The Soul of a Bear Read online

  Callused, rough fingertips brushed my arm from wrist to elbow and I smiled as the contact brought me back to the present. Paul wore an expression that told me just how much he understood what I had gone through, and he gave me a small, sympathetic smile before opening his mouth.

  “I understand. My dad skipped out before my little brother, Tommy, was born. I was four years old then, so I don’t remember much. My mom never tried dating again - never remarried. I had a few father figures in my life - my old neighbor being the most memorable. He once told me that I would never be as strong as my mom, but that shouldn’t stop me from trying. He was also the man that introduced me to what I do now - decorative landscaping and terrazzo.” A fondness invaded Paul’s smile, and I cocked my head as tender curiosity clung to my ribs like gum that’d been chewed too long. “I remember - I wanted him to marry my mom. I was eleven or so, I think. When I brought it up with him, the one and only time, he said he couldn’t because he was already married. Years later, he told me his wife had died in a car crash. Even though she was dead, he wasn’t going to betray her. For me, it really shaped how I looked at relationships.”

  My eyes stung at that story, and a wistful sigh escaped my tight throat. Across the table, Paul shook his head fondly, but he didn’t let the content silence spread for more than a second or two.

  “I guess I don’t hate my dad, but I’m glad he’s not in my life. From what my mom said, he was on his way to becoming a loser. She rarely talks about him - I feel like he’s just a terrible memory for her that she’s made peace with rather than trying to save face for me and Tommy.”

  “In that same way, I’ve always hoped my dad would just go and stay away. Everything would be more … resigned … I guess.” I spoke the words I’d never dared, before, and trained my gaze on the center of the table, letting the quiet stretch. I loved my father, and I wanted him to be in my life; but, I wanted all of him. If I couldn’t have that, it was easier for him to be gone. At least, now, I had someone that understood. All too often, I had heard the question, ‘Why don’t you want him around? He’s a good dad,’ even though he wasn’t.

  Not at all.

  Chapter Seven: Paul

  “Paul! Paul!” The scream caused my ears to twitch, over the sound of my tile saw, and I paused what I was doing to power down the dangerous machine. Straightening to twist, I yanked up my protective visor and caught sight of a very beautiful, very pissed off McKayla. Her pretty, sleeveless, pale-orange dress draped to her knees, giving me a clear view of her impatiently tapping foot. The clack of her heel against the concrete floor hit my ear drums like a judge’s gavel, and my expression screwed with guilt, as she crossed her arms over her impressive bust.

  “I swear - would it be easier for you, if I just showed up whenever I wanted to go out? Would that be easier, so I don’t have to worry about you forgetting?” I swiped my palms roughly down the front of my jeans and shook my head wildly before pulling off my visor. Half a dozen pairs of eyes, around the workshop, were glued on me, but the only ones I cared about contained white-hot flames.

  Not the good kind, either.

  “I didn’t forget … I just lost track of time, McKayla.” My excuse was weak even to my ears, and McKayla rolled her eyes in disbelief. After our little heart-to-heart about our parents, the attitude has come rolling back, when she’d requested a ‘proper’ date - as if a bowling alley wasn’t a great place for a date. Glancing at my watch, I frowned at the time the arms displayed before opening my mouth. “You’re a half an hour early.”

  “So?” McKayla arched her brows, daring me to argue, but I kept my mouth shut. There was something different about her - something dark; something in her eyes that told me she wanted a fight. I just shook my head and shuffled my way past her towards the office, contemplating what possibly could’ve happened in the past twenty-four hours.

  Off the floor and behind the safety of a solid, oak door, I leaned against my desk to stare at McKayla. As I could with Jon, I saw her beast in her eyes, and I pursed my lips into a thin line, as the tense silence grew between us.

  “What happened?” Mine was a simple question, but McKayla froze as if I’d slapped her. The blood drained from her cheeks, and my cheek twitched at the sudden reaction. “You can tell me, McKayla. I don’t think this is a particularly good way to start a relationship.”

  I was speaking truthfully. I crossed my own arms over my chest and crossed my ankles. So often, as I’d seen with Jon’s family, McKayla’s face flashed with hurt, but I couldn’t feel bad for what I’d said. Like many shifters, she thought that just because we were mates, I would take whatever she dished out.

  She was wrong, and I wanted to get this out of the way as quickly as possible.

  “My dad …” McKayla spoke the words with venom, and then tossed her hair over her shoulder in what I recognized as an uncomfortable gesture, before continuing. “He wants to meet you … to make sure - and I quote - ‘He’s got his shit together’.”

  My brows shot up at that, and an involuntary bark of laughter escaped my throat, to bounce around the room. McKayla stiffened across from me and I clenched my jaw tightly, shaking my head at her glare. I covered my mouth; I coughed to smother my fading laughter and she started to turn red, only a few feet away.

  “I’m sorry - I just … don’t care.” I wanted to laugh. I wanted to take McKayla in my arms and sully her shapely dress with dust and soot and maybe some other questionable substances. Gripping the edge of the desk, I let my head fall back for a moment and closed my eyes before continuing. “McKayla - I could not give a lesser shit about what your dad thinks of me. He walked out on you - that tells me all I need to know about him. I get it - you’re offended that he thinks he can go there. I would be offended, too. But, Babe - I don’t care about him or his opinion, or what kind of power he thinks he has in this. The only person I want to like me is your mom, and I’m pretty sure she does.”

  “How can you be like that? Doesn’t it piss you off?” All of that anger and affront had faded away into confusion, and I shrugged absently.

  “What good does that do? I mean - think about it, McKayla. You showed up to our date half an hour early, which only made you more pissed off. You made a bad impression on my employees, by throwing a tantrum on the floor - which is a very dangerous place to be in those shoes, by the way. Not to mention, you worked yourself up, into a bad mood on our first date because of your father, and that makes me really not want to go out tonight.” Carefully explaining what was going on was tough; McKayla wasn’t immature, she’d just never encountered a situation remotely akin to this, before. Slowly the confusion on her face turned to embarrassment, and even a little bitterness. I sighed heavily to relieve some of the pressure in my chest. “It’s okay. I mean it, babe - it really is okay not to like your father. But you have to learn not to let that stand in the way of your other relationships.”

  “I - I didn’t think about it like that … I just - he called, and my mom told him, and – like … it just made me so mad that I didn’t consider …” McKayla’s explanation trailed off without any real point being made and I ducked my head in a nod before she caught my gaze. “Do you really not want to go out now?”

  I considered the question for a long moment and McKayla grew more visibly worried as the seconds ticked by. Would I have reacted the same way she had in this kind of situation? Fuck yes, I would. Sucking in a sharp breath, at that acknowledgement, I blew it out in a gust, before nodding.

  “Yes, I do want to. Just give me a couple minutes to shower and change. I’ve basically been living here since that bullcrap with my apartment.” Pushing myself off the edge of the desk, I couldn’t help but smile at the relief that played on McKayla’s face. The tension eased in the air, and the crisis seemed to have been averted, as I gestured her to follow me into the back room. “I’ve decided to drop the place once I finish repairing it. It’ll take a long time - well beyond when my lease is up. I have to call in people to fix the pipes a
nd wiring and shit. It’s not worth the trouble.”

  “Where are you going to live, then? It’s gotta suck living in your shop …” I grunted in acknowledgment and pushed open a door, crossing into my makeshift bedroom. There was nothing but a cot and a suitcase to witness my terrible state of living, but knowing it was temporary eased the sting. The back room was mostly taken up by showers - there were only two stalls, and the law required them.

  Even considering all of that space, the room wasn’t half the size of my apartment’s living room.

  I crouched to rifle through my meager possessions and frowned slightly before opening my mouth. The only clothes I had left were the ones I’d taken with me to Alaska and they weren’t the best for a date.

  “I’m going to buy a foreclosure. I’ve got friends that owe me favors, so I won’t have to spend too much, and I can do whatever I want with it, without having to worry about my neighbors.” I grabbed my least shabby-looking, graphic t-shirt and jeans, and straightened to head towards the showers. The only thing separating them from my borrowed space was a sheet, and I tried not to think about how low I’d sunk before opening my mouth again. “Speaking of which, you never mentioned where you worked - or if you worked … Do you work?”

  “Sort of. I bartended and DJ-ed. That’s how I got arrested last week … I was working and the guy was a regular patron that was there with his cop buddy. Both of them were assholes. If it was anyone else, I would’ve just told them to go home and sober up.” Water gushed loudly from the overhead faucet, drowning out McKayla’s voice for a quick second, and I ran over what she’d told me from the holding cell. So, that’s what she was lying about.

  Having a cop on her ass, about something that was someone else’s fault, was something she didn’t want to divulge given the circumstances.

  Stripping out of my clothes, I let the cold water spear my skin without bothering to let it warm up first. In and out in less than a minute, I glanced over to find McKayla studiously looking anywhere else but my way, and a grin stretched my lips. She was trying so hard to be considerate, knowing what the mate bond would do once we fed it the tiniest crumb.

  It was adorable the way we both sort of just wordlessly decided to go on at least one date before giving in.

  “Where are we going, anyway? You never told me.” The storm seemed to have officially passed, and I dried myself quickly before shoving my feet down into my jean’s legs. Once again, I was beyond glad I didn’t have to worry about hair, but the feeling was fleeting as McKayla posed her question.

  “This place I worked last year. The owner was so pleased she gave me free meals for life, and it’s normally crazy expensive. Their reservation list is booked a month in advance, and their walk-in section always has a line out the door - sometimes for hours.” I deliberately didn’t mention how incredibly lucky I’d gotten; that the place had got a cancellation that they hadn’t filled when I’d called. Bringing McKayla to this particular restaurant was a two-faced coin; I wanted to bring her somewhere nice, of course, but I also wanted to show her what kind of work I did. Her happy surprise was written all over her face, as I sauntered out of the showers, and I grinned as I pulled my shirt over my head. Taking her long, slender fingers in mine, I headed back through my office to grab my wallet and keys with a lightness in my chest.

  Chapter Eight: McKayla

  I stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the incredible scene before me. I couldn’t even begin to comprehend how stupid I must’ve looked. All I could see - all I could realize - was the amazing sight that engulfed my field of vision. I should’ve known not to be too shocked when I saw the intricately carved, marble archway that led to the ground-level reservation floor of the two-story restaurant.

  Nothing could’ve prepared me for the absolute masterpiece that lay spread out, in a visual feast I couldn’t get enough of. The floor was a shimmering mix of black, bright reds, and flecks of oranges - it was as if a dark opal had been melted onto the surface. Soft lighting made the most of the flooring, but as my gaze trailed over the sleek glass protecting it, I made a second, more profound discovery.

  There was a real, running stream cutting right through the center of the floor. Large, smooth, polished, light-gray rocks lined either side and the water flowed a bright, fiery reddish-orange. Whether it was because of lights or dye, or both, the water created a current whose branches spread out from the main brook and up into the walls. Water trickled from expertly disguised and hidden tubes, like a rock wall at a sushi place.

  “This is way better than a sushi place …” I spoke the first thing that came to mind, and I blinked hard, only to realize what I’d said. Paul’s laughter bounced around me, deep and heavy, and I blushed hard as he squeezed my waist. He must’ve understood where I was coming from and he smirked at me broadly with pride shining out of every pore on his face.

  “I’m glad you like it.” Paul didn’t say anything else before a slight commotion from his right caught our attention. I peeked beyond him, from under furrowed brows and watched as several waiters glanced our way, whispering amongst themselves, before a short woman pushed her way through them. Even from so far away and over the live violin music that played, I could read her lips as she told her staff to get back to work.

  When she came over to us, she was all smiles, and she grinned at Paul and me, equally, before holding her hand out to him.

  “I was wondering when you’d be coming in, again, Paul. I read about your brother on the police’s social media - I thought maybe you’d bring your mom again.” Just like my father, Paul’s brother seemed to loom over him like a shadow he couldn’t get rid of. I glanced at the man next to me as he shook the woman’s hand and licked my lips anxiously, only to be blindsided when she turned to speak directly to me. “It’s wonderful to meet you. I’m Elizabeth, and I own this place. Is this your first time here …?”

  “Uh – McKayla … yeah, it is. I actually never thought I’d come here … I’ve seen this place on the news a few times.” For the first time, I noticed how young Elizabeth was; she couldn’t have been much older than I was. Her bright, healthy, blonde hair was pulled into a tight bun, and her smile was just as vibrant when she turned it on me.

  “Well, I hope you like it here, ‘Uh - McKayla’.” Winking animatedly, Elizabeth’s little joke pulled a giggle out of me, before she gestured us to follow. “Right this way, please.”

  The table Elizabeth gave us sat at the end of the stream, as it emptied into a small pool to be recycled. I smoothed my dress against my lap from nerves. Everything around me was so nice, and knots formed in my belly as I looked around. The sheer amount of money people were wearing, let alone spent here was insane; that much was clear with just a quick scan.

  “Did Elizabeth surprise you?” My eyes whipped to Paul and widened at the teasing smirk he wore. I nodded dumbly. His shoulders were relaxed and his body lax in his seat. He didn’t seem at all perturbed by what he was wearing. I pulled my lower lip between my teeth and took a deep breath, holding it for a few moments before exhaling through my nose.

  “I - she’s… she’s kind of young, right? I mean, I just didn’t expect her to be … her.” Failing miserably to explain myself, I felt heat creep up my neck as Paul smiled wider.

  “She has that effect on everyone. I remember thinking the same thing when she hired me for such an expensive project. When I came on the job, she’d already been through two or three other contractors because they wouldn’t accept that she knew what she wanted for this place. They thought she was just headstrong and young, and that she didn’t understand the scope of the project.”

  “You mean she designed this all herself?” Surprise colored my voice, but Paul shook his head as he picked up his fancy menu.

  “No, but she knew what she wanted. She knew what she wanted everything to look like - to feel like. All I did was fill in the blanks, like color, design tweaks, what would make for the best impact. Elizabeth is insanely rich, so she didn’t have a problem wi
th price. That being said, I managed all of this quality at about three-quarters of what the other contractors wanted. I know it doesn’t sound like much that way, but it was almost a million dollars.” My eyes widened at that, and Paul glanced at his menu, as if that kind of money was within the realms of his wildest dreams.

  I didn’t grow up poor, and I wasn’t poor at the moment, but a million dollars was still hard to comprehend.

  “That’s … I - … wow … How long did it take?” Almost desperate to get my mind off the price of this place, I dragged my fingertips down the fabric edge of my menu before carefully flipping it open. The print was elegant but easy to read, and I found myself pleasantly surprised at the options. I browsed the available dishes and the word, glad, couldn’t describe what I felt when I realized I knew what most of them were.

  “A year and three months from start to finish. I’d initially estimated it to take longer, but we had surprisingly snags. I think everyone involved was so focused on pleasing Elizabeth, so they’d get a bump in high-profile works.” My mouth twitched in a smirk at Paul’s explanation, even as it watered, and I narrowed my eyes on a steak salad plate to scan the ingredients. “I was expanding into residential, but this is the place that got me into commercial.”

  “It’s amazing – and it’s amazing that you can do something like this. I remember - when I was, like, eleven. I wanted to be a professional soccer player. I’ve always been good at it, and I was in leagues when I was growing up, but the middle school I was going to had team try outs. I was one of the lead midfielders.” I paused as a waitress in a sharp, crisp uniform sidled up to the table. I glanced away from my menu and to her face. Her usual, peppy greeting phrase went over my head, and I fingered the edges of my menu absently before my inner beast rustled in the back of my mind.

  Taking a soft breath through flared nostrils, I cocked my head slightly as I held her scent in my lungs. She smelled… heavy, but I couldn’t understand how. Gradually, my senses sharpened, and my eyes widened as realization came up on me like the impact from a brick to the face.