Alpha Bear Princes Box Set Page 10

  Her stomach did a little flip. She loved tall, big guys. She hated being bigger than her date--not that she'd had many of those. She wasn't exactly the kind of girl guys asked out often. Usually, men lumped her into one of two categories: "drinking buddy" or "doesn't exist." With guys like the architect, it was always "doesn't exist."

  Samuel--or maybe Hank had called him Sam?--had jet-black hair shaved close to his scalp and a face full of dark, sexy stubble. His cheekbones were high and striking and perfectly set off his deep blue eyes. His chest was broad and she could make out the outline of ropy muscles underneath his jacket. He was almost too attractive. Like an underwear model who'd stepped right out of the pages of a magazine. Which, considering he was smart enough to be so successful, meant he was probably a dick. The pretty ones almost always were.

  "You must be Frankie," he said, holding out his hand and smiling a broad smile that somehow had her fixated on his teeth. How did anyone have teeth so white? He'd probably bleached them, which meant he was vain too. At least he had a right to be vain. He was even hotter up close. Like Mr. Universe in the flesh. Frankie was finding it hard to concentrate. His hand was still extended, but she hadn't said a word.

  Finally, she held out her hand to shake, but realized she was still holding the pencil--the pencil that was currently covered in her drool.

  Gross. What was wrong with her? Apparently, she'd been taking lessons from her bulldog, Sandbox.

  Quickly, she shoved the pencil into her back pocket and swiped her wet palm against her jeans. "Yeah, I'm Frankie," she said, gripping his hand in hers. She'd learned to have a strong handshake in this business and she gave it everything she had. "You're Sam, right? Nice to meet you."

  She moved to pull away, but he held her hand in his. "I have a confession to make," Sam said. "I was expecting Frankie to be a man."

  "Yeah. People do that sometimes." He still wasn't letting go. What was with this guy?

  "What is that short for? Francine? Francesca?"

  "Yup. Francesca. But the name always seemed about ten times too fancy for me." It was a quip she said often to new people, and it usually got at least a chuckle. But Sam was looking at her like he was completely confused.

  And he was still holding her hand. Frankie felt herself squirm at the idea and finally managed to pull away.

  "I hope it's not too forward of me, Frankie, but are you busy this evening? I'd love to take you out on a date."

  Okay, now she was hearing things. She really needed to get more sleep.

  "You want to take me on a date?" she asked, her voice laden with skepticism.

  "Very much, yes."

  Now she had this guy's number. He was a prankster. He thought it'd be funny to hassle the new girl, give himself a little laugh. And wouldn't the crew just get a kick out of that?

  A few of them were hovering nearby now, clearly snooping.

  They were probably in on it, waiting to howl in laughter the moment dumb-old-Frankie said yes. Maybe they'd even put him up to it. It wasn't the first time she'd been teased like this, and she wasn't about to let his little joke rile her.

  She waved curtly at the onlookers, raising her eyebrows to tell them she was no fool. Then she turned back to the architect.

  "Listen, Mr. Ryan," she said. "I'm very thankful for the business and all, but my delivery service doesn't come with any extras, if you know what I mean."

  She watched his olive-toned skin blanch, watched his eyes spark to flames. It almost made her think he had been serious about the date. And for a split second, she imagined what it might be like if he wasn't playing a prank on her. Of course she would have loved to go out with a guy as handsome as Sam. But she had to get real. He was way out of her league.

  "I didn't mean to imply that you were required to say yes to me as my contractor," he snipped. "I certainly wouldn't want that."

  The angry tone of his voice only confirmed her suspicions further. Not only was he trying to make a fool of her, he was pissed she wasn't falling for it.

  "Well, good," she said. "I'm glad we've got that straight." She lifted her clipboard. "Are you ready to review your order now, or should I find Hank?"

  "I'm sure Hank will be happy to help you," Sam said, then turned on his heel and practically stomped away like a spoiled toddler.

  She tried very, very hard, but couldn't quite keep herself from checking out his ass as he left. And damn, it was so good she almost wished she hadn't looked.

  Almost.

  Chapter Three

  Samuel

  Sam couldn't walk away from her fast enough. He charged past the work site, charged straight into the forest.

  When he was far enough away--a good fifteen minute walk from the worksite--he stripped down to nothing and let out a fierce growl. The growl began as a human voice, and ended as a bear's. He felt a bone-cracking sensation as his limbs grew stocky and strong. He felt a million needle-like punctures as burly hairs grew thick and dark on his back. He felt his nostrils flare and broaden, felt the pads of his hands grow rough.

  The transformation took only seconds. When he landed on all fours, he ran. It was his favorite thing to do, and he needed to do it now. He'd been such a fool, asking her out like that without even knowing anything about her other than the very basics. No wonder she'd been so pissed.

  It was a rookie move, something he might have done when he was a gangly thirteen-year-old, coursing with uncontrollable hormones--not a full grown man. But somehow, she'd had a knee-jerk effect on him. In her presence, he could think of nothing else but making certain he knew when he would see her again.

  That sure worked out well for him.

  What had he been thinking anyway? She was a beautiful woman and he was, well ... this.

  It was the same problem he'd always had with women. The fact that he could turn into a bear was his most painful secret. It was something he'd hidden his whole life. Even though he'd researched in libraries and online and studied magical lore, he'd only met one other person who was like him--his legal guardian, Agatha. As far as he knew, they were the only ones. Perhaps his real parents, too, but Agatha refused to talk about them.

  He bounded up a hillside, forcing himself to his limits as punishment for his stupidity. His muscles were aching and his heart was pounding when he finally reached a section of ground that leveled off. He collapsed to the forest floor, rolled in the dirt until he was splayed out, sunshine warm on his belly.

  What had come over him back there? He'd never felt so attracted to a woman in all his life. Sure, it had been a while since he'd been with anyone sexually. But he'd been around plenty of women since, and had never felt a pull quite like that one. It felt different, singular. It felt like it had come from somewhere deeper than his mind, deeper than his cock even--though he'd certainly felt her effects there. It felt deeper than anywhere in his physical body. It had felt like it came from his bear.

  Even now, so far away, and on his first prowl in days, all he could think about was turning around and trying to make it back before she left. But it was definitely too late for that now. He'd been running for at least an hour and it didn't take nearly that long to unload a truck of lumber. She was long gone.

  But he knew that wouldn't be the last he'd see of her. He'd have to do some research, figure out where she lived, where she liked to hang out. Maybe he could casually drop by a few of those places tonight, see if he could run into her.

  Jesus. What was he saying? He didn't want to stalk the poor girl, he just wanted to see her again. He had to see her again. He felt as though he was going mad with the desire to be at her side. And he knew, no matter what it would take, he would find a way to make it right with her. Somehow, he'd do it.

  As long as he could stop acting like a randy teenager long enough, that is.

  Just as he had the thought, he had an instant realization that he wasn't alone. There was another creature nearby. Something--something big--was closing in on him in wide, looping circles. Immediately, he twis
ted to his stand on his paws and took a stance that was ready to pounce.

  He sniffed. Was that ...?

  He thought he smelled a bear on the wind. But there was something else mingled with it too, the two scents mixed together so intricately he could swear they were coming from the same beast: a human.

  It couldn't be. Could it?

  Sam felt his heart speed up and his breath go quick. And in that moment, the animal parted the trees and lumbered through. It was a bear all right. An enormous polar bear. And this wasn't exactly Iceland.

  #

  The two of them circled each other for a moment, both equally wary of the other. The polar bear wasn't pure white--more of a light tan. But he was big. Not bigger than Sam, but still big. Eventually, Sam grew tired of circling. If there was another shifter in the world, he had to know it. As vulnerable as it made him, he looked straight into the bear's eyes, held up his paws, and transformed back into his human self.

  He kept his hands up as he backed away from the giant polar bear--even more imposing now that Sam was in his smaller human form. Then, in a flash just as quick as Sam's had been, the other bear twisted and morphed right before his eyes.

  He was human--blond and pale and blue-eyed--but a shifter just like Sam.

  Sam was speechless. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. For so long, he thought he might be one of the last of a dying breed. He'd searched and searched for anyone--anything--like him, but had never found it beyond Agatha. And now that he was out on his property, laying around like an idiot, another shifter had stumbled on him. What were the chances?

  "I'm Vic," the guy said, his voice gravelly but grinning. "Who are you?"

  "Sam."

  "It's good to run into another shifter out here, Sam. There don't seem to be many in the area. I was beginning to think I was all alone."

  "You know other shifters?" Sam asked in awe.

  Vic cocked his head, confused. "Don't tell me you've never--am I the first one you've ever met?"

  Sam shrugged, suddenly feeling strangely inadequate. Was he supposed to know others? Was it just a given that there were so many of his kind that you would? The prospect both excited him and made him feel like a kindergartner in college.

  "Yes," Sam admitted. "This is ... a bit of a shock."

  Vic whistled, his eyes growing wide. "I'll bet. I don't get it. What happened to your clan? Where are your people?"

  People? Clan? Vic spoke like there were herds of them, packs out roaming the plains.

  "I don't have any people. I'm adopted. An orphan," Sam said. It never felt like an adequate description of his upbringing. Agatha was technically his legal guardian, but the two of them had never been close. He'd raised himself more than she'd raised him. "But you do? You have family? You know others like us?"

  "Yeah, I've got family," Vic said with a laugh. "I've got too much family. You want some of them?"

  The joke was so normal, it made Sam angry. This guy was taking for granted something that had eluded Sam his whole life.

  Vic seemed to sense his misstep. "Sorry. I didn't mean. I just--I've never met anyone without a clan. This is super weird."

  "No shit," Sam said.

  They stood there awkwardly for a moment.

  "How many?" Sam asked. "How many more like us?"

  "I don't know, man. I'm not exactly a population expert. I'd say at least ten thousand, though? That's in the US. Not sure about other countries."

  "Jesus Christ." Sam was so taken aback that he sank onto a nearby boulder, his elbows on his knees.

  "Look, man. I feel like a real asshole. And I'm sure you've got about a million questions, but I have somewhere to be. Why don't we grab a beer Thursday night? There's a place in town called Three Sisters Tavern. Meet me there at six, and I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

  #

  After Vic had left, Sam had taken a moment to let everything sink in. Then he had shifted back into a bear and headed toward home.

  As soon as he was dressed and human again, he walked onto the work site. He supposed he'd been gone for about two hours, and a lot of progress had been made in his absence. It was exciting to see.

  He breathed in the crisp, clean mountain air as he watched workers framing the walls to his new home. Already, the footings and foundation had been dug and poured, all the service lines had been laid, and the driveway had been cleared from the main road--a full half mile to discourage trespassers. Now the fun part was starting--the framing was where he could see the actual home take shape.

  It might have been a bit excessive for a single man, but Sam was of the opinion that a home should be built correctly from the start. And what if he were to have a family one day? He wanted the home to be able to accommodate his present as well as his future.

  And so he'd designed it on the large side. When it was finished, it would have five bedrooms, each with their own bathroom. It would also have a large cinema room, a modest gym, and a wet area with an indoor single-lap pool--he loved to swim--and a wide indoor hot tub to soak in after he'd been out for a good prowl. He was having the hot tub built custom. They didn't typically come in sizes that could contain his bulk. In fact, every part of this house was being made with his size in mind. The ceilings were taller than standard, the doors wider, and the cabinets and countertops set higher. It would be awful for resale value, but Sam didn't care. This place was for him.

  He sought out Hank, his foreman, for an update, and found him reviewing some blueprints on the east wall of the structure.

  "Nice work here today," Sam said.

  "Thanks," Hank said gruffly. What was that about? Hank was usually very friendly with Sam.

  "You think we'll get to the supports tomorrow?" Sam asked.

  "Yes, sir. It appears we will." Hanks voice wasn't only gruff, it was laced with anger.

  Sam was confused. "Oh, come on, there's no need for a 'sir' around me. You know that."

  "I think I'd prefer it, if you don't mind." Again, his voice was like ice.

  Now Sam was just getting pissed. "Look, did I do something to offend you?"

  Hank raised himself to his full height. He wasn't a tall man, but some men had a certain dignity, a certain presence, despite their stature. Hank was one of them. "To be honest, no one found your little joke on Frankie to be very funny. She's like a sister to most of us. And she deserves to be treated with respect."

  "Joke? What are you talking about?"

  "Asking her out like that. In front of everybody, just so they'd laugh at her. It was cruel. And I thought you were a better sort of man than that."

  "It wasn't a joke," Sam said, exasperated.

  "Sure, buddy. And I'm the Queen of England."

  That made Sam want to roar. He looked directly in Hank's eyes, suppressing the desire to take him by the collar and throw him against the wall. "Why wouldn't I be interested in her? She's fucking gorgeous. And from the sounds of it, she's smart as hell too. If you can't see that, maybe you're the one being cruel."

  Hank seemed taken-aback by his response. He stood there, studying Sam in silence.

  "You're serious? You really want to take her out?"

  "Of course I do. Why the hell else would I ask her?" Sam fumed. This guy was getting on his last nerve. "If anything, she was the one who got a laugh out of it. I've never been turned down so fast in my life."

  "Well, I'll be damned," Hank said, grinning. "Look, don't take it personal, okay? Frankie's just like that. She grew up around boys all her life. And she's surrounded by them now. It's almost like she is one."

  Sam could argue quite vehemently that she was nothing close to a boy. Far from it. Every curve of her delicious body screamed "woman" in capital letters.

  "But if you really want to take her out," Hank said. "Then I've got an idea."

  Chapter Four

  Francesca

  Frankie came home into her crowded living room where her three older brothers--Eddie, Jamie, Mikey, and Mikey's girlfriend Becky--were already l
ounging. Even their bulldog, Sandbox, was in the mix--warming up her favorite armchair and waiting for a cuddle.

  "We made dinner for you, sis," Jamie said, motioning to the beer and pizza boxes that were spread out on the well-worn coffee table.

  "And even put it in a fancy box we painted ourselves," Mikey piped in, his arm hung around Becky. Becky was a sweet girl, and pretty too. Small and blond, the kind of girl Frankie would never be. But Frankie liked her anyway. She was practically part of the family. All five of them had bonded together, creating a new little family after first Frankie's mother, and then her father had passed away. The first from cancer, the second from a heart attack only last year.

  "Slaved over it for hours," Eddie piped in. "Because that's how much we love you."

  Frankie rolled her eyes and grinned. "I'm truly overcome with gratitude."

  Their home wasn't fancy, but it was comfortable. It was where they'd all grown up and where they still lived together now. Frankie grabbed a hot slice and was just about to sink into her favorite arm chair for some much-needed TV-zone-out time when her cell buzzed.

  "Hey, Frankie. Hank here. Listen, I hate to bother you after hours, but we got some things we might need you to special-order first thing tomorrow."

  "That's no problem," Frankie said. "What do you need?"

  "That's the thing. We're not sure. We could use your advice. Would you mind meeting us at Three Sisters in about twenty?"

  "Who's 'us?'"

  "Me and Sam," Hank said.

  "That asshole's gonna be there?"

  "Give him a chance, Frankie. I think you two got off on the wrong foot. He's not half bad."

  "Which means he's not half good either," Frankie quipped.

  "There's a beer in it for you."

  "Fine," Frankie grumbled. "I'll see you in a bit."

  She really didn't feel like this tonight, but she was in no position to turn down business. With all the big box stores popping up everywhere, her dad's legacy was losing ground every year. Frankie was determined not to let it die. She'd been trying to target her business to people just like Sam: high-end builders who were looking for more distinctive items instead of the run-of-the-mill stuff you could get anywhere. Impressing him would go a long way in building her new reputation.