Heat: A Werebear + BBW Paranormal Romance (Bearpaw Ridge Firefighters Book 1) Page 3

  She was unnerved by how quickly she was becoming infatuated with her fireman hero.

  A funny expression crossed his face, as if he were in pain. Migraine, maybe?

  "I'm sorry…but I can't," he said, sounding genuinely regretful. "I should be getting home—like you, I have to get up and go to work before the sun rises."

  She extended her hand. "Rain check, then. Stop by anytime, and I'll treat you to coffee and the pastry of your choice. And thank you, Dane—you were a real lifesaver tonight."

  A jolt moved up her arm as his strong, callused fingers closed around hers.

  He felt it, too—she saw his eyes widen at their contact.

  "Anything to help a damsel in distress," he said, his tone light.

  He didn't let go of her hand.

  They stood there, looking at each other, neither of them willing to be the first to move away.

  Finally, Dane cleared his throat.

  "Good night, Annabeth," he said softly, releasing her hand at last. "Sweet dreams."

  Even after the door closed behind him, she could still feel his touch, lingering against her skin.

  She suspected that her dreams tonight were going to be very sweet.

  Chapter 3 – Kissed

  The sensible thing for Dane to do would have been to stay away from the bakery until his bear forgot about the whole "fated mate" nonsense.

  Unfortunately, he couldn't stop thinking about Annabeth. The way her eyes lit up when she smiled. The irresistible fragrance of healthy woman mingled with vanilla and spice.

  And the feeling of sheer rightness, of the universe clicking into place when he had touched her.

  Damn it. What was he going to do? The longer he went without seeing Annabeth, the more she occupied his every spare thought.

  "Dane, are you going to finish filling in that calving spreadsheet sometime this afternoon, or would you like to daydream a little longer?" asked his mother with wry good humor.

  Dane, jolted out of his thoughts, jumped a little. He hadn't heard Elle Swanson enter the Grizzly Creek Ranch's office.

  Mom was kind and loving but had ruled her family with a firm hand, which was a good thing, considering the idiot antics that a horde of five shifter boys could get up to.

  "I'm almost done," Dane assured her.

  Feeling guilty, he turned his attention back to the computer's screen. It had been a good spring on the ranch so far, with most of their cows bearing healthy calves.

  But Mom wasn't going to let him off that easily.

  "So, Evan tells me that you've gone all…what was the term he used?" she asked herself, and Dane braced himself. "Ah, yes, 'googly-eyed' over that pretty little baker in town."

  "I haven't," he protested, even as the rising heat in his face betrayed him. Not that he'd ever been able to keep a secret from his mother.

  "Really?" she asked skeptically, and he could feel her eyes looking straight into his soul.

  "Uh, she's great," he blurted out. "I mean, she's a really good baker. Have you tasted her cinnamon rolls? I just stopped by to see if she needed any help…"

  Dane stopped speaking, aware that he wasn't making things any better for himself.

  "Oh, Dane, sweetheart." Mom sighed and sat down in the office's other chair. "Not again! You know she's not one of us. Not a shifter. And after what happened with poor Tanya…"

  As if he needed the reminder!

  He had been thinking about Tanya a lot this past week, trying to come to terms with his old pain and feelings of guilt.

  "I know," he said tightly.

  He knew that Mom meant well. But she didn't understand what was happening with Annabeth.

  Then again, neither did he. Even if his bear was dead-certain that Annabeth Jones was their fated mate.

  "Just…be careful, honey. I don't want you to get hurt like last time," Mom said softly.

  Too late, he thought. The scents of cinnamon and vanilla had already gotten under his skin.

    

  "Hey there, Annabeth," called Dane from the front of the bakery on the following Monday afternoon. "Need a hand?"

  Annabeth had heard the front doorbell as she staggered in through the back door, her arms laden with a huge twenty-pound block of butter, and she realized with a jolt that she had left the storefront unlocked when she left after lunch.

  That would have been disastrous in San Francisco. But luckily not here, where people didn't even bother to lock their cars most of the time.

  "Be there in just a moment!"

  Oh, thank God, she thought with complete sincerity. My hero has arrived!

  Annabeth had just returned from her weekly shopping run to the restaurant supply place and was unloading her car. The butter was the last of the smaller items, and she was bracing herself to drag the first of the fifty-pound flour bags out of her trunk.

  She dumped the butter in the refrigerator, then hurried to the front of the bakery, cursing silently as she bumped her hip—yet again—on the big Hobart floor mixer that always seemed to be in the way.

  Annabeth came to a halt when she saw Dane standing in the middle of the deserted dining area.

  He was even more attractive than she remembered in his worn jeans and a flannel shirt that emphasized the width of his shoulders and chest.

  "Hi, Dane!" She smiled at him, very glad to see him, and not just because of those fifty-pound flour sacks waiting in the back of her Prius.

  It had been over a week since he had stopped by to help her unload her car. In her few spare moments, she had wondered if she'd done or said something to drive him away.

  "Can I get you a coffee and something to eat?" she asked

  "That would be great," he said, dropping down into one of her chairs. "I know you're closed today, but I thought I'd stop by and see if you needed any help. But I can only stay for a few minutes," he added, then yawned. "I have get to the hardware store before it closes."

  "I'm really glad you came by," she said as she poured him a mug of coffee from one of the tall Airpot thermal carafes lined up on one side of the counter.

  Luckily, she'd brewed a pot for herself earlier today, while she was doing her weekly deep cleaning, and it was still piping hot.

  "I've missed seeing you around. I'd been wondering if everything was okay with you."

  "It's calving season, and everyone at the ranch is a little short of sleep. Including me," Dane said.

  He did look tired, she thought.

  "I sold out of cinnamon rolls at 2:00 p.m. yesterday," she said, apologetically, as she put a plate with a day-old lemon bar in front of him. "But I'm not complaining—I have to tell you, before opening day, I was terrified that I'd flop big-time and lose all my savings. Now I'm worried I won't be able to keep up with the demand. I had to buy twice as much flour and sugar and butter this week."

  He chuckled, a low rumble of sound that went straight to the pit of her belly and kindled warmth there.

  "Too much demand is a nice problem to have when you're starting a business," he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling in one of those sexy smiles as he took a big bite of the lemon bar. "We had just the opposite problem a few years ago—our small, family-run ranch couldn't compete with the big beef cattle operations in the Midwest. But now there's a real demand for organic, free-range, grass-fed beef, so we're doing all right again. My brother Thor, who lives in Denver, just got us a contract with the Salt & Bourbon Steak House location there."

  "Wow," Annabeth said, genuinely impressed. "I had dinner at Salt & Bourbon in San Francisco for my birthday last year. I nearly fainted when I saw the prices on the menu."

  Roger had insisted on taking her there. Luckily, he'd also paid the bill afterwards, since dinner had cost nearly a week's wages for her.

  "Yeah, it's definitely a high roller kind of place," Dane agreed. "And this lemon bar is wonderful."

  Annabeth smiled when she saw that only a few crumbs of the shortbread crust remained on the plate.

  She rubbe
d her hip, which was still smarting. She'd just put a bruise on top of her existing bruises, she was sure of it.

  "Hey, are you okay?" Dane sounded concerned.

  "Fine," she assured him. "It's just my Hobart. I love it—for one thing, it has a programmable timer, so you can just set it, start it, and go do something else for a while. But whoever set it up put it right in the path between the oven and the front counter. So I bump into it a lot."

  Dane thumped his coffee mug down on the table and stood. "That's your big mixer, right? Just tell me where you want me to move it," he said, sounding eager.

  He headed behind the counter, pushing open the low, swinging gate that separated the dining area from the working part of the bakery

  "Wait—I don't think you'll be able to move it by yourself," Annabeth said, hurrying behind him. "It's so big and heavy—oh."

  She halted, awed by the ease with which Dane had lifted the bulky floor mixer. It weighed at least four hundred pounds, but he was holding it without any sign of strain.

  "Um, if you could move it two feet to your left…" Annabeth managed.

  His muscles were bulging under his shirt, and she wanted to stop and appreciate the sight.

  "Here?" Dane asked, after moving several steps.

  "Perfect!" Annabeth said and watched Dane lower the huge appliance gently to the floor. "Thank you so much. And how did you do that without hurting yourself?"

  She could have sworn that he looked panicked for an instant. Then he grinned at her and touched the brim of his cowboy hat.

  "Why, ranch work will do that for a man, Ms. Annabeth," he said in an exaggerated drawl. "Nothing like wrestling a bunch of half-grown calves to build up your strength."

  "Right," she said, not sure if he was joking.

  "…and the presence of a pretty lady to make a man not want to look like a wimp," he added with a wink. "I'd have moved a mixer twice that size just for one of those lemon bars and a smile from you."

  Annabeth froze. Was the sexiest man she'd ever met actually flirting with her? Fat Bethie?

  And if he was, was he doing it just to be polite, or did he really find her attractive?

  "If—if you liked the lemon bars, I have a couple left over. I—I could pack them up for you," she stammered.

  "I'd like that." The sexy smile was back, and it hit her in the gut with a hot punch. "Annabeth, I told you that you'd have people lining up for those cinnamon rolls, but your lemon bars are running a close second, in my opinion. And I'm glad that your bakery seems to be successful so far."

  "I'm thrilled," Annabeth said. "I really thought it would take a lot longer to build a customer base, especially in a small town like this."

  "See now, that's where the size of Bearpaw Ridge works to your advantage." His smile widened. "Well, and those free samples you handed out the other morning might have had something to do with Mark, Evan, and me telling everyone we knew that they had to try your cinnamon rolls."

  "I thought I spotted a few firemen in the line," she said, warmed by his words. "I can't thank you enough, Dane. What you've done for me—"

  "Was just a little bit of word-of-mouth advertising to get you started," he interrupted gently. "Your hard work and your talent have done the rest, Annabeth. Everyone's talking about your bakery, and I'm sure you've noticed you're getting a lot of repeat customers."

  She nodded. She spent most of the past week dashing back and forth between the front and back of the bakery, programming the mixer or rolling out the next batch of buns, then running to the counter to serve customers.

  "I honestly didn't think it was going to be this busy, not this quickly," she said. "I need to find a counter person who can handle the cash register and also serve as a barista. Eventually, I'd like to hire an assistant baker, too, and stock the cooler case with pre-made sandwiches, but that can wait. Right now, I'm going to concentrate on coffee and pastries. And wedding cakes." She glanced at him hopefully. "You wouldn't happen to know someone who's looking for a job?"

  "As a matter of fact, I do," Dane said. "My cousin Kayla just graduated from college, and she's back home in Bearpaw Ridge for the summer. She'll be here until grad school starts in the autumn."

  "Oh, good," Annabeth said gratefully. "Please tell her to come by, and I'll interview her."

  "I'll do that. And I'll ask my mom if she knows anyone who might be able to help you with the baking. She knows almost everyone in this county. In the meanwhile, can I help you unload anything from your car?"

  "I thought you'd never ask!" She fluttered her eyelashes at him coquettishly and was rewarded with another laugh.

  Just as he had before, Dane effortlessly carried the sacks of flour and sugar from her car to her storeroom in a single trip.

  "Dane, you are my hero, and you have just won a lifetime supply of free coffee and pastries," she told him when he had finished.

  She clasped her hands over her breast like the heroine of a silent movie.

  He laughed. "Better not let word of that offer get around, or you'll have men lined up outside the bakery to do your chores." He paused, and his voice went low and sexy. "Promise me that I'm your one and only, and I'll make sure that you never have to worry about any heavy items."

  "You are my one and only, Dane Swanson," she said.

  Her tone was teasing, but his words had stirred a primal need deep inside her, and that unsettled her.

  He's just joking, she told herself. Don't take it seriously. You don't want to scare him off, do you?

  "Good," he said, and suddenly his tone sounded anything like joking. "Here's my number."

  He handed her a business card, and she glanced down long enough to see a stylized bear paw logo and Grizzly Creek Ranch emblazoned on it.

  "Call me the next time you go shopping at the restaurant supply place. If I'm not available, I'll send my youngest brother Ash over. He works from home, and you can pay him in cinnamon rolls."

  "Just how many brothers do you have, anyway?" she asked, curious to learn more about her knight in a cowboy hat.

  "Too many, if you ask my mom," he replied, grinning. "She says she kept trying for a girl past the point of good sense. There are five of us—me, Mark, Evan, Thor, and Ashton." He looked up at the bakery clock with a regretful sigh. "And I really need to get going. Hardware store closes in twenty minutes."

  "I'll go wrap up those lemon bars for you," she said and went back behind the counter.

  When she returned, she held out one of her to-go boxes to him. "I put in some brownies as well," she said.

  On impulse—and because she badly wanted to touch him again, she grabbed his hand when he reached for the box. "Dane, I can't thank you enough. You don't know what it means to me to have a friend in a new place."

    

  Afterwards, Dane told himself that he'd been doing fine until she touched him.

  He'd known that dropping by the bakery wasn't a good idea, but he hadn't been able to stop himself. Staying away from her had only gotten more difficult as the week wore on. His bear had gotten increasingly restless and irritable with each passing day.

  Dane had tried to remind himself that it isn't smart to get involved with an ordinary human. He remembered every minute of that catastrophic last day with Tanya.

  But in the end, he couldn't resist the excuse to drive into town for an errand. And once he was there, he told himself that it couldn't hurt to drop by the bakery for five minutes just to say hi.

  And to help Annabeth unload her car. His bear liked that, liked doing things for the woman it considered its fated mate.

  The temptation of having her standing so close to him, surrounding him with her scent, and smiling up at him as her fingers wrapped around his, proved to be too much.

  With a low growl, he pulled her to him and bent his head. He buried his face against the soft, warm skin on the side of her neck, and inhaled deeply.

  "You smell so sweet," he whispered and felt her pulse jump against his lips.

 
Dane took her into his arms, pressing her soft curves against his chest. She fit perfectly against him. She didn't try to pull away. If anything, she leaned into him.

  He wanted her with every bone and sinew in his body and with every inch of his soul.

    

  Urgent kisses sent fire though Annabeth's veins as Dane worked his way up her throat to her mouth. His lips were firm, surrounded by the faint prickle of stubble that caressed her tender skin.

  Then his mouth reached her lips in a devouring kiss, and the fire in her veins coalesced into a single point of heat between her thighs.

  Annabeth returned his kiss with frantic desire as he took possession of her lips with a thoroughness that left her knees weak and her entire body pleading for more.

  She lost track of time, forgot where she was. Forgot that they were standing in front of the bakery's windows, where the entire street could see them kissing.

  There was only Dane's warm mouth moving hungrily against hers and the hot, urgent desire pulsing through her body.

  She felt his hands pulling up the hem of her T-shirt, then the incredible feeling of his callused palms against the bare skin of her lower back.

  Annabeth wanted more, wanted him to touch her everywhere.

  Then the doorbell chimed, and Evan Swanson said, "This doesn't look like the hardware store, bro."

  Annabeth stiffened in shock, and Dane pushed away from her entirely, looking stricken. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to—"

  And then he was out the door of the bakery, pushing past his brother to escape.

  Annabeth stared after him, feeling shaken and dazed, every inch of her awakened and screaming with desire.

  "Sorry," Evan said, even managing to sound sincere. "Dane's always so damned serious, I couldn't help poking him a little when I passed by and saw you two. I didn't mean to send him fleeing into the sunset."

  Like his brother, Evan was a tall, strapping, dark-haired specimen of cowboy-hatted manhood. At the moment, he looked embarrassed.

  "No, th-that's okay," Annabeth managed, trying to convince herself that it was a good thing they were interrupted, before things got out of control.

  But damn, Dane was a good kisser. Better than Roger. Better anyone she’d ever dated before.