Her Bear and a Baby: BBW Bear Shifter Baby Paranormal Romance (Who's the Daddy? Book 2) Read online

  She had no doubt been told he was the best, and once he had been. Now… Well, he wasn’t sure what he was now. Maybe he was going to find out. And that scared the hell out of him.

  Chapter Three – Elise

  “Well, Connor, let’s hope I’m doing the right thing,” she said. She hadn’t moved from where Beau had left her, not wanting to drop Connor. She needed time to make sure her knees weren’t going to go weak before she walked anywhere.

  Connor gurgled at her. She realized it was time he had a feed, and had his diaper changed. The journey had taken them three hours, and was the last leg in their cross-country quest to find the perfect person to help them. She smiled to herself.

  Beau was all kinds of perfect. Her bear roared in agreement, but Elise had no choice but to shut those tempting thoughts down. Connor first. His health and well-being were of paramount importance; she had sworn to put her life on hold until she had made contact with his father. That niggling doubt surfaced once more. What was the right thing to do?

  Her sister had made her promise to find Gable. She never specified what she expected Elise to do when she did. Elise needed to reconcile those thoughts pretty quickly. By coming here, she had set things in motion, and Beau would start the investigation soon. In only a few hours she might have the answers she was looking for; she would have stirred up things that might be best left alone.

  In the space of the next day or two, there was a chance she would come face to face with Gable O’Donnell, with eyes as dark as the abyss. What happened then, she didn’t know. Would it depend on what kind of man he was? Had she misjudged him when it came to him abandoning Eleanor? Maybe he had a good reason for disappearing. Or maybe he didn’t.

  She wished she had someone to talk things over with. But she had no close confidantes any more. When her sister finally made contact after being away so long, Elise had rushed to her side. Only to find her sick, with a young baby in her arms. Elise had left her old life behind to go and nurse her and look after Connor. It had consumed all of her time, so she had never made friends with anyone in the faceless city where her sister lived. The only people Elise knew on first-name terms were the nurses who worked on the ward her sister had been on, as she slipped from this life to the next.

  A lump rose in Elise’s throat. She had to forget about that now. Focus on the future, not the past.

  “Let’s go and get our bags, shall we?” she asked Connor.

  She left Beau’s office, which, she guessed, used to be a dining room; the clue was a large, solid oak dining table, pushed back against the far wall to make room for his desk. The same desk that was surprisingly empty for a PI. She had expected it to be overflowing with pieces of paper, scribbled notes of his current cases. Instead it was neat and tidy. Maybe too tidy.

  Not for a man who has retired, her bear reminded her.

  True, she answered. It was becoming clearer, that for whatever reason, Beau had stopped taking on cases. Yet he was powerless to refuse his mate. A prickle of guilt crept up her back. He must have had good reasons for retiring, and she ought to respect those reasons and let him live in peace.

  Her assumption was confirmed when she noted his fingerprints in a thin layer of dust which had settled across his desk. Now, she began to wonder if he was the man he had been built up to be by the other investigator she had spoken to, or if he had lost his touch.

  Was Beau still the best in the business? Was he the man she needed him to be? She had told him she didn’t need a man, but the ache in her chest told him she did. Or one specific man, at least. She ought to come clean and tell him the truth. Yet she was scared.

  Scared of being the woman alone with a baby, knowing she was going to die and never see her beautiful child grow up. Eleanor had wept so many tears over life’s cruel twist.

  Wiping away her own tears, Elise left the room, her resolve firm once again.

  As she walked along the hallway, retracing the steps she had taken to get to Beau’s office, she took her time to take in the rest of the house. It wasn’t exactly stuck in a time warp, but there was a feeling that the house was holding its breath. That time stood still.

  It was clean, and the wallpaper wasn’t faded; there was no sense of Miss Havisham here. And yet there was. On the coat stand hung a coat belonging to a woman. Shoes were neatly tucked under it. Blue, with four-inch heels and a cut-out pattern to reveal the wearer’s toes. Again with a layer of dust on them, unused for some time. She shook off her suspicions that something wasn’t right here. For all she knew he might have a woman living here. A live-in lover, a woman to warm his bed while he waited for his mate to appear.

  While he waited for his mate to appear.

  That hurt. A stab of jealousy in her heart. Wouldn’t that make things so much easier? If he already had a woman, he wouldn’t be so cut up about her denying him as her mate.

  How was she supposed to sleep under his roof, when he was lying in bed, only feet away from her, with another woman in his arms?

  A hotel was the best idea. She had to go and find him and tell him she had changed her mind about staying here.

  Turning away from the front door, she walked purposefully towards the staircase, her eyes lifting to the landing and wondering if Mrs. Beau was up there. Only one way to find out.

  Each step was deliberate. She wasn’t trying to hide the fact that she was coming, in fact she made more noise than she had to, to ensure he knew. The last thing she wanted to do was walk into a room and find the two of them having sex. Not just because she didn’t want Connor to see, but because it would tear her heart in two.

  Reaching the top of the stairs, she was confronted by pictures of a pretty woman, wearing four-inch blue heels, and a dress that fitted her like a glove, surrounded by three young men. One of whom was Beau. She stepped forward and took a closer look. They all had similar features, making them obvious relations. Maybe even siblings. That was it, the shoes belonged to his sister, she tried to convince herself.

  They looked so happy, and the lump in her throat returned, to remind her of the sibling she had lost.

  Tearing herself away, and trying to blink away the mist of tears that crossed her eyes, she headed down the left-hand hallway, to where she could hear movement. Steeling herself, trying to tell herself that if he was in there with another woman she would cope with it, she opened the door, reminding herself only after it was too late that she should have knocked.

  “Everything OK?” he asked. He was leaning over the bed, tucking a blanket in.

  “Yes. Perfect.” She let her eyes sweep around the room. Clean, neat, no personal objects at all. “I just wanted to let you know I was going out to the car to get my things.”

  “Want a hand?” he asked.

  “No. I can manage,” she said evenly, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of him standing by the bed. If Connor wasn’t in her arms she would have thrown herself at him. But as was becoming her natural defense now, Connor’s weight acted like armor.

  “You have a baby in your arms. It would be much easier to let someone help you.”

  “Do you have a wife?” she blurted out.

  He took a sharp breath, and he almost stepped back away from her. “A wife? Why would you ask that?” He sounded bemused.

  “Or a girlfriend?” she asked.

  He smiled. “No. Why, were you wanting extra services?” he asked, a wicked grin on his face. Was that how he expected to get his mate into his bed, by offering himself as an extra? She blushed furiously, and realized she had somehow phrased the question all wrong.

  “No, of course not,” she snorted. “I was only asking because I wondered if it was all right, me staying here. You didn’t have to check with your wife, or girlfriend.”

  “No. It’s just me here. My brothers are off traveling the world somewhere.”

  “Oh. Only there was a woman’s coat and shoes by the front door, and so I figured…” She saw the pain dart across his face. He was not quick enough to cover i
t up and she wanted to reach out and comfort him. It seemed she was the one doing the stabbing now, but she had no idea why. Elise was his mate; she knew that. So whom had he lost, who was close enough to cause such pain?

  “They belong to my sister.” He frowned. “Belonged. Belonged to my sister,” he corrected himself.

  “Oh.” She noted his apologetic look, and her heart squeezed in understanding, a recognition of another wounded soul. “I’m sorry for your loss.” He didn’t need to explain, her own loss was so near, so keen, she often had trouble thinking of Eleanor in the past tense, and could not speak of her as being in the past at all.

  He nodded. “I’ll help you with those bags.”

  Head bowed, he walked past her, and she hated herself. Hated herself for not reaching out to him, for not comforting her mate. As his footsteps faded away on the stairs, she went to the freshly made bed and sat down, placing Connor on her lap, his head resting on her chest. That familiar baby smell, so subtle yet unmistakable, washed over her.

  What was she supposed to do?

  If she gave into her desire for Beau, she might never be able to persuade him to help her find Gable. Alternatively, if he knew Connor wasn’t her child, he might insist they find Gable and hand him over, not caring if it was the right thing to do.

  Even before she met Beau, it had not been simple: she had no clear-cut choices. Now it was worse, like a muddied stream bed after her bear had rolled in it.

  What am I supposed to do? Even her bear had no answer.

  Chapter Four – Beau

  He hadn’t spoken to anyone about his loss for months. Wait. He hadn’t really spoken to anyone about anything for months, except for Lucy at the grocery store. And she knew better than to ask him about his sister.

  Opening the front door and going outside, the cool breeze hit him and the mountain beckoned. He had been living the life of a hermit. A trip to the store once every couple of weeks to stock up on coffee was about it. He had come to prefer the solitude of the mountain, shifting each evening to wander the green slopes, reliving the times he had played there when he was young and carefree.

  That had to end. His sister always believed in fate, and fate had brought Elise to his door, with a baby, and now it was his job to help her. And to somehow find the man he used to be. Or become the man Elise needed him to be.

  He had wallowed in self-pity for far too long. Elise was a chance to awaken the human part of himself once more. By dwelling on all that was wrong with people, he had forgotten about all the people who had helped him, and all the people whom he had helped. The gratitude from old Mrs. Henry, who lived over in Tawny Valley, when he found her cat. Yes, the life of a PI often involved the small, personal touches, which he never charged for.

  “Keys,” he said to himself as he reached her car and found it locked. He turned back towards the house, to see her standing, framed in the doorway, and his heart lurched. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. His soul called out for her, to be next to her, to never let her out of his sight.

  “You might need these.” She held her keys up. He went back towards her and she smiled. “You’re right, I would have struggled with the bag and the baby. I’m used to doing things on my own.”

  “Well, maybe it’s time you got used to having me around,” he quipped, his mood lighter.

  “Who knows,” she said wistfully. Then something in her snapped, and a barrier went up between them.

  Elise Arnold was hiding something from him, and he needed to know what it was.

  “Thanks,” he said as he took the keys from her, letting his thumb brush against her fingers ever so lightly. She jumped, as if he had shocked her, but he acted as if nothing had ever happened. Turning away from her, he walked back to the car. “Trunk?”

  “Yes,” she answered, her voice breathy, confirming his suspicions that she was like him in so many ways. She was a shifter. He was certain of it. Maybe if he hadn’t been so blown away from having his mate right there in front of him, he would have sensed it sooner.

  She covered it so well, he had figured she was human, unaware of the mating bond. But not anymore. He could wait for her to tell him the truth. He knew when to press for information and when to let a person unburden themselves in their own time. He could wait. It would be hard. But he could wait.

  Opening the trunk, he took out her bags. One large one, which he guessed by the blue teddy bears was full to bursting with Conner’s stuff, and a smaller one, which was a lot lighter, and a plain, uniform blue. Maybe the flowery blankets might have been a little much!

  So much of Elise was a mystery to him, but he knew he was going to have to play things cool if he didn’t want to frighten her off. More so than before, his new insight into her dual nature told him he had to help her find this man Gable. Only then would all the pieces fit into place.

  The biggest part of which was why she allowed herself to be sucked in by a man. A man who told her she was his mate. Had she been truly in love with him, like humans fall in love at first sight, and mistaken that for the mating bond? Beau had never experienced those kind of emotions before. Yes, he had dated, but never had he fallen for a human woman, not when he knew they had no future together. Not that he didn’t like sex. One night stands had become his thing, any woman he fancied, if she was unattached, would somehow wind up in his bed. That was his past too, even sex hadn’t been able to distract him from his loss.

  Maybe Gable convinced Elise of things that weren’t true? Told her she was a defective shifter for not sensing the mating bond? There had to be some reason Elise said Gable was her mate, when clearly he wasn’t. That role belonged to Beau, and he intended to make sure Elise accepted it.

  He walked back towards her, only she had gone from the doorway; she was somewhere inside his house. Part of him, the part that was primal, wanted to take over, and claim her as his own, make her forget this hunt for the man who wasn’t her true mate. Beau fought that urge down. This wasn’t the time to be heavy handed, this was the time to get to know her, to win her trust and then see where their futures led.

  Shouldering the door closed, he went into the kitchen, and placed the bags on the table. Elise was pouring coffee, baby slung on one hip. As Connor turned to look at him, he studied the small boy’s features, taking in the full lips with a cupid’s bow, the same blue eyes, wide and clear, and the dark auburn hair that mirrored Elise’s. There was no doubt these two were of the same blood.

  Which left him in no doubt that he had to accept raising another man’s child as his own.

  “Milk and sugar?” she asked, the spoon shaking slightly as she held it in her hand.

  “Milk. No sugar. Thanks,” he said as she handed him a cup. “Why don’t we go into the sitting room? This young man can have a crawl around on the floor.”

  “OK.” She looked pale and drawn, as if the fight had gone out of her. The strength needed to deny him was immense. It would be so easy for him to break down her resolve. Yet he wouldn’t; he didn’t want to break her in any way. He wanted to conquer her, but without force.

  “Here, let me take him.” Beau held out his arms, and she hesitated, but the baby reached for him and slid into his arms.

  “I’ll warm a bottle if that’s OK?” she asked, stepping towards the kitchen table but making sure to give him a wide berth.

  “Sure. Come on, Connor, let’s go play.” Beau was no expert; none of his brothers had found their mates, so he wasn’t even an uncle, but he guessed the baby must have been about eight months old. He wriggled in Beau’s arms, turning to look over his shoulder as they left Elise behind.

  The little boy’s face began to crumple. A hiccup escaped him and his eyes became watery. Damn it. He was about to cry. Not a great start to their relationship.

  “Hey there,” Beau said soothingly, his thick fingers stroking the little boy’s tummy and then tickling him lightly. “We can give your mom a minute to get your bottle ready, can’t we?”

  Connor’s eyes
swiveled to stare at Beau. Really stare, as if he was looking into the bear shifter’s soul. Beau was reminded of Elise’s words again, like staring into the abyss. A shiver passed through him, but then Connor broke out into a smile, and to Beau, if he had to describe this baby’s eyes in any way, it would be like looking into a pool of warm, welcoming water, as blue as an early spring morning.

  “I guess you inherited your mom’s looks.” His thoughts turned to the man he was supposed to be helping to find. He would do his best, as he always did. Beau only hoped that this investigation didn’t turn out as terrible as his last one.

  Chapter Five – Elise

  Elise found her way around the large kitchen, opening cupboards, at first a little self-consciously, as if she were prying, but then she began to feel at home. The kitchen, like the rest of the house seemed to have been put in mothballs; most of the utensils looked hardly used, the cupboards only holding the barest minimum of staple foods. At last she found what she was looking for, a measuring jug, and began the task of making a small batch of baby bottles, enough to at least see Connor through the night and into the morning.

  All the time she realized just how hungry she was herself. Would it be imposing to ask Beau if she could rustle something up out of the cans of beans and rice? Together with the butter and cheese in the fridge, she could make something edible, and with the addition of some of the herbs she had smelt in the garden, it would be tasty.

  Taking Connor’s freshly made bottle, she left the kitchen and stood for a moment in the hallway, realizing she had no idea of the layout of the house, other than where his office was. She looked left and right, and then she heard Connor giggle. Left. She walked towards the sound of a happy baby.

  The soft light of a lamp spilled out of the doorway, along with the sound of Beau talking and Connor making gentle cooing noises. She could picture the scene: Connor would be on his hands and knees, practicing his crawling, which meant he was rocking backwards and forward, trying to figure out how to coordinate his limbs, while Beau looked on.