Bear Fur Hire (Bears Fur Hire #2)(7)

Fuck, he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t afford to lose his head over a woman over the damned pink color in her cheeks. Sure, she was a stunner—dark hair, honey-colored eyes, tan skin, and pouty lips he wanted to bite. Even her pajamas were f*cking adorable, flannel with tiny hearts on them, clinging to her curves and making it real hard to stand still when she was so close to him last night. Lena what’s-her-face was the first woman he’d allowed into his room in…well…ever.

Jenner shoved his feet into his boots and sighed in irritation. Okay, he hadn’t allowed her into his room, per say. More like she’d barged in unannounced and ignored him completely when he told her to leave, but for some reason, her gumption made her more interesting.

And his bear’s interest in her wasn’t good for anyone involved. He needed to stay neutral with her, distant even, because growing feelings for her was not only dangerous to the woman, it was a recipe for disaster with his bear when she left. He just had to get through the tour, let her take pictures of a few of the less violent, two-year-old grizzlies, and bring her back here. Then send her on her way, no feelings, no strings.

Jenner shoved his pant legs over the tops of his tied boots and nodded. Plan made, he could do this. Lena was just another woman. When his bear growled his disagreement inside of him, he swallowed the snarl back down. Shut up, monster.

Outside in the great room, breakfast was on. Lennard had gone all out with bacon, biscuits and gravy, scrambled eggs, and waffles. Waffles?

“Morning,” he murmured to Lennard and the other guides. He forked a waffle and held it in the air. “You only bring out the waffle-maker on special occasions. What gives?”

Dalton and Chance were busy shoveling breakfast into their maws, but Lennard shoved a magazine across the wooden island countertop toward him. “I told you she was a big client, dumbass. You went off on one of the big-shot photographers for Bucks and Backwoods.” He jammed his finger at the tiny white lettering in the bottom corner of a full page photograph of a black bear sow in a forest. There was a small amount of gray on her muzzle, but her eyes were forward and interested, and in the background was a small cub following behind her.



Photo Credit: Colleen Rhodes

Bucks and Backwoods Magazine, 2015



“Oh, shit,” he murmured, pulling the magazine closer.

“Yep, and give me that waffle,” Lennard gritted out, yanking the fork out of Jenner’s hand. “You’re in the doghouse, and dogs don’t get my world-famous waffles.”

He muttered on about how his grandma’s recipe wasn’t going to be wasted on ill-tempered tour guides who chased away big clients. Jenner stopped listening. Several pages of the magazine had been dog-eared, and each one had a picture that Colleen, aka Lena, had taken. She was good. Better than good. And Jenner remembered all these photos because he read Bucks and Backwoods from cover to cover every month when he had downtime between tours.

“Where is she?” he murmured. Please say she hasn’t left.

Lennard jerked his chin toward the giant picture window in the great room behind Jenner. “Out there. Go tell her breakfast is on and apologize for being a dipshit while you’re at it. The last thing we need is bad press in her magazine.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll bring her in.” Jenner walked out of the lodge, magazine still in his hand because he was feeling fifty percent bad for the way he talked to her last night and fifty percent dooped that she hadn’t just come out and name-dropped herself.

She was near the river, knelt down, shooting a photograph. He should announce his presence because she definitely wouldn’t hear his naturally quiet footsteps, but right now, she had him stunned. She wore a pair of jeans that clung to her curves and a V-neck sweater the color of late season blueberries that made it real easy for him to see the top part of her full breasts. But while his attention usually stopped at a woman’s figure, his body’s instant reaction to the rest of Lena shocked him to his bones. The early morning sunlight shone off her dark hair and drew his attention like a shiny lure in front of a fish. She’d put it up in some sort of black rubber band, high at the back of her head, and her ponytail cascaded to her shoulders in soft waves. The bottom few inches of her hair were lighter by a shade, a subtle auburn color in the saturated light, as though she’d paid someone to dye her hair that way. He hadn’t noticed it in his dim room last night, but he liked it. Wanted to touch it just to see if it was as soft as it looked. And if his attention on anything other than those perfect tits of hers wasn’t driving him insane enough, when she adjusted her position, the wide neck of her shirt exposed part of her collarbone near her neck. His favorite f*cking part of a woman, and now his fingers were itching to touch her skin as well as her hair. Lock it down, Silver.

“What are you taking pictures of?” he asked as he approached.

She startled and stood so fast she fumbled with her camera and almost dropped it. “Oh, dear goodness, you scared me.” She gripped her little picture-taker to her chest and looked him up and down. “How are you so quiet? You’re the size of a barn.”

Right now he was. If she saw him right out of hibernation, she wouldn’t look so impressed. He’d been packing on weight and muscle for two full months already and was going to get even bigger as the warm season went on.

He lifted the magazine instead of answering. “Colleen Rhodes. Why didn’t you tell me?”