Boarlander Beast Boar (Boarlander Bears #4)(5)

Mason leaned out the window at the intercom and said, “I’ll have three number ones, no onions, a large vanilla shake, and one of those apple fried pies. No…two of those.” Mason twisted around. “What do you want?”

“Oh, my gosh,” Beck said, cracking a grin. “That was all for you? What a pig.”

Mason narrowed his eyes to angry little slits. “Boar.”

“I’ll have a cobb salad with light Italian dressing.”

“God, are you one of those dainty fancy-pants women always counting your calories? Sipping on water, and then you’re like, ‘I’m stuffed.’” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “So boring.”

Actually, she’d eaten an airport burrito a couple of hours ago and this food run was more for him than her, but he could think what he liked. “I’m boring? You ordered a vanilla shake. Vanilla.” She shot him a challenging look but took the bait. “And I’ll have a small strawberry shake.”

Mason smirked and put in her order, then changed his to a strawberry shake, too. Competitive much? She hid a private smile as she logged onto Cora’s shifter site from her phone. Beck was helping run it now that she was officially on the payroll.

Yelling carried on the wind. A chant. “Cage the shifters…stop the epidemic…” A group of twenty or so walked a tight circle in front of the hardware store a couple doors down. Beck’s stomach curdled at the picket signs. One was of a bear with Xs for eyes and its leg in a giant trap. Get them before they get us.

Mason had his head carefully turned away, too, but his shoulders had gone rigid. Before she could change her mind, Beck reached forward and slid her hand over his tense arm. He was even harder than she’d imagined. Mason froze under her touch, didn’t move a muscle for a moment, then leaned forward and out of her reach. “My people don’t like touch,” he said in a voice that was low and growly.

How sad. She couldn’t even imagine a life without physical affection. Sure, her marriage had been like that, but she’d had Ryder, and he loved cuddling. Another deep ache cut through her stomach just thinking about him. Blinking hard, she hit her ex’s speed dial and waited for the tenth time since she’d come to Saratoga to hear it ring and ring until his voicemail came on. “Hey, this is Robbie. If this is a booty call, leave a message. If this is Beck, f*ck off.” He’d always been so charming.

She plastered an empty smile to her voice, because screaming never worked with him. “Hey Robbie. I really wish you would change your voicemail. And maybe pick up your phone because I’ve called a bunch of times, and this isn’t how it’s supposed to work. I’m supposed to be able to talk to him still, just like I always let you talk to him when he is with me.” She sighed deeply and prayed for patience. Robbie had been the worst decision she’d ever made. “Anyway, please call me back. I’m starting to worry. Okay, bye.” She hung up the phone and relaxed into the back seat. Another flash of blue, and she caught Mason’s eyes in the rearview again.

“Your husband?”

The last thing in the world she wanted to do was talk with Mason about Robbie and all the hurt and betrayal. She wasn’t even sure if he was nice yet, or if he would judge her.

“You got a kid?” The SUV in front of them pulled forward, so Mason coasted up a car-length, too.

“So, I was thinking we should do more in the community,” she said, typing away at her phone as she answered a question from the website about shifter hearing. “A bake sale or something, and give the profits to charity. I could call up the local news station and set up a couple of interviews—”

“I’m not doing interviews. How old is she?”

“I have a son, and why no interviews?”

He turned in his seat and locked eyes on her. “Because trust me when I say you don’t want my people coming up into these mountains to retrieve me. It’s best if we stay quiet about my whereabouts.”

“Why would your people come after you? Did you piss them off?”

He chuckled darkly. “You have no idea.”

“Do you have kids?” She’d tried to research Mason, but his page on Bangaboarlander.com had been taken down a month ago. Even when it had been up, the picture of him was grainy at best, and all it had said was, Good at f*cking. Good at money. Great third best friend. Wow, she couldn’t believe she still had that memorized.

“No kids.”

“Ahhh. A happy bachelor, no attachments. I get it.”

“No, it’s not like that. I want ’em. I just can’t have ’em.” A frown marred his face in the reflection of the rearview mirror. “I don’t know why I just told you that.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, hunching at the angst in his voice. “Why can’t you?” Good grief, what was wrong with her? That was so rude to ask a stranger.

Mason swallowed audibly. “I’m what my people call a barrow. The Barrow, actually. With real pigs, that would mean a castrated boar, but with boar shifters, it’s just a title they give to males who are sterile.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t talk about this stuff. Please don’t let this conversation leave the truck.”

“Of course. Was it…?” Stop talking! “Was it from an accident or something?”