Beck Bear
Page 12
Rhett rolled his eyes to the clouds above and shook his head. Assholes. Like Rhett intended to ruin her. Sure, he was always trying to get out of work and laid out boobytraps in Kamp’s trailer when he got bored. And sure he’d put Pen15 Juice labels on all of Kamp’s beer and sold it without his permission. And sure he hid the mail from the Crew, slashed Remi’s tires, and bought Raider a naked mole rat mostly to piss Kamp off, but he was mostly a good person.
His beer buzz had worn off and his ribs hurt like a motherfucker. He was cold down to his soul and had work early in the morning. Which he needed to figure out how to ditch so he could have visitation with Sara and Dr. Monroe.
But all that fell away as he looked up and saw her—Juno.
She was sitting on the bottom stair of 1010, huddled in her jacket that she must’ve picked up from the porch where he’d thrown it, shivering, elbows resting on bent knees, cheek resting on her hand, windblown golden hair lifting in the cold breeze, silver eyes steady on him.
The first time I saw you I knew,
You would be the end of me
And I didn’t want to lose,
Everything I thought my life would be
I fought you from the second I knew you…
From the second I knew you…
He could hear the guitar chords as the lyrics came to him.
Hello again, muse.
Remi jogged past him to get to Kamp, but he barely registered her. He couldn’t take his eyes off the worry that pooled in Juno’s eyes. How long had it been since anyone had worried over him?
Felt nice. Better than nice… For some strange reason, it was a relief to have one person care about his well-being for once. Not because he was a singer. Not because he had a big following. Not because of what he was, but because of who he was. He didn’t care what Kamp and Grim said. She was here for a day, or two days, or a week. She was temporary, but he wanted to keep this feeling of connection. Like the moment she’d clamped her teeth on his arm and held there—just existing, two bodies turned to one. That hadn’t gone away. In fact, it had gotten stronger with their kiss. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, even when she wasn’t around, if that made any sense. She felt different than other people, and he’d met thousands. He’d become desensitized to people, and here she was, pulling feelings from him he’d thought he was incapable of.
He didn’t know why she was so interesting to him, or why he was so attracted to her. All he knew was that he didn’t want to get rid of this feeling and cut her off just because the others thought he ruined everything he touched.
She was waking up his muse, so maybe he would ruin her just a little.
He was okay being a stain if he could make a good memory for her.
Chapter Nine
The relief that flooded her veins had Juno sighing the breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding. The second Rhett came out of those woods, his gate steady and strong, she felt dizzy with how glad she was that he was all right.
He’d protected her. Her. A big old bear shifter. Yeah, she was submissive, and fighting was hard on her animal, but he hadn’t known that. All he’d known was that he was going to take care of the threat, and she needed to get somewhere safe.
Good man.
She frowned. Injured man. He was coming straight for her, and as soon as he stepped into the halo of porch light, she winced. The left side of his torso was all clawed to hell. But if he felt the pain, his cocky, crooked smile hid it. His shoulders were wide and cut and his abs on full display, flexing with every step in the snow. He wore tan work boots that were still unlaced and nothing else. Dayum. There should be, in existence, a twelve-month calendar of just men in boots and nothing else. She was trying not to stare at where his big hand cupped his nethers but, good lord, it had been a while since she’d seen a man like this. No, strike that. She’d never seen a man like this. She wanted to say something smart, but once again she fucked up the moment. Say I like your shoes. No, say I like your nipples. No, don’t do that. Be cool. Say— “I like your shipples.” No!
She squeezed her eyes closed and hung her head as his deep laugh echoed through the clearing.
“Thanks? I think?”
“Yeah, well, if you ever need a moment turned awkward or a weird compliment, I’m your girl.”
“Mmm, you’re my girl, huh?” he asked so softly she nearly missed it over her own embarrassed giggling.
“What?” she asked, hope blooming in her chest.
“I want to show you something.”
“If it’s your dick, I can actually see it right now, peeking through your fingers,” she said, pointing.
“Ha!” he said, looking down and adjusting his hand to cover more. “I mean something not perverted, but thanks for keeping us in the awkward stage.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice,” she said, bowing her head once.
“I would guess a lifetime of practice.”
“You would be correct. Okay, show me your non-penis. I’m super prepared.”
Rhett twitched his head toward 1009. “It’s in there.”
“Are you about to get creepy?”
“I’m not luring you into my den, Juno. You know who I am, or I guess…what I was. It’s one of the only things I brought from my old life.”
Intrigued, she stood and called out, “Night, Remi, I’m going to a slumber party at Rhett’s tonight.”
“Cool, don’t get an STD,” Remi called.
“What the hell, Remi?” Rhett drawled out. “Shifters don’t even get those and thanks for the cock-block.”
“I’ll kill you if you touch her,” Remi sang out as she and Kamp headed back toward their trailer, arms around each other’s waists.
“Hate,” he muttered low to himself as he lead Juno toward his trailer.
Juno was really trying to hide a smile, but it wasn’t working.
“Glad you’re amused,” he muttered.
“I owe you an apology,” Grim said from Rhett’s front porch right as they moved to climb the stairs.
“Aaah!” she and Rhett both yelped in unison, jumping back like a pair of synchronized swimmers who had practiced the move a hundred times.
Grim was sitting on the plastic chair, staring at them like they were steaks and he’d skipped dinner.
“How the fuck did you get up here?” Rhett asked.
Grim ignored his question and said, “I’m sorry I almost killed you tonight.”
Rhett looked down at her, but hell if she knew who Grim was apologizing to. She was pretty sure his lion tried to kill everyone here tonight.
“Uh, there’s always tomorrow,” Rhett muttered as he grabbed her hand and led her to the front door.
The snarl that emanated from Grim’s throat lifted the hairs on the back of her neck. But he shook his head hard, said something to himself she didn’t understand, and stood to leave. Rhett pulled her into the house and locked the door behind them.
“He means well,” Rhett said.
“Really?”
“No.”
She snorted a laugh. Okay, most of today shouldn’t be funny, but he had a way of lightening any situation. He was funny. “Just so you know, a sense of humor ups a boy’s hot-points by at least a dozen.”
“Only a dozen? That’s my only positive attribute.”
“Exactly, so your hot-points are at twelve.”
He snickered and led her through the small kitchen to a back bedroom. She was about to pop off again about how she really wouldn’t be licking his pickle tonight, but she swallowed her words down when she saw why he’d brought her in here. In the back corner of the room, hidden from easy view by a bed, there was a single guitar on a stand. Oh, she recognized it. Any girl who claimed to be a fan of his would. It was an old beat-up Martin acoustic guitar with a soft leather strap where he’d hand painted the words Country will never die.
The frets were all worn, and the fretboard scuffed from pressing strings on it for so many years. The thing was scratched and had a strip of camouflage duct tape along one curve. The pickguard was black and had been scuffed all to hell.
This instrument had seen music.
Real music.
His beer buzz had worn off and his ribs hurt like a motherfucker. He was cold down to his soul and had work early in the morning. Which he needed to figure out how to ditch so he could have visitation with Sara and Dr. Monroe.
But all that fell away as he looked up and saw her—Juno.
She was sitting on the bottom stair of 1010, huddled in her jacket that she must’ve picked up from the porch where he’d thrown it, shivering, elbows resting on bent knees, cheek resting on her hand, windblown golden hair lifting in the cold breeze, silver eyes steady on him.
The first time I saw you I knew,
You would be the end of me
And I didn’t want to lose,
Everything I thought my life would be
I fought you from the second I knew you…
From the second I knew you…
He could hear the guitar chords as the lyrics came to him.
Hello again, muse.
Remi jogged past him to get to Kamp, but he barely registered her. He couldn’t take his eyes off the worry that pooled in Juno’s eyes. How long had it been since anyone had worried over him?
Felt nice. Better than nice… For some strange reason, it was a relief to have one person care about his well-being for once. Not because he was a singer. Not because he had a big following. Not because of what he was, but because of who he was. He didn’t care what Kamp and Grim said. She was here for a day, or two days, or a week. She was temporary, but he wanted to keep this feeling of connection. Like the moment she’d clamped her teeth on his arm and held there—just existing, two bodies turned to one. That hadn’t gone away. In fact, it had gotten stronger with their kiss. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, even when she wasn’t around, if that made any sense. She felt different than other people, and he’d met thousands. He’d become desensitized to people, and here she was, pulling feelings from him he’d thought he was incapable of.
He didn’t know why she was so interesting to him, or why he was so attracted to her. All he knew was that he didn’t want to get rid of this feeling and cut her off just because the others thought he ruined everything he touched.
She was waking up his muse, so maybe he would ruin her just a little.
He was okay being a stain if he could make a good memory for her.
Chapter Nine
The relief that flooded her veins had Juno sighing the breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding. The second Rhett came out of those woods, his gate steady and strong, she felt dizzy with how glad she was that he was all right.
He’d protected her. Her. A big old bear shifter. Yeah, she was submissive, and fighting was hard on her animal, but he hadn’t known that. All he’d known was that he was going to take care of the threat, and she needed to get somewhere safe.
Good man.
She frowned. Injured man. He was coming straight for her, and as soon as he stepped into the halo of porch light, she winced. The left side of his torso was all clawed to hell. But if he felt the pain, his cocky, crooked smile hid it. His shoulders were wide and cut and his abs on full display, flexing with every step in the snow. He wore tan work boots that were still unlaced and nothing else. Dayum. There should be, in existence, a twelve-month calendar of just men in boots and nothing else. She was trying not to stare at where his big hand cupped his nethers but, good lord, it had been a while since she’d seen a man like this. No, strike that. She’d never seen a man like this. She wanted to say something smart, but once again she fucked up the moment. Say I like your shoes. No, say I like your nipples. No, don’t do that. Be cool. Say— “I like your shipples.” No!
She squeezed her eyes closed and hung her head as his deep laugh echoed through the clearing.
“Thanks? I think?”
“Yeah, well, if you ever need a moment turned awkward or a weird compliment, I’m your girl.”
“Mmm, you’re my girl, huh?” he asked so softly she nearly missed it over her own embarrassed giggling.
“What?” she asked, hope blooming in her chest.
“I want to show you something.”
“If it’s your dick, I can actually see it right now, peeking through your fingers,” she said, pointing.
“Ha!” he said, looking down and adjusting his hand to cover more. “I mean something not perverted, but thanks for keeping us in the awkward stage.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice,” she said, bowing her head once.
“I would guess a lifetime of practice.”
“You would be correct. Okay, show me your non-penis. I’m super prepared.”
Rhett twitched his head toward 1009. “It’s in there.”
“Are you about to get creepy?”
“I’m not luring you into my den, Juno. You know who I am, or I guess…what I was. It’s one of the only things I brought from my old life.”
Intrigued, she stood and called out, “Night, Remi, I’m going to a slumber party at Rhett’s tonight.”
“Cool, don’t get an STD,” Remi called.
“What the hell, Remi?” Rhett drawled out. “Shifters don’t even get those and thanks for the cock-block.”
“I’ll kill you if you touch her,” Remi sang out as she and Kamp headed back toward their trailer, arms around each other’s waists.
“Hate,” he muttered low to himself as he lead Juno toward his trailer.
Juno was really trying to hide a smile, but it wasn’t working.
“Glad you’re amused,” he muttered.
“I owe you an apology,” Grim said from Rhett’s front porch right as they moved to climb the stairs.
“Aaah!” she and Rhett both yelped in unison, jumping back like a pair of synchronized swimmers who had practiced the move a hundred times.
Grim was sitting on the plastic chair, staring at them like they were steaks and he’d skipped dinner.
“How the fuck did you get up here?” Rhett asked.
Grim ignored his question and said, “I’m sorry I almost killed you tonight.”
Rhett looked down at her, but hell if she knew who Grim was apologizing to. She was pretty sure his lion tried to kill everyone here tonight.
“Uh, there’s always tomorrow,” Rhett muttered as he grabbed her hand and led her to the front door.
The snarl that emanated from Grim’s throat lifted the hairs on the back of her neck. But he shook his head hard, said something to himself she didn’t understand, and stood to leave. Rhett pulled her into the house and locked the door behind them.
“He means well,” Rhett said.
“Really?”
“No.”
She snorted a laugh. Okay, most of today shouldn’t be funny, but he had a way of lightening any situation. He was funny. “Just so you know, a sense of humor ups a boy’s hot-points by at least a dozen.”
“Only a dozen? That’s my only positive attribute.”
“Exactly, so your hot-points are at twelve.”
He snickered and led her through the small kitchen to a back bedroom. She was about to pop off again about how she really wouldn’t be licking his pickle tonight, but she swallowed her words down when she saw why he’d brought her in here. In the back corner of the room, hidden from easy view by a bed, there was a single guitar on a stand. Oh, she recognized it. Any girl who claimed to be a fan of his would. It was an old beat-up Martin acoustic guitar with a soft leather strap where he’d hand painted the words Country will never die.
The frets were all worn, and the fretboard scuffed from pressing strings on it for so many years. The thing was scratched and had a strip of camouflage duct tape along one curve. The pickguard was black and had been scuffed all to hell.
This instrument had seen music.
Real music.
