Bear with Me (Double-Booked for the Holidays #2)

Chapter 1

OLLIE

Big guys got window seats. That's what my mom taught me. We paid extra for assigned seats, and if we wanted more leg room, we sat in the emergency exit row.

This was only my second flight ever. My stomach already felt like it was going to drop out of my body, and we hadn't even started taxiing yet.

When I told Mom I was flying to Pinevale, Oregon, for the holidays, she was ecstatic. I'd been avoiding taking a vacation almost as long as I'd been avoiding commercial flights. She celebrated the win, thinking she'd talked me into it, but then her voice turned sharp. "What dates did you say?"

I'd specifically avoided the dates. The way she asked questions always came with a heavy threat of broken kneecaps if I gave the wrong answer, even though she was hundreds of miles away and had never raised a hand to discipline me in my life.

"December 23 to January 4." I was a big guy with a bass speaking voice, but I squeaked like a teenager on the last number.

"You'll be in Oregon for Christmas?" Now it was her turn to sail into the soprano range.

"Ollie! What are we supposed to do without you?

You're the oldest! You always …" she launched into my Christmas chore list, and I tuned her out.

Many of the tasks were necessary winter upkeep around my parents' house.

It made sense for me to do them while I was home, such as clean the snow off the roof and de-ice the gutters.

I was the oldest of seven boys, and as my chore list grew, my brothers' responsibilities stayed the same as when they were still in high school.

They all sat around watching movies and playing video games while I froze my tail off outside.

As an adult brown bear shifter, my little tail hugged close enough to my body it didn't freeze off, but still, it was damn uncomfortable.

I loved my family, I did, but all six of my brothers had graduated from high school.

All but Walter had gone on to college or trade school, same as me.

My youngest brother, Zander, lived in the same town as my parents.

He'd gotten married in the spring, and his omega husband was expecting their first baby in a few months.

Like the rest, Zander was perfectly capable of doing a few chores around the house when he stopped over, which was far more often than I did.

It took me five hours to drive home for the holidays, almost as long as my flight. This would be my first real vacation in ages where I didn't have to do anything I didn't want to do.

Well. Once the plane landed, anyway.

I gripped my knees and squinted my eyes shut.

My right elbow rested on the middle seat's armrest. Thankfully, no one had taken the seat, so I had even more room to stretch once I dared to move from my semi-fetal position.

I pushed the button to flip the armrest up.

Without it, I would have a little more room.

A delicious scent tickled my nostrils. I looked up and locked gazes with the most beautiful human omega I'd ever seen.

Brown hair tumbled over his tanned forehead.

Thick eyebrows crowded beautiful almond-shaped brown eyes.

His gaze darkened the closer he got. When he continued past my row, I thought I would never see him again.

"There's no room in the overhead bin," the flight attendant said behind me. "You'll have to put your bag under the seat in front of you. If it won't fit, we'll need to check it."

The gorgeous man returned to my row and made a frustrated noise in his throat. "Excuse me," he said.

The Black man with gray highlights in his thick afro at the head of the row stood and shuffled into the aisle. The gorgeous omega shoved his backpack under the middle seat, bumping my shoe in the process.

He didn't say he was sorry, but I couldn't hold that against him. He was late to board, which probably meant he'd been stuck in Chicago traffic. The snowstorm hadn't been substantial enough to delay flights, but it had made the roads slippery, which meant wall-to-wall traffic on the freeways.

He threw himself into the middle seat, and I released the button on our shared armrest, leaving it in the down position. I pulled my hands into my lap, but I couldn't help the spread of my shoulders, and there was nothing I could do about my elbow hanging over his side of the armrest.

He was as tall as I was, which shouldn't have been a surprise, considering where we were seated. For a peaceful moment, I was grateful his shoulders weren't as wide as mine. He fit easily within the confines of his assigned seat.

Then, he knocked his elbow against mine. For someone so bony, he was strong. He shoved me hard enough that my other arm thudded against the side of the plane. I glanced up at the emergency door light to make sure we hadn't accidentally popped it open.

"Please be careful," I said. "I don't want to go flying out this door."

"Maybe you should have thought about that before taking up two seats!"

I angled my body in the seat so I could glare directly at him.

He was human, which meant he couldn't smell the bear shifter on me, and he wore a fancy suit on an airplane, which meant he either thought he was important, or he didn't have time to change out of his work clothes before catching the plane.

He radiated rage. My bear wanted to be angry right back at him.

Instead, I inhaled deeply and counted to ten the way Grandma Beardsley had taught me. Being the oldest of seven boys hadn't always been easy, but my grandma was an anger management counselor. "I apologize for taking up so much space," I said on my out-breath.

"Next time, buy two tickets," he grumbled.

Did people really do that? I'd balked at the price of one. If I made this a yearly trip, as I wanted, I'd need to book well in advance to afford the airfare.

While I was pondering my response, the man dismissed me by turning his head to the other side, exposing his throat to me. I leaned in for a sniff.

My bear wanted to claw his way out of me right here on the plane to meet this jerk, possibly to tear him apart. He had a larger personal space bubble than this entire plane, but he'd never had such a visceral reaction to a human before.

Thankfully, the plane roared to life below us, and my bear retreated when we started rolling.

He would be fine in the air, but he hated anything with wheels when he wasn't the one driving.

I parked at the station and rode the L or the subway most of the time to appease him.

Railcars had wheels, too, but they felt more like ice-skating to him. He loved ice-skating.

Since I couldn't be on the ice and in the air, I compromised with a hockey romance. Once we were cruising at 35,000 feet, I pulled my e-reader from my inner coat pocket and did my best to ignore the roar of the engine, though I could still hear it over the music playing in my earbuds.

An hour or so later, the flight attendants rolled by with the snack cart.

I glanced over my shoulder at the jerk beside me to see how he was holding up.

The old man on his other side was sound asleep on his shoulder, which looked incredibly sweet until I saw the look of horror on my neighbor's face.

Huh. Served him right. I returned to reading my book until the attendants made it to our row. I flipped down the tray table and waited for my turn.

"I can't believe how small your bottles of vodka are," my neighbor said with a scowl. "I'll take three of your highest proof. Here's my card."

"Sir, we told you when you boarded, we will not be serving alcohol on this flight."

"Not even if I pay my own way?"

The flight attendant shrank back from his glare. "We don't have any alcohol to give you," the attendant on the other side of the cart said. "Didn't you see the news this week?"

I'd ignored most of it, thinking it was human business. I didn't drink alcohol, since my shifter metabolism would burn off the effects before I felt anything at all.

"Some college girl dies on a flight, and that's somehow my fault?" He sounded desperate.

"She died of alcohol poisoning." The attendant's voice was low and exuded patience that would have made my grandma proud. "Until her parents drop their lawsuit or the airline settles, we'll be a dry airline. I'm sorry for the inconvenience." She turned to me. "What can I get you, sir?"

"Water, please."

"I'll have a water, too," the man beside me grumbled.

"Perfect."

She tried to hand the first cup of water to me, but he reached for it instead, tipping the glass. Water splashed onto my arm, immediately absorbing into my flannel shirt. A droplet fell on my e-reader, and I hastily brushed it off on my pant leg.

"I'm so sorry, sir." The flight attendant tossed a handful of napkins at me while glaring at him. When she tried to hand the next cup to me, I pointed at him instead.

"It's about time," he said. By the time she finished pouring the next cup of water and handed it to me, he had already drunk his. He held up the empty plastic glass. "Refill?"

The ever-professional flight attendant couldn't roll her eyes at him, but I did. I was done giving this guy the benefit of the doubt. Some people were just assholes, albeit stunningly beautiful and nice-smelling ones.