The Bear's Virgin Bride (Honeypot Darlings Book 3) Read online

  The Bear’s Virgin Bride

  Sophie Stern

  Copyright © 2016 by Sophie Stern

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover design copyright © 2016 by Melody Simmons // ebookindiecovers.com

  Contents

  The Bear’s Virgin Bride

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Keep Reading

  About the Author

  Staff Sergeant Polar Bear

  1.

  2.

  3.

  4.

  5.

  6.

  7.

  8.

  Epilogue

  For my readers

  May you find your bears

  Chapter 1

  Micah

  “Welcome to our ranch!” Savannah says with a smile. She looks at the gathered tourists who are standing around with duffels and visors, backpacks and coolers. Everyone is happy and excited to be here. Everyone is looking forward to their shifter-friendly vacation, courtesy of the Blair Ranch.

  “Thanks for having us!” One enthusiastic visitor hollers, and everyone laughs. I just roll my eyes. It’s just another day on the ranch. It’s just another day where I have to be around people and shifters and pretend I can handle the social aspect of my job.

  Savannah goes over the list of ranch policies and lets everyone know how to behave, where it’s okay to shift, where the kids can play, and when mealtimes are. Although most of the visitors will hang out on their own, either in cabins or in the woods, a few will want to participate in group activities. Savannah and Hope handle that aspect of the ranch.

  Me?

  I’m the tech guy.

  Watching from the porch for a few more minutes, I finally decide I’ve seen enough and head back inside. It’s always the same, anyway. Savannah tells everyone what to expect, then there’s a weekend of fun followed by a few days of clean up. Sometimes people stay for a week or two, but most of our visitors just come for the weekend. It’s good to get away from the city for a few days, they always tell us. It’s good to be around other shifters.

  I close the door to my small, one-man cabin and head to my desk. I have a few hours before my next social media update goes live, but I like to stay ahead of schedule as much as possible, so I write up a few new posts for the ranch’s social media sites. Then I open my graphic design program and create a couple of pictures to go with them. While having interesting posts is important, pictures are even more important.

  Studies have shown that Internet users like to share pictures with their friends. This means that if they share a picture we post, other people will like and follow our pages, which results in more visitors and more business.

  It’s genius, really.

  It’s the easy part of my job.

  The hard part is dealing with people when they do come stay at the ranch.

  I can’t complain. My brothers and I worked to make this tourism business a reality for a long time, but now that it’s here, now that we’re actually in the midst of getting things going, I’m realizing it’s a lot more emotionally demanding than I expected.

  Then again, I’ve never really fit in with my brothers.

  Wyatt is the muscle and Carter is the heart of our family. Me? I’m the brains, but I don’t feel like it. I’ve always been the computer guy: the geek. I’ve always been the one who doesn’t quite fit in. I’ve always been the one who is just a little bit different, but lately, I’ve been feeling it even more.

  It’s probably because my brothers both have wives and families now. I keep telling myself that’s the reason I’ve been so lonely. I know it’s not true, though. Their happiness has no bearing on the way I feel.

  I’ve been lonely for a long time.

  I’ve just never done anything about it.

  I’ve never had a reason to.

  Now that I can see what my life might be like someday, now that I can see what I could have if I tried hard enough, though, now I’m thinking it’s time to get off my ass. It’s time to start trying to find someone. It’s time to start trying to find a mate.

  Once I finish my obligatory social media posts, I do a quick Internet search for the latest and most popular dating sites for shifters. They’re all a scam, really. They’re all just awful.

  “Bear shifter seeks strong, fertile mate to build a family with,” I read aloud, then start cracking up. Are these people for serious? There’s another one that reads, “Wanted: Male with brown fur, brown eyes, and brown paws. Must like hockey. Must read books at least twice a week.”

  “Nothing like creating a checklist for the perfect mate,” I mumble, and I keep scrolling through the ads. I’ve thought about creating an account on one of these sites many times, but somehow, I just can’t bring myself to do it.

  Love shouldn’t be something you create from a list of characteristics. Love shouldn’t be something you have to fit into this box of perfection. Maybe I’m too old fashioned. Is that my problem? Do I believe in true love too much? Do I believe in the one-and-only thing too deeply to find someone?

  Maybe I’m destined to be alone.

  I don’t know.

  I hop up and grab a beer from my mini-fridge, and then I keep scrolling through ads. Each post looks the same: someone wants to find a mate they can be with forever. It’s not that weird, really. It just proves everyone wants to be with someone. No one wants to be alone. Not forever. Not indefinitely.

  There’s something to be said for being single. It’s nice to not have to be responsible for anyone but myself. It’s nice not to have to worry about other people, but what if I’m ready for that? What if I’m ready to start worrying about someone else? What if I’m ready to start living for someone else?

  My brothers don’t understand. I could never tell them how I’m feeling these days. They’re both so happy with their families. I could never break their hearts by telling them I’m jealous. They would either feel like they’ve let me down by moving on with their lives and leaving me behind or they’d try to set me up with every shifter in Honeypot.

  I don’t need either one of those things.

  Nope, the only thing I need is a beer, my computer, and a nap.

  I need a nap.

  Everything looks better after a nap.

  ***

  On Monday morning, I head into the kitchen at the main house. All of our weekend guests are gone and I’m ready for a low-key, quiet breakfast. I love the tourists who come by our ranch to get away from their regular lives, but I also like it when they go home and things return to my version of normal.

  “Hey, sunshine,” Hope greets me. She turns around from where she’s standing at the sink and smiles. She pats the head of my nephew, Josiah, who is resting in his sling.

  “How’s my favorite sister-in-law?” I ask, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

  “What’s this now?” Savannah asks, coming in the back door. She’s my other sister-in-law, but I’ve known her longer. I’ve known her forever. It was only a matter of time before she and Carter got together. Now that she’s in the family, it feels like she was ne
ver not a part of it.

  “I was just telling Hope how much I love and appreciate both of you,” I say, giving her a kiss on the cheek, too. She laughs and slaps my shoulder.

  “You’re something else, Micah.”

  “Here,” Hope hands me a plate of pancakes I didn’t even see her preparing. “Everyone else has already eaten, but we saved you some.”

  “Thanks, sis,” I take the plate and plop down at the table. Eagerly, I start to eat. There’s nothing like home cooked food in the morning, and Hope is a damn good cook.

  “What are you doing today?” Hope asks Savannah.

  “I’m heading into the shop in a few minutes,” she says. Savannah has her own trinket store in Honeypot. Now that she and Carter are married, she lives at the farm in the main house with him, their son Colby, and Hope and Wyatt. And Josiah. Basically, everyone lives in the huge freaking house but me.

  That’s fine, though.

  My parents have their own mini-cabin, too, so I’m not the only loner at the Blair Ranch anymore. Not that I minded that much before. I didn’t: not really. I like solitude and having my own space.

  I like the quiet, the peace, the room to think.

  Growing up with my brothers, things were always loud and noisy. Sometimes, I just needed to get away and be by myself. Sometimes, I just needed to get away and think, and be. When I was a kid, I’d hide from the chaos in my closet. I’d make a little cave in there with blankets and books and a flashlight. I’d even bring in food, much to my mother’s dismay.

  “Do you want us to get ants?” She’d ask me with a frown, but the corners of her lips would twitch, almost like she was fighting a smile. I knew then that she wasn’t as angry as she made me think she was.

  No, most of my childhood was spent chasing cows and dodging noise. When I could get time to myself, I’d play computer games or design websites. As a teen, I loved making my own Internet sites. I’d have amazing little graphics and share fun facts about things I was interested in. I’m sure no one actually looked at any of my websites, but I loved doing it. I loved creating.

  I didn’t love ranching.

  That’s always been my problem, and it still is.

  I bite into the pancakes my sisters-in-law made. They’re delicious, and I savor every bite, but all the while I’m dreading the work I’m going to have to do today. Fencing has never been my thing. Chasing cattle? So not interested.

  But websites?

  Programming?

  Social media management?

  These are things I understand.

  These are things that are valuable and important to me.

  These are things I’m good at.

  And as I finish my breakfast and head back to my cabin to get working on our ranch’s monthly newsletter, I can’t help but feel like there’s something wrong with me. I’m so different from my brothers that it must be wrong, but I just don’t know how to change.

  Chapter 2

  Evelyn

  I speed down the narrow road, trying to see through my tears. It isn’t a safe way to be driving: that much is obvious. What’s less obvious was what I’m going to do, how I’m going to do it, or how I’m going to be able to afford it. My eyes avoid the rearview mirror as I drive, but it’s hard. Every few minutes I’m tempted to look, to peek at the swelling, to see what I’ve endured.

  The bruises are darker than I thought they would be. They’re a sign of what I’ve suffered, of what I’ve gone through. And it was all for what? To be a bride? To get married? To find my “one true love”?

  Some joke that turned out to be.

  I shake my head as I cry, trying to erase the memories of the last few months. A whirlwind romance gone wrong: that’s what it was. Dustin had been so sweet at first. When he proposed after just a few weeks of dating, I thought it was magical. I thought it was true love. I thought someone had finally seen me for me and not for the chubby girl with the glasses.

  I was wrong.

  I was so wrong.

  I turn down a side road and then another. I don’t know where I am anymore and I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. As long as I get as far as possible from Dustin, I’ll be fine. I just can’t go back. I can’t go back to him or what he’s become: a monster.

  He’s unrecognizable from the man I thought I’d fallen for. I just wish I hadn’t been so stupid. My mother had warned me. My father had warned me. Hell, even my friends had warned me.

  That was before he started slowly weeding them out of my life, though.

  That was in the early stages.

  It’s weird because our wedding was supposed to be coming up in just eight weeks. Two months, and I would be a bride. Two months, and I would be the woman he wanted to marry. Two months, and everything would change. Everything would be perfect. Everything would get better.

  I was wrong.

  I was stupid.

  I see a sign and turn down the road. Honeypot, it says. Honeypot, Colorado. I don’t know what kind of town Honeypot is going to be, but I’ll take a chance. I’ll do anything if it means getting out of the city. I’ll do anything if it means getting away from Dustin.

  Money isn’t something I have a lot of, or any of, so I’ll have to find a way around that. Rent-whoring, maybe? I could do that, I think as I drive. It would be ironic, given my status as a grade-A certified virgin, but hey, anything’s possible, right?

  I see a glowing light and I slow down. I’ve been taking the back roads for the last two hours, so I really have no idea where I am. I’m still in Colorado, but that’s fine. Dustin won’t be able to find me as long as I stay off the grid. As soon as I can, I’m going to change all my bank passwords and credit card PIN numbers so he can’t find me using those, either.

  It’s crazy, really, the way I trusted him. When he said he wanted to help me manage my finances, I believed him. I really thought his logic made sense. I thought he had some good ideas. I thought he cared about me.

  Turning over my passwords had seemed reasonable because I wasn’t adding him to my accounts, so what was the harm? He wasn’t going to ring up a bunch of debt in my name. I quickly learned that Dustin cared less about helping me manage my money and more about figuring out exactly how much I was spending when I went out with my girlfriends and exactly how often I saw my friends while he was at work and exactly how much I bought gas for my car.

  Why did I need so much gas, he wondered, unless I was visiting my parents after he told me not to?

  The fighting started slow, but then it built and built and built until today, in a freak expression of outrage, he completely lost any semblance of self-control. My guess? He was trying to wait until after the wedding to show his true colors so I’d really be trapped with him. Luckily, we aren’t married yet. Luckily, I can make a clean break.

  Or maybe I can’t.

  Maybe it’s wishful thinking to assume I could just waltz away and start a new life. Am I crazy for thinking that? Am I insane? Part of me thinks I’m nuts for not leaving him months ago. I should have known when he proposed so early on that it wasn’t love: it was obsession. I should have known this was going to happen. I should have seen it.

  As I draw closer to the blinking neon light, I see that it’s for an old motel. The sign says Vacancy, and judging by the state it seems to be in, I’m hopeful they’ll accept cash for the night. Eventually, I’m going to have to use an ATM, but I withdrew all I could this morning before I left town and took out a cash advance on my credit card. This money has to last me awhile. I can’t go spending it on fancy hotels or milkshakes.

  Fuck.

  What I wouldn’t give for a chocolate milkshake right now.

  Something tells me this isn’t the type of town that’s going to have a lot of 24-hour fast food options, though. It’s probably got a grocery store and maybe a gas station that closes at nine. Rolling my eyes, I park my car in the suspiciously empty lot.

  I get out of the car, bringing my purse with me, and the chill evening air hits me. It’s sp
ring, sort of. The last wisps of winter air are clinging, trying so hard to stay. Spring in Colorado doesn’t really get started until May, anyway. That’s why I refused to get married before then.

  I wanted a spring wedding: a real, legitimate spring wedding.

  Dustin pushed for us to elope, pressured me to just go to the courthouse with him and sign the papers, but I wouldn’t budge. He hated it, and I almost gave in more than once. I knew it was what he wanted, but I thought it was because he was so in love with me that he couldn’t stand the thought of us not being married.

  Now I know better.

  I head to the front office of the tiny motel. It’s the cheap style of motel, the kind that doesn’t ask a lot of questions, the kind where all the doors open into the parking lot. There’s a small office and I head for the door, only as I get close, I realize the lights are all off inside.

  “Fuck,” I say out loud, and I hurry closer. There’s a little white piece of paper taped to the inside of the door.

  “‘Sorry,’” I read out loud. “‘Closed for repairs.’”

  Why?

  Why is this just my luck?

  For a moment, I think about hitting the glass, but I don’t. It’s a good thing, too, because lights start to flash behind me and I turn and put my hands up. The cops. The cops are here. For a second, I think about running off into the woods and getting lost. It’s better to starve to death in the woods than have the cops bring me back to Dustin, right?

  Only, I know that’s completely crazy and insane. I’m just tired and scared. I hold my hands higher, hoping they’ll get the hint that I’m not looking for trouble.

  A lone police officer gets out of the car and starts walking toward me.

  “No need for that, now,” he motions to my hands, and as he gets closer, I can’t help but notice how handsome he is. There’s only one street lamp overlooking the parking lot, but it’s enough to showcase his strong jaw and deep eyes.