Desired by the Bear - Book 1: BBW Werebear Shifter Romance Page 4

  A knock on my door makes me jump. My potion kitchen is located in the back of my house, and the door leads to my overgrown herb gardens. Marcel’s early. When I pull on the door I discover it’s stuck and have to tug harder. I stumble back a step when it finally gives way.

  A devilishly handsome man with a twinkle in his eye gazes down at me. His brown hair swoops over his forehead in a sexy way that makes me want to meow like a cat, and I’m tempted to rub up against his hulking frame so he’ll pet me. I say, “You’re early.”

  He steps into my kitchen and rubs his hand over the top of my door. “I can fix this in a minute for you if you want.”

  “Oh.” Heat rushes to my cheeks as the tantalizing scent of pure male wafts toward me. “I’m--” Get a hold of yourself, Tallulah. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

  “I have tools in my truck,” he says. “I’ll be right back.” Marcel leaves me, and I sigh as I watch his perfectly formed butt flex with his stride. One of the perks and flaws of working with a werebear clan is the men are so sexy. Especially the one who taunts me each week. You’d think I’d be over it by now, because I’ve known Marcel for almost a decade. I was clearly born in the wrong species.

  I shut the door when the icy breeze makes me shiver. The storm is over, but the cold wind hasn’t died down. When Marcel returns he says, “I brought some oil too. These hinges are rusted. Did you know that?”

  “No. I never noticed.” I busy myself with cleaning up instead of gawking at his flexing muscles as he works. A cabinet clicks when I shut it while Marcel scrapes a tool over the top of my door. He says, “Tally, we need to find you a man.” I glance at him, and he winks at me. “A tall one, so he can take care of these things for you.”

  I put my hands on my hips as I say, “Don’t you start with me. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

  The door snicks softly when Marcel shuts it, and he turns to me. “Then I guess I’ll just have to keep my eye on you.”

  “You do that.” I wave him away for his teasing as my cheeks heat up. “But I thought you’re here because you want to find a woman to tame you.” Items in a drawer rattle as I search for my tarot cards.

  “Tame me? Naw.” He waggles his eyebrows. “I want one who’s just as wild.”

  My chair scrapes on the tile as I pull it out and say, “Sit. And let’s see if you’re any closer to finding your dream girl.”

  Marcel thuds into his chair and reaches over to stop my hands as I shuffle the cards. His warmth is intense as he says, “I’m serious about you needing a man, Tally.” A shiver runs down my spine at his tone. He’s not teasing me now. “Dangerous people are around, and I’m worried about you.”

  I recall when Marcel and I first met. I had just started out, and he’d come to me about strange dreams. Now I understand he’s a seer, so I say, “You’re not here to find your true mate, are you?” He shakes his head as he squeezes my fingers. His expression is serious. And I say, “You’ve had visions.”

  “I’m not sure what they mean,” says Marcel as he releases me. “But I think you’re going to be in danger.”

  The chill I felt before is now ice in my veins. I know when to listen, and I’m hearing Marcel loud and clear. “Thank you.” The tarot cards in my hands are soft with age, and I begin to shuffle again.

  Marcel asks, “Did you hear me?”

  I’m not sure what to do about his news. “I did, and I’ll take it into consideration.”

  “Tally.” Marcel’s voice is firm, and I glance up at him in surprise. “You need to talk to Jean Luc about protection. Or I will.”

  “I will. I’m going to Izzy after I’m finished with you.” He relaxes a bit, and I have a strong urge to offer him comfort. Part of my role as the clan medicine woman is to set things right, so I slap my deck of cards down on the table and say, “Let’s see if we can figure out where the love of your life is hiding.”

  8

  Kelsey

  The sun peeks out from the storm clouds passing by, and plastic is cool on my nose as I put on my sunglasses. I’m scheduled to meet with Jean Luc Ouellette at three. He’s going to give me a tour of the Ouellette Yachts facility and then show me to my apartment. My phone GPS system announces my upcoming turn, and my stomach flips with nerves. First impressions are important, and I want to make sure Jean Luc is glad he chose me. I locate the visitor parking by the main entrance and pull into a spot. The cover on my visor mirror snaps as I lift it to inspect my teeth and make sure I don’t have anything in them before I meet my new boss. Sunlight is streaming through my sunroof now, and my hair glows bright red in my reflection. I’m reminded of the boy I met at the gas station, and the strange feeling I’ve been here before returns.

  My teeth are smooth under my tongue as I run it over them, and I flash a big smile at myself. I think my senses are telling me that being here is right. While I’ve never been one to have intuition, I don’t discount the possibility that such gifts exist. I fluff up my hair and take a deep breath. Grabbing my purse, I climb out of my vehicle, and the security system beeps as I hit lock.

  I throw my shoulders back and find my inner strength so I come across as polished and competent. I notice a woman walking toward me. She’s unusually tall, and when the wind blows her hair I notice it is so blond the sun makes it look almost transparent. She smiles at me as we pass, and I almost turn around to watch her, because she’s stunningly gorgeous.

  A clear glass door is ahead with Ouellette Yachts’ logo painted on it. I tug it open to go inside. Industrial carpet muffles my footsteps as I approach a shiny teak counter that mimics the features of the company’s classic boats. A woman with chestnut-red hair sits behind it, and she stands when she see me. Either I’m hyper-aware of red hair today, or a lot of Canadians have it. She says, “I bet you’re Kelsey.”

  “I am.”

  “Wonderful.” The woman comes out from behind her desk and extends her hand. “I’m Meg.” After we shake she retrieves a manila folder and a pen, and she says, “Come with me. You need to fill out your paperwork.”

  Meg takes me down the hall to what looks like a break room. She leaves me with instructions to bring the folder to her when I’m done, and I sit in a functional plastic chair at a round table. My pen scratches as I fill out the necessary forms. The soft thud of footsteps makes me aware someone has entered the room, and I lift my gaze to a man who is huge. He’s facing away from me, and the coffee maker gurgles as he clicks the lever to prepare to make a cup. I take a moment to ogle his broad shoulders and fine backside. Wow.

  He turns to me, and I quickly look down at my paperwork. He asks, “New here?”

  I glance up as if he distracted me, and I pull it off beautifully, because the front side of this guy is even more breathtaking. His auburn hair is thick, and his eyes are a dazzling shade of blue. It takes me a moment to answer, “Yes. First day.”

  “I’m Val.” He tilts his head to the right as if indicating where his building is and says, “I work in sails.” The twinkle in his eye makes me grin, and I think he means the actual pieces of fabric.

  “I’m Kelsey. Intern. I’ll probably be your errand girl at some point.”

  His smile broadens. “I hope so.”

  Me too. A flush heats up my face, and I lower my head to my work as my grin threatens to crack my cheeks. Val leaves once his coffee is ready, and when I’m finished with my forms I make my way back to Meg. She’s on the phone and holds up a finger while she listens to someone speak.

  She says, “Kelsey is here when you’re ready.” My heart skips a beat, because she must be talking to Jean Luc. Meg says, “I’ll send her right over.”

  The phone clatters as she sets it in the cradle and says to me, “You’re going to walk back out the front door and turn left. Go past the first building, and it’s the next one.”

  “Got it.”

  Meg says, “Jean Luc’s office is in the loft. So walk in and look up.”

  Once I’m back outside I n
otice the wind has died down. The air is still crisp with a chilly temperature, but the sun’s rays are warm as I make my way over to meet Jean Luc. I enter into the familiar noises of the world I love. Scaffolding is set up around the bare bones of a hull, and the sound of a saw hums as I walk by it. I stop for a moment to appreciate her lines.

  A man’s voice calls out, “Kelsey?”

  I turn to discover yet another tall man coming my way. Come to think of it, everyone I’ve seen here is above-average height. He speaks with a thick French accent that has a musical quality to it as he asks, “What do you think of her?”

  “She’s a beauty. I can’t wait to see the finished version.” I hold out my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ouellette.”

  I’m not a small girl, but his hand dwarfs mine anyway, and I notice it’s unusually warm. He says, “Call me Jean Luc.”

  I try to mimic his pronunciation. “Jean Luc.”

  He nods as if I passed his test. “Come. We’ll start where it all began.”

  Jean Luc takes me to the original building the business started in and explains how Ouellette Yachts began with his grandfather. He then walks me through every structure until we end up at the dock. Our feet thud down the plank toward the end, and we gaze out at the ocean. He says, “We have moorings out there, and soon this cove will be full of Ouellette Yachts.

  I ask, “What’s your boat like? I bet she’s special.”

  Jean Luc smiles down at me. “She is. No boat has ever taken longer to build.” He chuckles. “My father made me do it on my own time, and while I had help when I needed it, I can say that my hands touched every piece of her.”

  “I read you claim your hands work on every boat that leaves Ouellette Yachts. I find it fascinating.”

  Wind blows his hair, and the sunlight makes it the color of fire as he says, “I think it’s important I never forget the artistry and craftsmanship that goes into what we do. Every man and woman I hire takes pride in their work and strives to be the best. When we put a new boat into the water, I want to be sure I’m not the only one with a tear in my eye.”

  I’d laugh at his statement, but his expression is serious, and I realize he’s not joking. My heart swells with warmth, because this is the kind of passion I have for boatbuilding, and I know my decision to come here was the right one.

  Jean Luc says, “C’mon. You must be freezing out here listening to an old man go on. Let’s go get some coffee, and I’ll explain what your duties will be.”

  As we walk back I say, “I love the rich tradition you have here. Did you always know you wanted to build boats?”

  “No.” He chuckles before he says, “When I was a kid I wanted to be a Mountie.”

  I grin at him and ask, “Was it the horse?”

  He shakes his head as his eyes crinkle with a smile. “It was the hat.”

  Once we both have a hot drink Jean Luc describes my internship. I’ll get a chance to work in each area of the production, and when he talks about the sails I’m thrilled to hear Val is in charge of that department. While sewing is not high on my list of things I like to do, I have a feeling I can muddle through it with a smile.

  “Do you have any questions?” asks Jean Luc.

  “Not right now, but I’m sure once I realize what I don’t know I will.”

  “There isn’t one person here who won’t be happy to answer them. So what do you think? Are you glad you came?”

  I nod. “Very glad.” I gaze at the man before me with eyes and hair like mine and think about how many people I’ve seen today that are similar. Where I grew up my coloring was unique, but here I feel as if I could be related to half the members of this town. I say, “This is going to sound odd, I’m sure, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many redheads. Why is that?”

  “We Ouellettes like to produce things. There are a lot of us around. Do you have family here?”

  “No. But I’m beginning to wonder if maybe I was adopted.” I grin to cover my doubt, because it’s possible my father was an Ouellette. The sensation I know this place comes to the forefront of my mind, and I wonder if I’m here to learn about more than boats.

  9

  Tally

  “Touch my chowder, woman,” says Jean Luc, “and I’ll throw you in the drink.”

  I raise my hands and step away from the stove. The aroma of fresh-baked bread fills the air, and I say, “Someone’s sensitive. You sure you’re not the pregnant one?” I lean in with the pepper grinder to tease him. “It needs just a--”

  Jean Luc growls as if he’s mad, and he slides in front of me to block me from reaching the pot of soup.

  I chuckle and then throw out my next words as if they’re insignificant. “Marcel came to see me this afternoon.”

  “Marcel.” Izzy puts her finger on her lip and looks up at the sky as if she’s searching her memory. “Oh! Isn’t he the one who makes you giggle and get all flustered?”

  I huff in irritation. “I do not do that.”

  She chuckles. “He sure visits you a lot. I think he wants more than a friendly little chat too.”

  “Stop.” I backhand her belly and then gasp. Leaning down to Izzy’s stomach I say, “Sorry baby loves, but your momma is torturing me again.”

  Jean Luc asks, “Marcel Du Veaux?”

  I glance up at him to see his eyebrows are raised in interest. Great. One more person to tease me about my crush. I say, “It’s nothing. He comes by once a week for a tarot reading.” I glance at Izzy. “He’s trying to find his true mate.”

  She bites into a piece of Jean Luc’s homemade bread and takes a moment to appreciate it before she says, “Seems to me you’d be a nice distraction while he looks.”

  “Uh-uh,” I say. I walk over to sit next to her and hike up my hip to get on a stool. My feet clunk on the rung. “Way too many things wrong with that idea, starting with the part where he’s not interested.” Werebear do date humans from time to time since they often attend school and work at jobs in the human population. And there have been a few scandalous relationships that led to half-breed children, but it’s still not acceptable for a werebear to marry a human if they want to stay in the clan. All that is beside the point, though, because guys who look like Marcel don’t go for the short, dumpy type like me.

  Isabelle glares at me, and I point my finger at her. “You’ve got to stop reading people’s minds. It’s rude.”

  “Sorry. But Tally, men do find petite girls attractive, and I hate when you get down on yourself.”

  “Let’s just not, okay?” A knife grates on the cutting board when I saw off a piece of bread to smear butter on it. I say, “I brought up Marcel because of something else.” I glance at Jean Luc. “You’re going to want to hear this.”

  The temperature control on the stovetop clicks as he turns the heat down and comes to stand across the counter from where Izzy and I are sitting. I say, “Marcel is a seer, and he’s had visions that predict I’m going to be in danger.”

  Izzy asks, “Hunters?”

  I shrug. A few months ago a vigilante group tried to kill Isabelle and had plans to eliminate both the Ouellette clan here and the entire Northeast Kingdom of werebear in Maine. Most of the group were killed in a battle, but it wouldn’t be surprising to learn the remaining members are out for vengeance. “That would be my guess. Marcel was genuinely concerned for me.” I look at Jean Luc as I say, “As much as I hate to feel inept, I think I need your protection.”

  “Of course,” he says. “I’ll put a guard on watch to keep you safe. What else do you know?”

  “Nothing, really.” I reach for my bread, but my appetite is gone so I set it back down. “Marcel says he’s going to keep an eye on me, and if the vision returns he’ll come tell me about it.” Suddenly I feel silly for acting on a feeling, and I say, “You know what. It’s probably nothing.” I lift my food and take a big bite. Butter flavor coats my tongue, but it doesn’t provide the usual pleasure.

  “It’s not nothing,” says
Jean Luc. “It makes sense they’d go after the clan’s medicine woman. Especially one as powerful as you, Tally. Didn’t you take down the Veilleux clan’s medicine man last month?”

  I shudder when I recall the incident with Tokala. There’s a dark cloud around that guy, and I’d bet good money that he’s into black magic. What started off as a friendly competition at a witch get-together got ugly when I blocked one of his spells to win. Apparently he doesn’t take kindly to losing. “Yeah. I won’t be making that mistake again.”

  “Maybe he’s your danger,” says Izzy.

  I shake my head. “He may be a touch evil, but he’s not stupid. If he came after me there’s an entire community who would make sure he paid dearly for it. Besides, I can’t imagine he’d hold a grudge over a simple spell competition.”

  Jean Luc says, “I’ve got two men to watch you round the clock.” He reaches for my hand, and I let him take it. “You are too valuable to us to not be careful. And I’m talking about far more than your place in our clan.”

  Izzy puts her arm around my shoulders and squeezes me tight. “He’s right. I’m not sure what I’d do without you in my life, Tally.”

  I gaze at my friend as my eyes get watery. “Careful, you’re going to make me cry.” I sniff and ask, “Is that chowder ready yet?”

  “It better be,” says Grace.

  I turn to Jean Luc’s mother walking in through the mudroom. She removes her coat as she says, “Tally, I’m so glad you’re here. I have something for you.” Her cheeks are rosy from the wind, and she holds something in her hand as she approaches me. She leans across the counter to open up her palm and reveal a piece of red sea glass.

  It’s smooth in my fingers as I take it. “Oh my gosh.” I hold it up to the light and notice it glows. “It’s beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this color.”