Get Your Shift Together (Bear Bites Book 2)

“
D
ude
, come over here and solve a debate between my girl and me.” The shaggy-haired blond waves me over as if I’m his fucking servant. I drag my feet because the last thing I want to do is get in the middle of whatever he and his girlfriend have got going on. He’s been an asshole since the minute they stepped foot inside the Trading Store.

Ordinarily on a beautiful fall day like this one, I’d be hiking in the Superior National Forest or fishing on the Boundary Waters, but instead I’m manning my friend Cole Braxton’s supply store while he is off on some camping trip with his new girlfriend. I have serious doubts they are doing jack-all but fucking like bunnies. The two of them have been making cow eyes at each other for three years, and they just recently acted on their not-so-secret lusts.

I bet that they’re going to come back and she’ll be thick with his cubs. In fact, I have put money on that down at the Lodge. All the bear shifters got together last weekend, drank honey ale, ate some fucking amazing cookies the Lodge chef baked up, and then put down when we thought Cole and Adelaide would be popping out cubs.

Eli, our de facto leader, was sure the seed was planted on the couple’s first night, but I like to think that Adelaide fought it off until this weekend.

“What’s the dilemma?” I flash a quick smile at the surfer’s lady love. She’s a fine piece—full of curves, pretty brown hair, and doe-soft eyes. Everything I like in a woman and then some. But she’s taken, and I don’t poach. I can still look though. I give her a wink and her eyes flutter downward, too shy to flirt back. That’s good, though, because she’s with a man, I tell myself, even as I feel a tinge of disappointment.

“We’re fishing today and tomorrow, and I plan to catch the biggest-ass fish in the ocean.”

“They’re lakes,” she says quietly.

“What’d you say, Caro?” He looks as if he’s smelled something stinky.

Her eyes stay down, and her mouth stays clamped shut. Whatever she said before wasn’t meant for his ears.

“The Boundary Waters are all freshwater lakes and streams,” I answer for her. “There are no oceans up here.”

“Whatever. Tomato, tomato. Right? Water is water.”

The little brunette sighs at the dude’s mischaracterization.

“I think it’s ‘tomato tomahto’, but you’re not going to find fish up here that you’d find in the ocean, so it’s actually real different.”

The dude scowls. “Look. I just want to get kitted out. I don’t need a stupid geography lesson.”

“Yeah, okay. What do you need?”

“Everything.” The girl finally speaks up loud enough for us all to hear. “We don’t have anything. Just a tent and a couple of sleeping bags.”

“You fish before?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No. Never.”

“I’ve done plenty,” her man boasts. “But Caroline here hasn’t. I’ve been telling her that we need live bait. You got any of that around here?”

“You’re in luck.” I direct my comments to her. I have no interest in helping this blowhard do anything, not even take a shit in the woods. “Fall is the best time to catch pike, and they’re probably the most aggressive fish we’ve got out here.” Nothing like standing in a stream and catching those suckers with your paws, and then eating the tasty suckers then and there. Although, I admit to having developed a taste for cedar-smoked pike and walleye. Not all cooked fish is bad. “You can use spinners instead of leeches, grubs, or nightcrawlers, but if you want to use the live bait, that’s down at the supermarket. Fred’s got some good stuff in a place behind the grocery store.”

I gather up two poles, a jig, some spinners and fishing line, and then throw in a couple of life jackets.

“This here will do you good.”

“We don’t need these life jackets. We’re just going to be in a canoe.” The dude looks disdainfully at the flotation devices.

“Bill, I think I’d feel safer with a life jacket,” Caro objects, when the dude starts to pull the life jackets off the pile and return them to the wall.

I place a big palm on top of the yellow safety devices. “Rule in this shop is you can’t rent the fishing equipment without life jackets.”

“That’s fucking bullshit,” Bill sneers. “It’s a way for you to ratchet up the bill. I don’t need any fucking life jackets.”

“Bill.” Caro tugs on his arm. “Let’s just get the jackets. You don’t have to wear one.”

“Goddammit, Caro! It’s the principle of the thing. I’m not going to be taken for a ride by this jack wagon.” He stomps out.

Caro winces as the front door slams shut. “I’m so sorry about this.” She pulls out a wallet. “What’s the total?”

“You sure you want this?” I tip my head toward the door. Hopefully she understands that I’m talking about more than the life jackets. “There’s a spa across the street.”

She gives me a rueful smile. “I’m pretty sure I don’t, but I don’t think it would be fair to bail now. I’m the one who convinced him to come up here in the first place. We’ve been having problems for a long time, but I have a friend whose marriage was in trouble, and she came up here and said that the time away from the city made them realize how much they loved each other. So I booked this trip thinking we’d reconnect, but all it’s done is show me that I’ve been hanging on to something that was broken far too long.” She sighs. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I suppose because I don’t want you to think badly of me for going on a vacation with him.” Caro jerks a thumb over her shoulder.

I don’t feel so bad about winking at her now. “One good thing about the North woods is that it clears your head. Come back after you’ve dumped him, and I’ll show you some good fishing spots.”

Caro presses her very kissable lips together. “I’d like that.”

“Do you need another tent?” I point to the rolled-up sacks of nylon behind the counter. The idea of her sleeping even one night in the same enclosed space as Bill raises all the hairs on the back of my neck. I don’t like that idea one bit.

She glances out the front windows where Bill is talking with great animation on the phone. “Yeah, that sounds like a great idea.”

“If you need anything, holler. There are plenty of folks in the woods who will help you out.”

“Really? I thought the campsites were fairly isolated.”

“Nah. There are always hikers, fishers, stuff like that.” I shoulder the poles and tent, and gesture for her to take the tackle and other gear. “You’ll be safe no matter what.”

She nods. “I appreciate that.”

I’ll be nearby if you need me,
is what I’d like to say, but she doesn’t need to know that.

C
aro and her asshole boyfriend
, Bill, drive off, and I help suit up several other campers before closing the doors at around eight. My stomach growls, telling me I haven’t fed myself in at least three hours. The mac and cheese I nuked in the storeroom microwave for a mid-afternoon snack hadn’t been enough to satisfy a bird. I want to fill my belly before I go out into the woods and look for Caro.

The tavern serves decent mashed potatoes, gravy, and roast beef, and if I ask nicely, I bet there’ll be a piece of blackberry pie for me too. There aren’t too many people when I pull open the heavy wooden door to the restaurant/bar. I spot Sheriff Gant sitting in a booth by himself, and a couple of other locals. We exchange nods, and I order the special.

As I’m waiting, the door opens and in walks Bill, the asshole. I turn completely in my seat, and watch him stomp up to the bar.

“Vodka. Top shelf.” He slaps his hand on the bar top like he’s been waiting ten hours to be served.

Everyone in the establishment swivels to watch the show because although Sandy looks like a fragile girl, she’s tough as they come. She’ll eat him up and spit him out.

“It’ll be a minute.”

“Is this a bar? I need a motherfucking drink. If you’re too lazy to serve me, then why don’t you get the owner out here so I can talk to him?”

There’s a collective whoosh as we all suck in our breath. No one talks to Sandy like that, and not just because she’s a honey badger shifter and doesn’t take shit, but because her mate is the meanest, orneriest grizzly shifter around. And the fact he likes to hide in the kitchen all day doesn’t mean he doesn’t know exactly everything that goes on in his place.

I slide an amused gaze toward Sheriff Gant who leans back in his chair and puts his feet up so he can relax while watching this show.

With one hand on her hip and the other pointing toward the door, Sandy says, “If you think for a minute I’m going to allow you to drink my liquor after you’ve mouthed off like that to me, you’ve got another think coming. Now get out.”

“I’m not going anywhere, little girl. I’m here to drink, so serve me.” He turns his back on Sandy, and spots me. “Goddamned woman.”

“You seem to be having a bad day,” I goad, wondering what other fool things this guy can do. I’m pretty happy because I’m guessing his bad mood means Caro has dumped his ass.

“Women. All they’re good for is fucking, and even then, if they have to open their mouths, they pretty much ruin everything. The bitch I came with decided she didn’t want to fish because I wouldn’t wear a goddamned life preserver. Well, I showed her. I left her ass back at the campsite with a life preserver. See how much she loves it after a night out in the woods with nothing but that cheap-ass foam thing.” He cackles and slaps the bar stool next to him.

I’m on my feet and halfway to the bar before I know it. Sheriff Gant pulls me aside before I can get my two hands around Bill’s skinny neck.

“I got this,” Gant says. “You go get the girl.”

I wasn’t lying when I said that there are a shit ton of folks in the forest, but they aren’t all entirely safe for a tasty morsel like Caro, particularly if she’s alone. I hie out of the tavern, and have shifted into my brown bear form before the door hits me on the ass.

Behind me, I hear the squawking of Bill, proclaiming that Sheriff Gant can’t arrest him for doing nothing. It’s our town. Sheriff Gant can’t arrest him for being an asshole, but abandoning someone in the woods? That’s some kind of felony, for sure.

N
ext time
I think about forgiving someone, I’ll listen to my gut.

When Bill said he’d changed, my gut said, “No, he hasn’t.”

When Bill said he loved me still and wanted to give us another shot, my gut said, “Bad idea. Run for the hills.”

When Bill said he’d stopped partying so much and was holding down a real job, my gut said, “Yeah, right.”

Stupid gut, always being right.

I sigh to myself as I unroll the packaging for one of the new tents. Out flops a large tarp, some rustling material, a netty-looking thing that goes over the top, some poles, and an instruction booklet. I pick it up and stare at the pictures, but my mind keeps turning back to Bill.

I’m such a dummy. I know Bill is no good. In my heart, I know the type of person that Bill is won’t ever change. Bill’s a blowhard, and while it was fun at the beginning to date a guy who was so alpha and macho, it got old fast. I guess that’s why we’ve broken up seven times in the past three years. Actually, I think we’ve been off more than we’ve been on. And every time he apologizes, I take him back like an idiot. He says he’s changed, and I’m an optimist and I hope for the best, and so I give him another chance.

Actually, that’s not true. I’m not as much an optimist as I am lonely. I don’t have a lot of people in my life. I grew up a foster kid, bounced around between a lot of homes. I went off to college on the state’s dime, and met my best friend…who married a guy and moved halfway across the country. And then I met Bill.

I guess that’s why I’m clinging to him. I don’t have a lot of friends. Bill moved to Indiana for his job, and I followed him, and then we immediately broke up again. I didn’t want to lose the money on my lease, so I stayed. I don’t know anyone in Indiana, and I work from home doing medical transcriptions. I don’t have any pets because Bill’s allergic and the apartment doesn’t allow them. I don’t have anyone looking out for me.

It sucks, and it’s lonely. Sometimes I feel so desperate for human conversation I go to the grocery store and strike up conversations with the senior citizens in the produce aisle. I guess that’s why I agreed when Bill contacted me on Facebook a few days ago and said he missed me and wanted to try things again. I suggested the tiny resort town of Pine Falls in Minnesota, thanks to my college BFF’s suggestion. The pictures were beautiful—clear lakes filled with fish; thick, green forests filled with deer; and running streams with fat bears wandering through them. It looked like a fun vacation, and so I suggested it to Bill. He agreed, and we made plans.

Of course, those plans went awry the moment we reunited in the airport.

He kissed me in greeting, his mouth sloppy and his breath reeking of whiskey despite the early hour. Alarm bells went off in my head, but I ignored them. I wanted this vacation. No, I needed it. It’d been so long since I’d done anything fun and adventurous. So I squashed my misgivings, and we rented a car.

Bill’s card was declined when he tried to rent the car. “This vacation together tapped out my savings,” he’d admitted to me.

I’d immediately felt guilty. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because a man has pride, Caro,” he snapped, going immediately from remorse to anger. “And you whined about this damn trip so much that I felt like I’d lose you if I said no.” He glared at me, then stormed out of the rental office.

I meekly paid for the rental car because I felt like a bit of a jerk. I
had
pushed for a getaway. Maybe I was looking forward to a vacation more than spending time with Bill, and I’d forced him to come along with me. So I paid and said nothing about it. Bill apologized five minutes later, and we drove on to Pine Falls.

I fell in love with the place right away. It was just like the brochures, and utterly charming. Wooden cabins were nestled among trees, deer frolicked at the edge of town, and there were wildflowers amid the greenery. It was so adorable. I loved everything.

Bill, of course, hated everything. There was no Starbucks in town. The gas was expensive. The local shops were trying to rip us off.

I think about the locals as I study the instructions for the tent.

Well, I think about one local in particular—the really hot guy in the sporting goods store. The one who had raked me up and down with his gaze and then given me a smile that promised all kinds of dirty things. I’d blushed and looked away, but that flirty glimpse was seared into my brain.

Bill had noticed it too. After I’d paid for our camping gear, he’d bitched about it all the way up the path, accusing me of flirting right in front of him and disrespecting him. I watched him swig out of a small flask when he thought I wasn’t looking, and I realized I’d had enough.

So when we found our camping spot? I picked a fight. Bill mentioned fishing, and I insisted on the life jacket. He blew up, and five minutes later, I’d been abandoned to fend for myself in the wild.

I inhale a deep breath of woodland air. Instead of being panicked, I felt…relaxed. Happy. Coming here with Bill was a mistake. I didn’t realize how stressed he made me until he’d left and I felt free. I was glad for the tents, and glad that I was now alone. I’d stay up here a few days, enjoy the rest of my vacation, and try not to think about Bill again. It’d be a bit lonely, but I was used to that sort of thing.

I turn the instructions and study them. If I’m staying here, I need a tent and a fire. I’ve watched a lot of survival shows, so making a fire with a fire starter can’t be that hard, right? I’m sure I can figure it out, and the guy at the store told me everything he sold me was high-quality stuff.

A hot flush heats my cheeks as I think about the man again. I don’t often get checked out by other guys. I’m a little mousey, a lot quiet, and a little heavy. Bill’s always telling me I need to lose some weight, or asking me if I really need to eat all that food.

Something tells me that the guy back in town wouldn’t say something like that to me. The way he looked me over made me feel like he appreciated the way I look. I need a guy like him, I decide. Maybe if I see him again, I’ll shore up my courage and ask him out.

Oh, who am I kidding? I’ve never asked out a man in my life. And I showed up with Bill. He’s going to think I’m an idiot with terrible taste in men…and he wouldn’t be wrong about the latter part. I unfurl one of the tent rods, and peer at the directions. Looks simple enough.

Twenty minutes later, I have all the pieces of the tent spread out on the grass, and I snake the poles through the built-in loops of the dome tent. I manage to get the thing popped up and staked into the ground before I realize that I have the entire thing put together wrong. The door of the tent is on the bottom, for starters. I put my hands on my hips and drum my fingers, thinking.

As I do, I hear a rustling in the bushes.

I turn, half-afraid of what’s going to come out. A bear, maybe? Or Bill, raring for a fight?

A few moments later, a tall, familiar form emerges from the brush. It’s the ridiculously hot guy from the sporting goods store. Oh, jeez. My face heats up automatically. It’s like he heard my thoughts from up here.

“Knock knock,” he says, pretending to knock on a nearby tree. He’s smiling at me, and God, he looks good. The tight shirt he’s wearing emphasizes the broadness of his shoulders, and I can practically see every muscle outlined under that thin cotton. The jeans he’s wearing are tight fitting and seem a bit awkward, but he wears them like a pro. I think the man could dress in burlap and still be sex walking.

I bite my lip and resist the urge to fan my heated face. I try to think of something fun and flirty to say.
Remember when you said you’d hit on that, Caro, if you ever saw him again? Fate heard you. Time to act.

Unfortunately, what comes out is, “What are you doing here?”

His brows go down and for a moment he looks angry. “Your boyfriend showed up in town without you. I was worried he’d left you behind.”

Oh. “He did.” I carefully fold the tent instructions to give my hands something to do, and hope he doesn’t notice that I’ve put the thing together all wrong. “I…might have picked a fight with him to make him go away.”

The slow smile spreads over his face again. “Did you now?”

My entire body feels flushed with heat. “This was supposed to, um, be a reunion tour of sorts. Except it felt like a mistake right away.” I cross my arms over my chest, and prod a rock with my toe. Gosh, it’s hard to make eye contact when he’s so gorgeous and smiling at me. “I do appreciate you coming to look for me though. That was…sweet.”

“Can’t let someone as pretty as you get eaten by bears,” he teases.

Oh, God, flirting. I’m so terrible at flirting. I should laugh, right? Okay.
Laugh, Caro! He’s making a joke! Laugh!

A braying laugh escapes me, and I’m horrified at the sound. I clap a hand over my mouth and stare at him.

He clears his throat and thumbs a gesture back to the woods. “You want an escort back to town?”

“Nope,” I say brightly, and tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. I whip out the instructions again. “I’m setting up my camp. I wanted a nice weekend away from things, and it just got a lot nicer now that Bill left.”

He laughs. “You want some help with that? You’ll need a fire, and it’ll be getting dark soon. I could get you some wood. Or…” he gestures at my sad tent, “fix that.”

My cheeks heat. “That would be lovely, thank you. How much do I owe you?”

“No charge. Just being friendly.” He moves toward my tent and immediately begins to slide the poles out of the incorrect holes that I jammed them through. “I’m Leo.”

“Hi, Leo,” I breathe. “I’m Caro, um, Caroline, really, but my friends call me Caro.”

“Yup.” He looks back at me. “I remember.”

He remembered my name? A girlish flutter of excitement curls in my belly.