A Bear to Hold (Kodiak Mates #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

CHARLOTTE

The road to Bear Cove, Alaska narrowed as I headed north.

Anchorage had long since faded behind me, civilization shrinking in my rearview mirror. Mountains soared in all directions, and the rental car’s heater blasted hot air, keeping the crisp mid-November weather at bay.

So far, the snow the gas station attendant had warned me about was holding off.

“Lots of equipment back here,” he’d said as he filled my tank. The sign above his station had boasted “Last Fuel for 70 Miles.” Maybe it was simply good marketing, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

“Yes,” I said, pulling my work credit card from my wallet. “It’s for research.”

The attendant squinted through the rental’s back window, surveying the collection of sensors and computer monitors. “Research, huh? Not much to study around Bear Cove.”

Excitement leapt in my chest. “That’s exactly why I’m here. I’m a conservation biologist. The area around Bear Cove is an ecological anomaly.”

The attendant raised bushy white eyebrows. His matching beard descended toward a red flannel, giving him more than a passing resemblance to Santa Claus. “An eco-what?”

Scientific jargon hovered on my tongue. I pushed it away, searching for a layman’s explanation. “On satellite, Bear Cove appears to be missing its wildlife. I’m here to find out why.”

The fuel pump clicked, and the attendant clicked his tongue at the same time. He turned his blue gaze to the sky, a look of irritation crossing his weathered features. “Aliens sticking their noses where they don’t belong.”

It took me a second to realize he was serious. “Aliens…”

He gave an affirmative-sounding grunt as he replaced the nozzle. “Been studying us for years. Decades, probably.” The attendant nodded toward my equipment. “You’re unlikely to get much use out of that in Bear Cove. Nothing there but a bunch of mountain fellas who keep to themselves.”

“I’ve heard that, yes.” I pushed my glasses up my nose before handing him the credit card. “I booked two weeks at the bed and breakfast.”

The attendant pulled a surprisingly sleek-looking card reader from his pocket and swiped the card. He waited for the beep, then handed the card back to me. “Well, good luck to you. And be careful. Alaska isn’t like other places. Things aren’t always what they seem.”

The road curved sharply, and the memory fled as I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. But another memory intruded, an image of Dr. Henry forming in my mind. “You’re going to change the world, Charlotte. I’m certain of it.”

The road curved again, and Dr. Henry’s face faded.

But his words lingered. He’d repeated them often over the past nine years.

The first time he said them, I was fourteen and drowning in a sweater two sizes too big at an academic conference for gifted students.

I hadn’t felt particularly gifted. On the contrary, I’d felt completely out of place surrounded by brilliant teenagers from all over the country.

The other students didn’t share a cramped room with three foster siblings.

Their clothes weren’t from a thrift store clearance bin, and I had no way of knowing, but I was pretty sure none of them had ever used a plastic grocery bag as a backpack.

But test scores didn’t lie, and mine landed me a dream come true in the form of a full scholarship to Colorado State University. Dr. Henry had been happy to serve as my advisor—and something of a surrogate parent as I navigated college and grad school.

The rental hit a pothole, jarring me back to the present. I eased off the accelerator as buildings appeared between the thick trees lining the road. Cabins were tucked among the evergreens, which stretched at least a hundred feet toward a blue sky. Seconds later, more buildings came into view.

But not too many. A handful of quaint shops clustered on either side of a tiny main street, their clapboards painted bright colors reminiscent of a Swiss village. Smoke drifted from chimneys. At the end of the street, a three-story structure with a wraparound porch sported a small wooden sign.

Bear Cove Bed and Breakfast

The excitement I’d felt at the gas station returned, and my heart pumped faster as I pulled into the small parking lot.

According to the Census data I’d read before I left Colorado, Bear Cove was home to just sixty residents.

It was the sort of place where everyone knew everyone’s business and people were generally friendly.

But every phone call I made went to voicemail. Every email I sent went unanswered.

Until I booked a stay at the bed and breakfast.

The building’s windows winked in the late afternoon sun.

Gingerbread trim flanked the porch, which boasted a swing with tartan-covered cushions.

Flower boxes nestled under the windows, evergreens and pinecones spilling over the sides.

The place was like a Christmas card brought to life. All it needed was a layer of snow.

Grabbing my backpack from the passenger seat, I left the car and headed toward the porch. Gravel crunched under my boots, and a light breeze nipped at my cheeks. Sunlight warmed my shoulders even as my breath puffed in the air.

Carvings of leaves wrapped around the thick pillars flanking the porch steps. The wood was solid under my feet as I climbed the staircase and crossed the porch. A small bell tinkled as I pulled open the door and stepped into a foyer.

Immediately, heat enveloped me, along with the scent of cinnamon and apples. A sitting room to my right held a leather sofa, dark bookshelves loaded with books, and a large stone hearth crackling with a cheery fire.

“Hello?” I called out, tugging my backpack higher on my shoulder.

Footsteps thumped, and then a man appeared around the corner at the end of a short hallway.

Although, man was hardly a fitting description. Giant was more appropriate. Because he was massive, his shoulders so wide they nearly brushed either side of the hallway. He had to be well over six-and-a-half feet tall, but his height wasn’t his only striking feature.

His wavy, salt-and-pepper hair was slightly mussed, as if he’d just run his fingers through it. A closely trimmed beard that was more silver than black covered his square jaw.

But it was his eyes that made me catch my breath. His irises were a light gray, the color almost metallic in the sunlight streaming through the sitting room’s windows. They flicked over me now, taking in my ponytail and backpack, before crinkling at the corners in a warm smile.

“Welcome to Bear Cove,” the giant rumbled, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. “I’m Beck Antonovich. You must be Charlotte Mills. I got your reservation email last night.”

For a moment, language deserted me. Abruptly, I realized he stood with his hand extended, and I was staring at him like an idiot with my mouth hanging open.

“Yes,” I said, taking his hand. A jolt of electricity pricked my skin, startling a yelp from me.

Beck released me at once. He stepped back, and a furrow formed between his brows. “Sorry. Static builds up in the winter.”

“That’s all right,” I said, my fingers tingling.

At five-foot-eight, I was hardly small, but I felt downright delicate next to him.

The registration confirmation had been generic, with no mention of Beck’s name.

Then again, in a place as small as Bear Cove, he probably wasn’t worried about me mixing him up with someone else.

Not that I could. Beck Antonovich would stand out in any crowd.

He cleared his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “We don’t get many guests this time of year. Your email said you’ll be here for two weeks?”

“Possibly longer. And I apologize for the late booking. University grants are hard to come by, and I didn’t receive funding until the last minute.”

The lie settled like a weight in my chest. Grants were hard to come by, but my research had been funded for months.

No, I’d held off booking the bed and breakfast on Dr. Henry’s advice.

He was experienced when it came to dealing with isolated communities hostile to outsiders.

As he always said, “It’s harder for them to say no when you’re standing on their doorstep. ”

I had to hope Beck Antonovich was a “yes man.”

The fire popped, and I yelped again. God, why was I so jumpy? Heat bloomed in my cheeks as a spicy, masculine scent wafted around me. His cologne.

Something flickered in Beck’s eyes. “I’m sorry, did you say you might stay longer than two weeks?”

“If that’s okay,” I said, resisting the urge to point out the empty parking lot and obvious lack of guests. “I’m here to conduct research. Experiments don’t always go according to plan, so I might end up staying a bit longer.”

Beck ran his silver eyes over my backpack again. “You’re a researcher,” he said slowly.

There it was. The subtle note of skepticism. The unspoken who do you think you are, little lady? I’d heard it enough times over the years to know condescension and dismissal were likely to follow. People—usually men—saw my age and decided I wasn’t worth taking seriously.

I squared my shoulders. “I’m a PhD candidate at Colorado State University, where I work full-time as a conservation biologist. Bear Cove appears to be dead center in a faunal exclusion zone that extends for at least ten miles.

Alaska’s wildlife is precious. Protecting their habitats is part of my job.

” Slinging my backpack around to my front, I pulled my university ID badge from the front pocket and held it out.

“I know I appear young, but I assure you, Mr. Antonovich, my credentials are legitimate. If you have any questions, my doctoral advisor, Dr. Rupert Henry, will be more than happy to speak to you about my research project.”