Rock (BBW Secret Baby Bear Shifter Romance) (Secret Baby Bears Book 2) (6 page)

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Here are the series that follow and what you can expect:

Secret Baby Bears
- a group of Bear Shifters donate their semen to a research facility, but it accidentally gets put into the donor supply of a sperm bank. A few years later, these men are on the prowl for the cubs they never knew they had!

Star Bears
- intergalactic Bear Shifter smugglers cavort around the known universe, causing mayhem and finding love in unexpected ways.

Grizzly Groomsmen
- Five Bear Shifters find themselves on a tropical island to celebrate a wedding, but soon it turns into a nightmare.

Bear Dating Agency
- A matronly grandmother is sick of her Bear Shifter bachelor grandsons laying about their wilderness refuge. With the help of a friend she puts a plan into place to see them all matched up!

120 Proof Honey
- Entrepeneurs. Businessmen. Bear Shifters. These guys know their honey and their moonshine, and they’ll be damned if they let a little competition run them out of town.

Bearly Saints
- The Four Saints are the hottest folk music band in Nashville, and only time will tell if these Bear Shifter musicians will be able to tame The Music City and the passion that burns deep inside them.

Bear Ranchers
- A cluster of ranches in this sleepy valley are being terrorized by a pack of wild werewolves, and only this group of Bear Shifters can restore peace and order.

Edward

Rodeo Bears I

by

Becca Fanning

Chapter One

The heat hit her first, embracing her like a lover in the dark. Being from the Midwest, Dakota Blair had little experience with the heat, but she wasn’t in the Midwest any longer. She was far from it, a stranger in the arid desert of West Texas, a stranger on the run.

Keeping her head low under the dim lights, Dakota stepped off the bus into a station that was abandoned in the late hour. Attacked by the heat, clumps of her chestnut hair stuck to the back of her neck as she waited for the driver to unload her duffle bag. She was surrounded by a mass of people, fellow travelers weary from the journey. The bus had been full. She was glad. It was easy to hide in a crowd, much more so than standing exposed on her own.

When she had her bag, Dakota followed the others into the lobby. It was narrow and unwelcoming, designed to keep people moving, deterring the homeless and the broken from sleeping on its benches. Dakota wasn’t broken, but she didn’t see herself going anywhere for the remainder of the night. She had money, and she had ID, but she didn’t want to use it. She didn’t want anyone knowing who she was or why she was here.

Unless I can find a cheap motel
, she thought, moving to a board that listed accommodation in the area.
I’m sure West Texas has its share of scandal. There’s got to be a place I can bribe my way into without showing them ID.

Setting her bag down, she skimmed the board. There were plenty of bad motels, but a notice caught her attention. Printed on bright yellow copy paper, a woman advertised a room for rent in her apartment.

No drinks. No dealers. No conmen.

It didn’t say anything about fugitives. Taking out her phone, a burner she had picked up in a remote town in Oklahoma, she dialed the number, but no one answered.

“No desk is going to pick up this late at night,” an elderly woman in a Hoover Dam T-shirt said. “Better to make your way to the hotel and see if they have a room.”

“Yes, of course,” Dakota said politely, returning her phone to her bag. Having traveled for so long, she’d forgotten what it was like to be ruled by a clock. On the bus, she’d been gripped with an anxiety that scattered her sleep. Her light brown eyes would shut and open within the same day, constantly searching to make sure she wasn’t followed. She felt safest at night, when the stops were few and the bus was quiet.

There were only a few hours until sunrise. She wouldn’t bother with a motel. Finding peace in her decision to run to West Texas, she made a bench her bed. It was uncomfortable, but she was free to stretch her long legs out, something she couldn’t do on the bus.

Dakota didn’t sleep. She stared at the stains on the ceiling, pretending they were stars, and she waited for the sun to bring in a new day, a new life.

***

“This is it,” the woman said, inviting Dakota into her apartment. “It’s li’l enough to make a pig claustrophobic, but the rent is cheap and the bills are low.”

The apartment wasn’t that small. There was room to move. Dakota liked the way the kitchen blended into the living room, both decorated with a country charm. The glasses looked like jars, the cabinets were painted a pale grey-blue, and the doors were made of refurbished wood. It was simple but alluring.

The same could be said about the woman, Brianna Jackson. With her sleek auburn hair and jade-green eyes, Brianna was stunning, but she was grounded, almost to the point that she seemed burdened. Likely in her late-twenties, only a few years older than Dakota, she was far too young to carry such heaviness around her, but she was friendly in spite of it.

Brianna smiled kindly. “What do ya think? Could you stand living here without feeling like a sardine?”

“Can I see the bedroom?” Dakota asked, much more guarded than Brianna. She didn’t want to be discourteous, but she hadn’t come to West Texas so she could make friends. She’d chosen it because the South was loud and rowdy, a place she could get lost in.

“Sure. It’s just in here.”
 

Brianna opened a barn door at the back of the apartment, next to the kitchen. It revealed a modest room with a double bed pushed under a tiny window. With little light allowed into the room, the walls were haunted by shadows. In the corner, sitting in the shadows, was a dresser.

“It’s exactly what I’m looking for,” Dakota said. “I’m interested. Is there an application I need to fill out?”

Brianna laughed, her amusement filled with compassion. “No need, chickling. I’m renting it out myself. No agencies. I don’t really need the money, just the company. I travel a lot, and this town ain’t exactly the safest. I’m looking for a built-in house sitter.”

“So you own the apartment?”

“It was handed down to me, but yeah. My name is on the deed.”

That was good. There would be no paperwork to sign, nothing she needed to falsify to protect herself.
 

Dakota returned to the living room and pulled an envelope from her bag. “I can give you cash up front,” she offered, hoping Brianna would accept. The place was perfect. There was nowhere better she could hide, not unless she was willing to risk bed bugs and drunken neighbors.

Contemplative, Brianna studied her. “That’s an awful big purse you carry around,” she said, meaning the duffle bag.

“It’s my belongings.”

“Your only belongings?”

Dakota looked away, unwilling to share the details of her past. Maybe the apartment wasn’t such a good idea after all. “All that I have on me.”

“Gotcha. I was going to show the room to a few others over the week then choose from there, but I like what I see. You have your secrets, no doubt about that, but we all have things we keep hidden. As long as you’re not planning to bring no trouble, the room is yours.”

“No trouble,” she said, uncertain if it was a promise she could keep.

Brianna took the envelope. “You didn’t steal this, did you?” she asked with clemency.

“It’s my savings.” That, at least, was the truth.

“Are you handing me all you have? Cuz I don’t want you wandering around with empty pockets.”

“No. There’s more.”

“Good.” Brianna tucked the envelope into the back of her jeans without counting the money inside. “Then hurry on up and change. We have a rodeo to get to, and you can’t go wearing a sweatshirt. You’ll wither away like a tulip without water.”

“A what?” Dakota asked, taken aback.

“A rodeo. Call it your roommate initiation. I’m a bull rider. The best in my class. I can’t live with somebody who’s never seen a bull buck. You wouldn’t understand anything I have to say.”

Dakota glanced at her room. All she wanted to do was sleep. “I think I’ll have to pass, but thank you.”

“You can thank me after all the fun you’ve had. You look like you’re in need of some fun, chickling. Go on now. Shower and get dressed. I’m about to change your life.”

***

I came to the South because it was loud and rowdy
, Dakota mused as they entered the rodeo.
Careful what you wish for.

When she thought of rodeos, beefed-up rednecks sporting cowboy hats and rugged smiles came to mind, mavericks who were rambunctious and fowl-mouthed, sons and daughters of the Wild West. She was right. In the stadium where the rodeo events took place, hundreds of country folk cheered on a rider in a pen, their shouts as deafening as a thunderstorm.

Beside her, wearing a white hat embroidered with a green that matched her eyes, Brianna whistled. “I love it when the party comes home! That’s Owen Hutch,” she explained, pointing to the man in the pen. “He’s the best bull rider in these parts. He’s a superstar.”

A buzzer echoed across the stadium, causing everyone to explode. Used to the drone of the bus, it took all of Dakota’s willpower not to cover her ears. In the pen, sitting on a bull, Owen shook a gloved fist in the air, playing to the crowd, not a fear on him.

“We’re getting close!” Brianna shouted over the noise. “When they open the gates, his eight seconds will start. He has to stay on for eight seconds to receive a score. We’re just in time.”

“Is the score based on how long you’re on the bull?” she asked.

“Only partly. It’s how well you ride.”

They stood near the arena, inches from the barrier that divided them from the action. Tickets didn’t seem to be a requirement, not for Brianna. Everyone they passed had greeted Brianna warmly, full of admiration. No one had stopped them, not even security. It seemed Owen Hutch wasn’t the only superstar at the rodeo. Brianna Jackson had her own fans.

“Are you ready?” the announcer bellowed across the stadium. He was met with elaborate applause. “Keep your britches on. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.”

Another buzzer sounded, and the gates to the pen swung open. The bull rushed out, carrying Owen on its back. He sat tall and confident, moving with the bull as if he and the animal were the same. Dakota watched him carefully, his ease and his talent. And the way he awkwardly shook his foot against the bull, the only flaw to his ride.

“Somethings wrong,” she said.

Brianna saw it too. She clenched the metal barrier in front of them, her face lined with worry. “His foot is stuck in the rope,” she said, indicating the rope tied around the bull that Owen held onto, his grip. “They didn’t put it on proper. He won’t be able to get off. When he falls, he’ll drag against the bull. Why don’t the officials see it?”

She called to an official, but it was too late. Owen fell, but instead of rolling away like Dakota had seen in the movies, he flopped against the bull like a ragdoll. A bull fighter jumped into the arena to help, but the bull couldn’t be controlled. It bucked relentlessly, jerking Owen around, and there wasn’t anything anyone could do.

Except for Owen. In a flash, the rider was no more. In his place was a bear, a brown grizzly who easily broke through the rope and rolled away.

“He’s a shifter,” Dakota stated.

“Thank goodness he is,” Brianna muttered, relaxing, the danger over. “Otherwise, he would have been killed.”

Shifters were no secret. Humans had known about them for almost a century, but they were few and far between. To meet a shifter was rare. Many people never did.

Dakota had. She knew one very well, back home.

“I’m surprised shifters are allowed to compete,” she said, knowing their abnormal strength and instinct gave them an advantage over other athletes.

“It’s a sore subject. A lot of folk don’t agree with it.” Brianna spoke tensely, her focus on the pen where Owen had disappeared. Dakota could tell she wanted to go to him to make sure he was okay.

“Go,” she told Brianna. “I’ll be fine. I’ll wander outside and get some fresh air.”

“Thanks. I won’t be long. Meet me in front of the photo booth in an hour.”

“Sure. Sounds good.”

As soon as Brianna was out of sight, Dakota left the stadium for the brightness of the day where the sun blazed down on numerous craft stalls, food stands, and beer tents. Crowds of people pushed past her, enjoying the festivities. Wearing jeans and a red tank top that complemented her chestnut hair, she almost fit in, if not for her fair skin. She would tan, eventually, but until then, her paleness marked her as an outsider. It was a bad thing. A very bad thing.

Folding her arms around her, she headed for the bathrooms, but as she passed a beer tent, she was knocked to the ground by an impossibly tall cowboy with broad shoulders and arms that could tackle a dinosaur. With his golden eyes and sandy blonde hair, she found him good-looking, if he weren’t a stumbling drunk.

“Don’t come back without my money,” a portly man with bad skin called from the tent. “You owe me, Edward Tyrell, and I always collect my debts. I don’t care who your family is or what you are.”