One Last Prowl: BBW Were Mountain Lion Shapeshifter Mail Order Bride Romance (Shifter Grove Brides Book 6) (2 page)

And it had been. He was a shifter, a mountain lion. They’d met in Arizona and gotten married there. The only reason they’d ended up in New York was because Dahlia had wanted to live in a big city so badly. They’d just gotten settled in when Marcus came along and everything seemed to be okay. Well, better than okay. It was perfect.

Right up to the day that Arthur got shot while delivering construction equipment to a worksite in his truck. It had been a simple robbery: they wanted the truck and the equipment and Arthur had put up a fight, like any shifter would.

Dahlia was sure he would have survived if only she had gotten to him in time. With the help of his fated mate, maybe he could have recovered… but she was too late. And while it had broken her, it had devastated their son, who had idolized his father as his hero as all little boys do. Ever since then, things hadn’t been the same. Dahlia could vaguely remember the way she’d been able to see colors when she went outside and now, everything seemed… dull. Like the life had gotten sucked out of her surroundings. And it seemed to be so much worse for her kid.

Still, over the last few years, she had started missing companionship again. Through the downs and the lower lows—there hardly ever seemed to be ups, unless they were moving again and looking forward to a “new start” that would inevitably be just like the previous ones before it—Dahlia had felt more alone than she could imagine. Looking around herself, she had to wonder if that was the kind of life Arthur could have imagined for his mate and son.

Shaking her head in frustration and downing the last remnants of wine in her glass, Dahlia moved onto the classifieds page. She went through it, reading but not really absorbing, until one ad made her go back to it not once, not twice, but three times. Reading it, she wrung her wrists nervously, feeling the urge to drop the man a reply. But what good would it do? And it wasn’t like she was feeling ready to move across the country, let alone for a man…

The ad read:

Southern gentleman mountain lion seeking amiable, preferably sweet, woman for matrimonial agreement. Children not a hindrance. Must love outdoors, big cats, and be capable of helping said gentleman understand the mysteries of housekeeping and other such mundane, fantastic acts. No shyness necessary; mountain lions only bite when provoked.

Dahlia grinned to herself. That was exactly something like what Arthur would have written. He kept sending her little notes when they were in their teens, trying to talk her into going out on a date with him. When she finally budged, he’d smiled like he’d won the lottery.

Dahlia poured herself another glass of wine and considered the ad thoughtfully. There was no harm in exchanging a few notes, was there? She could have a little bit of fun to finish out this otherwise completely depressing day, right?

“Dear southern gentleman,” she started typing, giggling. “But what if biting is a necessary prerequisite to capture this sweet belle’s heart and soul?”

She felt incredibly silly, pushing the send button. And she felt even sillier when he replied a few minutes later. But along with that, a scarlet blush rose to her cheeks…

Oh, what did I do?

CHAPTER TWO

Austin

The air was so damn clean that Austin immediately found himself regretting the fact that he had been a heavy smoker for fifteen years. He felt like his lungs should have been able to expand far more with the scent of pine wafting around him, even while standing in the middle of Shifter Grove. Out of habit, his hand went to his pocket where he usually kept the pack of cigarettes and the lighter, but this time his palm fell flat against the lining. He chuckled to himself, letting the hand slide off the pocket.

New town, new rules, new start,
he chanted to himself.

It seemed like he’d been saying that to himself for the past week or so and that was probably pretty close to the truth. With great difficulty, he pushed a certain southern belle out of his mind and concentrated on the work ahead of him. His arms were crossed over his chest as he eyed the sign above the store, Slate and Trey trying to level it to the best of their ability.

“A bit to the right, I reckon,” Austin said in his thick Texas drawl, always sounding like he was in mid-chew of a particularly tasty bit of chewing tobacco.

“I’d say it should be a bit down, really,” Tyler commented, standing next to Austin and considering the action with equal care.

“I say both of you need to shut up and get me a drink,” Slate groaned, drawing a round of laughter from around him.

“I can’t say I disagree with the man,” Deacon muttered, leaning on the truck that the sign had been brought in on.

Austin glanced over his shoulder, noting the growing collection of Shifter Grove menfolk gathering around him. Well, them and Cerise, the owner of the Sunrise Diner not far down the street from his fine new establishment. It was no surprise, either. Every side-road town needed a bar, right?

“I see you’re going for name recognition,” Raleigh commented, grinning.

“Well, you gotta make a name for yourself somehow, huh? I figured I wouldn’t try my luck with all of you too much,” Austin chuckled. “All right, boys, that’ll do. Nail that sucker in and come inside for a cold one,” he bellowed, his deep, gruff voice sounding easily to the top of the small building where Slate and Trey were already sighing with relief. “The rest of you, follow me! Drinks on the house at Austin’s Texas tonight!”

That was met by a resounding round of cheers, exactly as Austin had hoped. He grinned to himself, walking through the old-school saloon doors he had built in. The regular doors were swung wide open for now, even though October in Idaho was no joke. He wanted everyone to get that first visual shot of his bar looking exactly as he imagined it.

Walking in, he was immediately greeted by the warm lights and the buttery texture of the hardwood floors and dark green leather booths he had set up. Most of it was custom built, along with the big, proud oak bar carved by another newcomer to Shifter Grove, Malt. There were big old US maps of the states at various stages of their history, along with marked shifter areas and how they had changed. Above the bar hung a big Texas flag, right next to the US flag. Yes, it was a bit cheesy, but he’d wanted to get his own bar for the better part of the last twenty years and Austin was determined to do it his way, dammit.

He slipped behind the bar with seasoned ease. That came with the territory when you’d been tending bar for the last fifteen years, but always for someone else. Now, it was Austin’s turn to call the shots. Well, that and do all the dirty work. He hadn’t yet hired anyone to help out.

May the games begin.

“Now, listen here! Tonight, it’s drinks only! I can throw some peanuts at you but that’s it. Anyone knows of a good cook and fine waiters or waitresses, send ‘em my way! You come get your own drink and I’ll promise to make myself as likeable as I can for you younguns!” he huffed.

Austin grabbed the first two beer glasses and filled them to the brim with local ale specifically ordered from the Burly Bear Brewery, owned by Dalton and Dash Tambley out of Boise. He pushed them down the bar into the waiting hands of Cerise and Rhett, tipping his hat at Cerise.

“I’m awfully thankful that you decided to come, Miss Cerise,” he said, smiling genuinely. “I was hoping we could get along, even if I’m direct competition.”

“Competition?! Please, if you get these drunken louts out of my nice diner, we’ll get along just fine. I know whose pies they’re going to come gunning for, regardless of how many saloons we have in Shifter Grove,” Cerise said, chuckling as she raised her glass to Austin and took a sip.

“That’s a deal,” Austin confirmed, cheerfully getting back to work.

Someone was already making the jukebox bounce, filling the bar with something from Kenny Chesney that would have usually required Austin to be at least a few drinks in already, but tonight he didn’t mind. His heart was filled with satisfaction, even if he knew it was fleeting. But he was determined to enjoy the moment and make of it what he could. After all, for a man in his somewhat older, but still perfectly capable years, fresh starts didn’t come so easy.

Austin Duskstep was no small man. At six foot five he stood equal or taller to many of the shifters in his bar. He had once had jet-black hair, but it was now dotted with salt and pepper, making him look all the more like a grizzled cowboy from the south. Deep-set hazel eyes and a strong chin with high cheekbones made him look stern, but when he smiled, there was plenty of warmth about him that looked good on a bartender.

Still, something about him hinted at a dark past and things he’d rather keep to himself.

At forty-one years of age, Austin had had plenty of time to figure out what he wanted from life. To be honest, he’d figured it out when he was much younger. He’d found his mate when he was twenty-three, as a lone mountain lion in control of a large domain in Texas. But that was long behind him and now he was in Shifter Grove, alone, chasing a dream he hadn’t had the desire to pursue for far too long.

The night wore on and every manner of Shifter Grove locals popped by. The sheriff, Diesel, came by to re-check his permits and remind Austin of the allowed noise level, all before sitting down and having a pleasant chat with him over a glass of water. Rhett’s and Rush’s wife Daniela, owner of a beauty salon down the road, brought in a big cake to celebrate the grand opening—and to subsequently drag her husbands home, reminding them that it was a damn work day the next day.

Keesha Bailey from the one and only law firm in the area boldly slipped him a card for the first time he had trouble with a bar brawl and her husband Battle promised to lend a hand whenever Austin needed an odd job done around the bar or his newly bought big country home.

All in all, the evening was a resounding success. When the night slowly wound down and most of the locals began pouring out after haggling long and hard with Austin about paying their damn tabs instead of letting Austin treat them on the first night, Austin was left with only Deacon at the bar. With a sigh, Austin took a seat, rolling his shoulders back and pouring himself the first beer of the night. He took a sip and the cool barley taste went down sweet as honey, probably because the bear brothers he had bought it from were experts at adding honey to just about anything.

“Tired, old-timer?” Deacon joked, chuckling.

“I’m pretty sure you’re closer to my age than to most of the others that were here tonight, Deacon. So watch that tone of yours or I’ll have to give you a stern whooping,” Austin said, waggling his finger at Deacon with a smirk.

“Sir, yes sir,” Deacon answered,

At his “advanced” age, Austin really didn’t feel much different than he had at twenty-two or twenty-five, arguably his physical prime. Shifters aged well and his muscles were still as strong and flexible as they’d ever been, probably more so now as he spent plenty of time training them. His body could have rivaled most of the younger shifters in town and he was built thick and strong like Diesel and Battle and Warren—real tanks.

He’d never lost his edge, despite a dark time not far enough in the past that would probably never leave him. He was as hard, fast, and dangerous as he’d ever been. Now he simply had more wisdom and experience to control that animal rage in him that had driven him to deeds he’d regretted as a younger man.

“So, do you mind me prying a little?” Deacon asked, giving Austin a curious look.

“Sure, pry away. But keep what you learn to yourself. I need to keep some mystery about me so I can tell the same story over and over again to all you louts as you come in to bare your souls over the years,” Austin chuckled.

“What happened?” Deacon asked bluntly.

“What do you mean?”

Deacon pointed at Austin’s ring finger, where a stark pale line around it marked the spot where his wedding ring had been. That same wedding ring that was tucked away in a velvet box now in his closet back at home, with all the rest of the stuff he had to but couldn’t quite put behind him.

“Hmm. That,” Austin murmured, instinctively rubbing his finger and feeling the glaring lack of ring there. “It’s a long story. And probably not one for tonight,” he said.

Deacon nodded, understanding. Love and especially the loss of love was something that few shifters felt comfortable talking about. Having just one fated mate was the pure and honest truth, and the shifter who let theirs go would live the rest of their life regretting it. But, as always, there were different tales. Different circumstances. And fate had a way of working around certain situations.

“I hear you. Are you planning on trying again?” Deacon asked, raising an eyebrow at Austin.

“You mean with someone else?” Austin asked, surprised at how sharp the polar bear shifter was.

He’d heard Deacon’s story through Slate, the resident pilot and the one who seemed to have brought in almost every bride in Shifter Grove. Deacon and Aubrey’s story was apparently one of Slate’s favorites. Everybody loved a good tale of redemption and second chances, after all.

“Yup.”

“Can’t say I haven’t thought about it,” Austin said vaguely, thinking about the ad he had up on SassyDate.

He’d put it up as sort of a lark when he set off from Texas on the long drive to Idaho. One night, something had gripped him and urged him to throw his hat in the ring for once. Sure, he’d seen a few women after… after it all, but they had never been too serious. Dammit, he doubted that he could ever even
get
serious with anyone again, but an empty house was an empty house and he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving one and settling in at another one. So he’d put up an ad for a mail-order bride and waited for responses, sort of dreading and hoping at the same time.

“You should,” Deacon confirmed.

“Yeah? What makes you say that?” Austin asked, quirking a brow at him.

“I get the feeling that whatever happened with you happened a long time ago. And if you had a chance of making that right,” he said, pointing at the absence of the ring, “you would have already. No point in denying yourself happiness. Even if it is a
different
kind of happiness.”