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  “Me and my mom are the ones putting the place back together. It was my brother who ran it into the ground and left us penniless. Can you imagine? The farm has been in my family for generations and in two short years he’s ruined it.” She began lifting the wooden planks and stacking them neatly in a pile, her anger giving her strength.

  “That must be tough. Especially for your mom, when she’s lived here for so long.” He took two for every one of her planks, flexing his muscles and feeling good about doing manual labor for a change. Lately, his job had become more pencil pusher than manual worker.

  “She hides it well. Her disappointment rests firmly with my brother. I think parents always blame themselves for how their kids turned out. She could sell the farm, find a job with room and board at one of the other farms, or she could move in with me. But the city is no place for a bear shifter who’s used to living out here.” She paused for a moment, and turned to look around her, taking in the Bluff, as it stood, timeless, watching over the town, as it always had. Then she gazed at the rest of the mountain range that encircled them.

  “Bears’ paradise,” he said, looking at the same view, with the same appreciation of one who had spent far too long away from their home. “Why did you leave?”

  She kept unloading the planks, and he wondered if she was going to answer, but he gave her the time she needed. He wasn’t going anywhere.

  Chapter Five – Steph

  Why had she left? So much was caught up in that one simple question.

  “At first I left because I wanted to go to college and get an education. As I’d grown up, I began to notice how my dad treated my mom. How, to him, she was somehow lesser. I guess you’d call him a male chauvinist, or just plain old-fashioned.”

  “I have come across enough of those,” Dylan said. “But I’m not one myself.”

  “If you were, you would be living without your mate for the rest of your life,” she assured him. “I’ve had enough of it. I hate that my mom put up with it. But I think it was how her father treated her mom, so she kind of finds it acceptable. I’m just glad that if nothing else, she guided me into being an independent woman.”

  “So you went to college, but still, you never came back?” he asked. They were halfway through unloading the wood.

  “I’d come back when I could. At college, I had a job in a sandwich shop, so I couldn’t come back as often as I’d have liked. But I tried.”

  “And when you finished college?” Dylan asked, watching her face, as she thought about what she was going to tell him. What light she was going to shine on her personality, so that he could learn a little more about her, and which parts she wanted to leave completely in the dark.

  “I came back for the summer after I left college. My mom could see I wasn’t happy with how things were. While I was away, my brother had become like my dad, expecting her to clean and cook and do farm chores. Sometimes she’d work twelve-hour days, while he did less and less. He would sit around drinking beer, as if he was a lord or something.”

  “Ah, so you created tension,” he said, nodding.

  “Tension. I guess.” She looked across at him. “What are you, a shrink?”

  “Nothing like that, but I’ve dealt with a large enough workforce to know how to read people.”

  “Large workforce. I’m intrigued.”

  “I was in construction, there were a lot of different tradespeople on the building site. And it was my job to make sure everyone worked together. Sometimes that meant massaging egos.” He shrugged it off. “And you are changing the subject.”

  She sighed, dropping her voice as she looked around. Steph didn’t want her mom to hear her talking about her. “My mom came into my room one night while they were watching the football game. She sat on my bed and told me I should go back to the city, and get myself a good job.”

  “And you did?”

  Steph nodded. “Yes. And at first I was upset, I didn’t come home for weeks. Then one day she phoned me, and we were chatting, and she asked when I was coming home, and I told her I thought she didn’t want me there, because I caused trouble.” Steph paused, suddenly drained, and unable to lift another piece of wood. “She cried, and told me that wasn’t the reason. She said she needed for me to be something else, to be the one who went out and had a life, one where I wasn’t answerable to men.”

  “I see,” he said, lifting the last few pieces of timber and putting them on the stack.

  “You know, I asked her to come stay with me. To get away, even if it was for a week or two. But she said no.” Steph shook her head, opening her mouth to say something, and then changing her mind. It felt as though she was being disloyal if she told Dylan she thought her mom liked being the one who did everything. It was as if it gave her some kind of self-worth.

  “Sometimes you have to accept people as they are. We all have our own beliefs, our own truths.”

  “And what is your truth, Dylan Taylor?” she asked, resting her hand on the tailgate of the truck.

  “That will have to wait for another time,” he said, lifting the tailgate closed and then saying, “Right on time, Kitty.”

  Steph looked up guiltily, but Dylan put his hand over hers and winked, reassuring her that her mom wouldn’t have heard. She should know better than to speak behind her mom’s back, but it was all the truth. At least, the truth as she saw it. Maybe, now they had settled into a routine, and were learning about each other, it was time for Steph to have a conversation about the past with her mom.

  “Nice and cold. There, don’t you two work well together?” her mom asked.

  “We do. Which is why I thought I would come over tomorrow and help you replace these boards.” Dylan took a large gulp of lemonade.

  “Nope, I can manage,” Steph insisted, sure that if she spent a whole day with Dylan she would end up telling him all her darkest secrets. Secrets she wasn’t about to give up to this man, who had left under such a dark cloud years ago. How was everyone going to react to him being back in town?

  “Stephanie, sometimes you have to admit you need help, especially a man’s help,” her mom said, ignoring her daughter’s protests when she continued. “You know we need to get the repairs done quickly. The bills can’t go unpaid for long before we start getting some kind of court summons. We need to be earning some kind of income soon.”

  “It really is that bad?” Dylan asked, shocked. “This farm is one of the oldest in town; I’d hate for it to be sold to an outside developer.”

  “I know, my great, great-something-grandpa built the first small farmhouse, which has been added onto by every generation.”

  Steph thought about that, thought about how she needed help, and how there was no money left to pay for labor. If Dylan was offering, she should accept; this was not the time to be a bear with a sore head.

  “Except your father’s generation,” her mom said sadly.

  Steph stepped closer to her mom and put her arm around her shoulder, hugging her tightly. “We’ll get everything right, and then add an extension at the back for more guests. We’ll leave our mark.”

  Her mom rested her head on Steph’s shoulder. “I’m so relieved you came back, Steph. I could never have the vision you do for this place. All I see is rack and ruin.”

  “Hey, Mom, that’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it? It’s not just the house, it’s … well, all of it.” Her mom seemed to remember they weren’t alone and sniffed, stood up straight, put a smile back on her face, and said, “I’ll take these glasses back in, and let you two say your goodbyes.”

  Steph watched her mom go, unable to look at Dylan. It was all too sudden, all too raw, and she felt exposed, naked in front of him.

  “Walk me to my bike?” he asked.

  “Sure,” she smiled her gratitude to him, silently thanking him for not asking questions about her family situation.

  “What time do you want me to come over tomorrow?” he asked when they reached his bike.

  “What
ever time you want. I’m up early.” She folded her arms across her chest, not sure if he was going to kiss her or not. His eyes kept flicking down to her lips, but he didn’t lean in; instead, he lifted his helmet off his handlebars, holding it in both hands.

  “I’ll come as early as I can. I’m not sure what plans my grandpa has for me, but I’ll work around them.” He put his helmet on his head, and she pressed her lips together, denying the disappointment she felt in him not trying to kiss her. Not even a peck on the cheek.

  “Is that why you came back?” she asked, suddenly realizing that his grandpa might be sick. Something must have made Dylan decide to come back to Bear Bluff after all these years away.

  “He’s old. He used to come and visit me, but now his legs aren’t so strong, and he keeps telling me he wants to die here in Bear Bluff, not on a sidewalk in the city.”

  “Is he close to dying?” she asked, shocked that she had pushed her problems onto him, when he had big ones of his own.

  Dylan laughed and slid his thigh over his bike, making her swallow down her longing for him to be sliding his thigh over her body, while they lay together under the stars. Inappropriate, much? she chastised herself.

  “He is the strongest old bear I have ever met; he isn’t going anywhere. But the journey used to take it out of him. So I decided to come visit him for a change.” He started his engine, calling out, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He turned around in a tight circle, using his body to keep the bike perfectly balanced, and then he headed off into the distance, leaving her with a sickening feeling in her stomach.

  I decided to come and visit him for a change. Those words ran around and around her head. Dylan had not come back to stay in Bear Bluff; he had come for a visit, a vacation. That meant when he went back to his old life, she was going to have to make a choice: Summerfield B&B and her mom, or Dylan, her mate and the one who called to her heart and soul.

  Would things ever just run smoothly for her? Could life, just for once, hand her a bit of luck, a slice of happiness, without some big compromise?

  She walked slowly up to the house, her excitement at having him come help her tomorrow waning as she told herself she had to steel her heart and keep her thoughts level, and not let herself be swayed by the mating bond.

  Too late, her bear said happily.

  Chapter Six – Dylan

  Home. This was the place he had been brought up in, and even when he left over ten years ago, it was still the only place he ever thought of as home. He had dreamed of coming back here, and dreaded it. This was where the past he would never escape lived.

  Not a man to be scared of anything, nonetheless, he was. Not of what other people might say or do to him, but of the memories that lived here in his grandpa’s small cabin. Memories of a flame-haired girl, and screaming. And death. A death that had changed his life.

  Here he was, despite all of Dylan’s success, both personally and financially, feeling like the same punk kid who had been taken away under the worst possible charges: the death of seventeen-year-old Greg Franks through Dylan’s reckless behavior.

  The cabin looked the same. Dylan could be his young, teenage self, coming home from school, a list of chores waiting for him, along with a nice chocolate brownie, like only his grandpa knew how to make. At some point, Tilly Creswell, flame haired, but terribly shy, would come over to help him. Her family was poor, and Grandpa often made extra food for her to take home to her brothers and sisters. Those were good days, free days.

  If only he could turn back time, if only he could take back what had happened. But would he? Would he have acted any differently?

  No. And what was done was done. He had come to terms with it, he had done his time, and now he wanted a clean start, if the town would let him.

  “Grandpa,” he called as he switched off his engine and took off his helmet. “You there, Grandpa?”

  He walked up to the house, hesitating, not even putting a foot on the front porch steps. He didn’t want to just go in unannounced; his grandpa had a gun, and didn’t like strangers. And Dylan felt like a stranger. Not to his grandpa, but to this place. It had changed: the paint was fading around the windows, the old rocker was gone, replaced by a swing seat, and his grandpa’s favorite rose bushes were gone from the garden, replaced by something else, a plant Dylan didn’t recognize.

  A noise from inside made his attention swing back to the faded front door. At least the bear-claw knocker was still there. Dylan took another step forward, his foot poised to take the first step, to hear the familiar creak of those four steps he had ran up every day for the first fifteen years of his life. Or maybe his foot was poised ready to run.

  “There you are!” The door flew open and the smell of home baking wafted out, making Dylan’s mouth water and his eyes fill up with tears, the nostalgia hitting him so hard he nearly doubled over.

  “You made brownies?”

  “Of course I did. I’m not that old that I can’t remember my grandson’s favorite. They are still your favorite, right?” Grandpa stood there looking old and worn, and Dylan knew it had been right to come back. He would face whatever the town threw at him, and he would overcome it.

  “They sure are.” Dylan put his foot on the step. It felt as momentous as the first man on the moon, and then he took another, squeak, squeak, creak. He smiled. He was home.

  Two more strides took him across the porch and into the arms of the old man who had raised him when his parents left to go spend some time traveling the world, and never returned. Hunted and killed, that was what Dylan had been told.

  His mom and dad had supposedly spent too much time in their bear forms, and got in the way of a hunter with a big gun. Real bears knew the danger, but they weren’t real bears. Sometimes the bitterness ate away at him, how could his parents leave their child and forget about him? But now he had accepted it. Just as he had accepted a lot of things in his life.

  He grandpa felt smaller, frailer than he remembered. It had been nearly six months since the last time he had made the trip to see Dylan. In those months the broad shoulders had become bony, the toned body softer, and Dylan had to swallow down the panic caused by the realization his grandpa was old.

  This one man, who had raised him, was all Dylan had. His only family, and that stung him. His desire for Stephanie grew; it was no longer the physical attraction that appealed to him. The need to claim his mate, which was anchored to his soul, now had another facet. He wanted a family. To surround himself with young cubs, to be part of something bigger than just one man, and bigger than the construction empire he had built up from nothing over the last five years.

  What he had never told Stephanie, or even his grandpa, was that he was worth millions. That if she wanted, he could write a check for everything she needed for the farm, that he could buy his grandpa a nice comfortable house in town, where he would be close to everything he needed: the small stores, the hospital. But he didn’t want his money to corrupt the relationship he longed to nurture with either of these people.

  He suspected both of them had their pride, and Stephanie had a need to succeed on her own. It was the same hungry look he had worn for the first year of life outside of juvie when he had hustled to get a job on a construction site, despite his lack of training, education, or experience. He had worked long hours, gone the extra mile, and been rewarded with managing his first construction site. It was a small development—only four houses—but it was a start.

  All anyone ever needed was a start, and the confidence and willingness to work at it until it consumed you.

  “Come in, we don’t want the brownies to get cold. I wasn’t sure what time you were arriving,” Grandpa said.

  “I’m later than I thought,” Dylan said.

  “Run into trouble?” the old man asked, leading him through the sitting room, which had the same old sofa, although it had been restuffed, and the hearth where fires had burned hot and bright in the mountain winters.

  “Not e
xactly,” Dylan answered, earning himself a shrewd look from Grandpa.

  “But you ran into something?” he asked.

  “More of a someone,” Dylan answered.

  The old man laughed, a sound comfortingly the same as it has always been. “Oh, my boy, you might need something stronger than brownies. Here, it’s a bit early in the day, but let’s crack out the whiskey and we can sit on the porch and you can tell me all about her.”

  Chapter Seven – Steph

  She was up early the next morning. Mainly because she couldn’t sleep, an excitement had grown inside her, pushing sleep away, and leaving her hot, and well … aroused.

  Steph couldn’t remember the last time she had ached for a man. A real, deep ache, that wouldn’t give up, wouldn’t let her stop conjuring up the image of Dylan, lying naked on the bed, while she hovered over him, kissing him, touching him, while he touched her, very intimately.

  At five in the morning, she had given up any thoughts of sleep, had a cold shower, hoping she wouldn’t wake her mom, and then slipped out into the early morning mists that settled around the farm on these early fall mornings. She breathed in the crisp air, with its promise of a fine warm day, where the sun rose in the sky casting its weakening rays over the land below it. Those days told her that winter was on its way, the days shortening, the nights growing longer.

  More time for us to lie in bed with Dylan, her bear said.

  Great, now I’m back to thinking about him, Steph grumbled, and decided it was time to give herself a break and let her bear take over. Things were always simpler when you had four paws and a snout. Wild honey became your focus, and she knew exactly where to find some.

  Crossing the yard, she walked out into the upper meadow, counting the cows before entering the small belt of trees on the lower slope of the mountain. There she quickly shifted into her bear and loped to the north, heading away from the bluff. It would be quieter where she was heading, unless any other bear was set on wild honey.