Claim the Bear by T. S. Joyce Page A

no-shows. I’m pretty sure I’m fired, and anyway, I can’t go back to work in Portland without seeing the pride again. I need a job here so I can make my own money.”
    “Oh. We have a small coffee shop. It’s a mom-and-pop, hole-in-the-wall kind of place, but when you’re ready, we can see if they’re hiring. Until you find work, I don’t mind buying you the things you need though.”
    And it seemed he really didn’t. Two pair of jeans, a pair of hiking boots he insisted she needed, a ten-pack of utterly un-sexy panties, three soft cotton sweaters, a toothbrush, toiletries and make-up, and Dillon didn’t even blink when he paid. Nor did he pay any attention when people stared at her. She got that reaction a lot because her freckles were so dark, but she would remedy that soon enough with the thick foundation he’d just purchased for her.
    “Do we have time to clean up before we meet your alpha?” she asked shyly. She really wasn’t trying to be a pain, but she wanted to make a good first impression.
    “Yeah. We’ll get some food in our stomachs too before we go over there. Bron is in Portland with his mate. She works from there, and has to go to meetings a couple of times a month with the television station she works with. They probably won’t be back for another few hours at least.”
    Relief and anxiety fought for space inside of her. She was glad she had more time before Bron would likely murder her, but the waiting was hard too. She was already ripping up the edge of the brown paper bag with all of her new things in it just to steady her pounding heart rate.
    Full dark had fallen by the time Dillon pulled in front of a modest one story cabin. It was covered in natural wood siding and the front stoop was adorned with stonework. The porch railings were stained instead of painted and piney wilderness surrounded the cozy home on all sides.
    When she turned her gaze on Dillon, he was smiling. It was the first one of them she’d seen on his face, and it froze the breath in her throat. He was even more striking happy than he’d been mad.
    “You like it?” he asked low, like her answer mattered.
    Afraid her voice would crack, she nodded.
    “I built it.” He canted his head and added, “Bron, Trent and I built it together after I bought the land.
    “Trent Cress?” She’d heard about him before.
    Sadness washed his smile away. “He died last year, and this was the last big project we all did together.”
    Her heart ached for him as she looked at the house in a different light. It wasn’t just beautiful. It was built on memories that were obviously important to Dillon.
    He took the bag from her hands and said, “Wait there.”
    She hadn’t any idea what she was waiting for, but he jogged around the front end of his truck and opened her door like gentlemen she’d read about in magazines. Her very own werebear in shining armor.
    “Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked. The answer mattered more than she could ever admit to him.
    Leaning on the door frame, too close and too far away all at once, he explained, “My mom was with a bad man and it made her sad. You remind me of her. I couldn’t do anything for her, but I can keep you safe. I know I can.”
    His answer was the sweetest, saddest admission she’d ever heard. She reminded him of his broken mother, which gutted her, but he could’ve dropped her off at the nearest rest stop today after he fake-claimed her, and he hadn’t. He’d treated her better than anyone had in her life, and her loyal heart latched onto him a little more.
    “I know I’m not what you want in a mate—”
    “Breshia,” he warned.
    “No, let me finish. I know I’m not what you probably imagined, and that this was forced, but if it’s friendship you want, I can do that. I’ll try my best to repay the kindness you’ve shown me today. And if you ever need the company of someone you connect with more, I’ll understand.”
    He looked utterly shocked.