Page 19 of Coveted By the Bear

“Yes, right now,” he clipped out. “As soon as the clinic okays me, I’m going back to work on the rig. That gives us roughly two weeks to get this place in shape.”

“Okay,” I whispered, wanting badly not to disappoint him. “I’m ready.”

“You’re ready?” he asked incredulously.

I pulled the rubber band out of my hair and my dark locks slid back in front of my face. “I don’t have anything else to wear,” I admitted. I could feel my cheeks burning with the admission, but I stood my ground and stared his glorious eyes down.

His gaze faltered first, sliding down to rest on the ring of scars around my neck. His expression was unreadable, but he’d seen them before, so I didn’t cover them up. He already knew I was damaged goods.

“Come here,” he demanded quietly.

Part of me wanted to buckle against such a direct command, but a bigger part of me reveled in the sound of the deep authority in his voice. Caleb McCreedy was a capable man, and though I’d never admit it out loud, I trusted him.

I followed him into the kitchen where he began searching the plastic bags. I opened the fridge to see what it looked like to have a full icebox. It was a scene from a dream. Except…

“Caleb?”

“Hmm?” he asked distractedly.

“Why did you buy all of these tiny cartons of milk? It would have been cheaper to buy a gallon.”

“Here it is,” he said, ignoring my question.

A green cotton shirt flew through the air, and I snatched it with my left hand. I unfolded it and drew the soft fabric up against my chest. The color was pretty. Did he think about me when he bought the garment?

“My sister picked it out,” he said, looking at me with an unreadable, empty expression.

I wasn’t disappointed because I wasn’t surprised.

Caleb wasn’t here because he found me interesting or pretty. He was here to pay a debt.

Right now, I was learning a valuable lesson about the stubborn streak of an honorable man.

Chapter Seven

Caleb

I didn’t know why I told Mira my sister had picked out the shirt for her. I had spent an hour at Beall’s trying to figure out which shirt to get. I’d never cared about women’s fashion before, but I was torn between getting something nice for her and getting something she would accept. If I thought I had an icicle’s chance in hell of buying her more clothes and her actually letting me, I’d have done it and not thought twice. She had an empty closet going into a relentless winter. She had a need, and I wanted to fill it. Like with the fish I couldn’t help dropping at her door every time I changed. My instincts were only getting stronger, and thinking about taking care of Mira kept my animal side under control. Eli hadn’t had anyone to balance him out, no one to keep him accountable or give him a job that kept his animal focused. That’s why the old man had snapped, and I was going to do everything in my power to deter that fate for myself. And right now, taking care of Mira’s needs was what was keeping me sane.

As astonishing as my lie was about my sister picking out the shirt, it had given me an idea. Not a complete one, just the beginnings of a niggling at the edge of my brain that said I could do something about something. I’d have to explore it more later when Mira wasn’t sitting in the cab of my truck, fiddling with the radio.

An oldies station blared out the second chorus of “Eight Days a Week,” and she leaned back in the passenger’s seat with a sigh. She looked small and frail, cowering on the corner of the bench seat of my truck. Even with her choice in music, she still seemed uncomfortable and trapped. Like a raccoon in a cage. It was probably me making her feel uncomfortable. People in town had started acting differently around me, too. More wary. I blamed it on the bear residing under my skin. I rolled down the windows and hoped it would help.

We parked in front of Sam Burns’s office near the end of Main Street. “I’ll wait out here,” I told her as she escaped the truck and shut the door gingerly behind her.

Mira turned and placed her hands gently over the window opening. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

I opened my mouth to tell her she didn’t have to worry about being gentle with my ride. It was only a work truck, but she turned and scampered into Burns’s office before I could get a word out. It wouldn’t have mattered, anyway. If she wasn’t comfortable with something, she wouldn’t want to risk leaving any evidence she had ever been there. I didn’t know how I knew that, but I did.

Two older ladies sat in rocking chairs outside of the handmade furniture shop beside the lawyer’s office. I gave them a two-fingered wave out the window. “How are you doing today, ladies?”

“Caleb McCreedy. Lands alive, is that you?” Mrs. Brendel asked. She used to teach me in Sunday school when I was little.

The chair creaked rhythmically beneath her as she rocked, and the motion lulled me to relax despite my earlier tension.

“Yes ma’am, in town for some errands.”

The other woman looked back to the door of Mr. Burns’s office. I recognized her, too, but couldn’t put a name to her face. “Is my eyesight failing or was that Mira Fletcher I just saw get out of your truck?” the woman asked.