well, part of it was watching his taut butt in front of her as they walked into the parking garage, his tall body alert and aware as he made sure it was safe before gesturing for her to follow.

“You usually head out earlier than this,” he said.

“I like working on programming in the evenings,” she said. “I just take jobs like this so I can afford my fancy equipment.”

She flashed him a grin, and he returned it mildly. She sighed, wondering if she was relieved he was acting so comfortable or if she just wanted to figure out a way to pull him out of his shell again, see the sexually virile, teasing, aggressive, and easily irritated Bronson she often saw.

They walked toward a dark car parked next to the door, a Dodge Charger. A powerful but efficient choice. Sporty but also low key. He opened the door for her, and she slid inside onto the buttery seat.

“Nice,” she said, looking around.

“Thanks. It does the job,” he returned politely, buckling up and waiting for her to do the same.

“So I’m sorry I went poking my nose around in your business,” she said as he started the car and the engine purred.

“No big deal,” he said. “Just don’t bring it up again. I’m touchy about it.” His half smile said he was joking, but she wasn’t sure.

“Okay,” she said. “Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Really?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as they stopped at a stop sign just out of the garage. “So you didn’t judge me at all when you found out, thinking I was just born with a silver spoon up my ass?”

“You were born with a silver spoon up your ass,” she said. “It just happens to be a very nice ass.”

He raised a thick, dark-blond eyebrow at her and then grinned. “Thanks. Glad you noticed.”

“Hard not to. You’re huge.”

He flexed his arm and palmed the wheel with his other hand. “Works great in the bodyguard business.”

“So you like being the muscle? Being basically a bullet shield?”

“Being useful,” he corrected her. “I like being useful. I was raised to think I was better than anyone around me, and I hated it. I like to think it’s a little bit of economic justice, me putting my life on the line for others.”

“People who can afford it,” she said, not liking how much she admired him for what he’d said.

“Not when I was in the army,” he said. “It’s not a money thing to me. If someone comes in and they can’t pay, or I hear about a friend of a friend in trouble, I’ll help out. I don’t discriminate.” He gave her a knowing, teasing look. “Not even with sassy, nosy hackers.”

“Meh,” she said. “You’re too good to be true.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “I just don’t trust you yet.”

He shrugged. “Your prerogative.”

She pulled out her phone to check messages, and he turned on the radio, listening to a hard rock station as they drove. She was amused to see him bobbing his head and tapping his fingers to the music.

But only minutes later, they were pulling up to her place, and he was staring up at it slack jawed, both hands draped over the wheel as he leaned over to look at it.

“Yeah, that’s not going to work,” he said, shaking his head. He ran a hand through his blond hair and leaned back. “I know you aren’t going to like this, but you’re going to have to come to my place.”

She looked at the brown brick four-plex. Hers was the top right apartment. They were old but pretty nice inside. No cockroaches. It was in an older part of the small town where she lived, but the landlord did a good job keeping them up. And the rent wasn’t too high.

Besides, she’d rather spend her money on computer stuff than fancy living quarters.

“What, not fancy enough for you, highness?” she asked, feeling slightly defensive of the way he was scowling at her house.

“It’s not that,” he said. “Though, now I worry if I take you to my place, you’re just going to scoff at it.”

“Maybe,” she said. “Depends if it’s fancy and snobby pants like you.”

“I’m not a snobby pants,” he said quietly. “Whatever that is. Anyway, the issue here is I would need to install a lot of security equipment to feel like we were safe here, and you’d need landlord permission, and even if he or she gives it, it’s gonna take time and cause some damage.”

She sighed. “I didn’t think of that. Why didn’t we just go to your house in the first place, then?”

“I assumed you would be more comfortable, seeing as you seem to think I’m some kind of predator waiting to jump you.”

He had it all wrong. She feared
she
was the predator waiting to jump
him
. She needed
him
to be the strong one.

She needed to not beg.

The problem was, as he helped her go inside and gather her things, she was already starting to want to.

“
I
s that everything you need
?” Bronson asked when she appeared at the front door with her duffle packed and a backpack slung over her back.

“Yup, for now. I may think of something later,” she said, walking past him and sending a longing glance at her computer setup. “Gonna miss it, though.”

“Hopefully we’ll figure it out soon,” he said, taking her bags from her and not allowing any protest about it. “If they turn up again, I’ll go after them.”

She felt that pesky flush moving up her cheeks again. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he said, looking slightly affected as well but moving out of the way so they could go down the stairs and back to his car.

“So where’s your home?” she asked.

“Back in the direction of the business,” he said. “I like living close by.”

“Ah.”

“So tell me about you,” he prompted, trying to cut through the awkwardness.

“Not much to say,” she said.

“You mean not much you want to say,” he replied.

“Yeah, same thing,” she said.

He let out a chuckle and turned up the radio again, leaving her to her own thoughts.

They turned down several streets and passed numerous swathes of forests interspersed with old buildings. It was just starting to turn to evening, and the light was bright as it flared between the trees.

They turned onto a road that led down a cul de sac and followed it to the end of the road, where there was a house with a forest behind it.

The house was fairly new, built within the past couple years. It was light gray with interesting stonework. Several stories, traditional-looking with some modern touches. The yard was nicely landscaped.

It was the classic picket fence situation, with some upgrades. It was also huge. At least by her standards.

She gaped at it as he turned off the car and pulled her stuff out of the back. “This is your house? It’s nice.”

“And here comes the teasing,” he said, opening her door for her and leading the way up the front walk.

“No. It’s not what I expected,” she said. “It’s… nice.”

“So you said.” He offered her a wry smile. “I’m glad you think so. If you’re going to be imprisoned, you might as well be comfortable.”

“Please,” she said, standing on the porch as he undid the lock and opened the door. “I’m not imprisoned.”

“You’ve been acting like it,” he said, turning on the lights and disarming the alarm. When the door was closed, he set it again.

“I’m sorry,” she said, taking her backpack from him. “I’m really independent. Some people might see it as a flaw, but it’s just how I’ve survived.”

She looked around her. The floors were hardwood, but the stairs were carpeted down the center with a plush, cream runner.

The furnishings were simple but high end. A small dining room and then a kitchen down the hall. The living room had a large TV mounted over a huge custom fireplace with rocks around it.

There was carpet in that room, too. Everything was taken care of, from the drapes in a silvery blue to the couches in light gray.

Despite the coolness of the colors, it felt light, homey.

“Really not what I expected,” she said, eyeing the man in the suit who was now a bigger mystery than before.

He gave her a half smile, flashing an adorable dimple. He had a great jaw, straight and masculine so you just wanted to run your finger along it. “What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. Mahogany furniture and a smoky study? Super masculine?”

He laughed and led the way into the kitchen, setting her stuff on a stool that stuck out from the island. “Well, I plan to have a mate here someday. I tried to pick something that would impress her. After all, with this mug, it’s going to take some persuasion to get her to say yes.”

Suddenly, she saw it. A vision of what it would be like, life with this handsome man in this perfect, beautiful house. It was hard to breathe it seemed so perfect.

But she’d had the picket fence dream. Before her dad left. After that, everything had just felt that much bleaker.

“Well, she’ll be a lucky woman,” she said, only half meaning it. She envied the potential woman for being able to actually hope for something good like that, not for the life she would have.

But Regan liked her life as it was. She really did.

She sat on one of the stools and looked at the beautiful view from the kitchen windows. Deep-green forest and land all around.

“Beautiful,” she said. And then her stomach let out a loud growl.

Bronson laughed and opened the fridge. “I’ll make something.”

“You can cook, too?” she asked. “Damn, why have I been wasting my time teasing you when I could have had you cooking for me?”

“You don’t cook?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I’m a chronic takeout lover. Cooking isn’t my thing.”

“What about all this?” he asked, pointing to the house. “You looking to have a mate someday?”

There was an extra question in his beautiful sky-blue eyes, something she couldn’t make out. Or wasn’t sure if it was really there.

“No,” she said offhandedly. “Never. Not for me.”

His eyebrows rose as he pulled something out of the fridge and pulled back plastic wrap. He dished some of whatever it was onto two plates and stuck the first in the microwave.

A meaty, deliciously rich smell hit her nose. “What is that?”

“Lasagna,” he said. “Made it yesterday.”

“Oh, that smells amazing,” she said as he passed a plate and fork to her.

He waited for a moment, as if to see her reaction.

“Oh, that’s so good,” she said, letting the cheeses melt over her tongue. “Maybe I’ll end up begging after all.”

He stood up a little taller, broad shoulders spreading as he looked down at her. Then he shook his head and prepared his plate. When it was done, he sat on a stool next to her, looking way too big for it.

“You okay there?” she asked. “We can move to the table.”

“Nah, I like these,” he said, turning on his slightly. “Spinny.”

She laughed. “I guess I misunderstood you a bit, didn’t I?”

“The player thing?” He chewed his food. “I’m used to it. With this bod…”

She laughed. “Are you, though?”

“What?” he asked.

“A player.”

He shook his head. “I don’t have time, honestly.”

“So you would if you could?”

He grinned wryly. “I didn’t say that.”

“It was implied.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” he said. “I want the picket fence. The little mate. The house. The whole shebang.”