Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
BECK
Istood at the kitchen window, my gaze on the gold and pink dawn smearing the sky above the mountains. The snow descended halfway down the peaks. More would come. It always did.
I’d slept poorly, my thoughts returning again and again to my unwelcome house guest. Charlotte Mills was a problem.
And in more ways than I cared to admit.
Steam rose from my coffee mug in a lazy curl. The rich, bitter scent mingled with the aroma of evergreen that drifted from outside. The various scent signatures of my brothers drifted, too, each one unique to the bear who bore it.
After eighteen months as alpha, I’d learned to pay attention to subtle shifts in the clan members’ scents.
Smoky undertones usually indicated anger.
Fear was acrid. Hints of sweetness meant contentment, while sour notes signaled illness.
Keeping it all straight was a full-time job.
It was also a job I’d never expected to take on, especially at age fifty.
Some days, I felt every one of those years. Other times, the weight of responsibility made me feel twice that. But the clan was thriving.
Everett Laskin had his mate, Skyler, and their eight-month-old son, Wyatt. Everett and Skyler were perfect for each other, their bond growing stronger every day, and their cub giving hope to every bear in the clan.
Then there was Cal Boyar, the head of Bear Cove’s search and rescue team.
He’d never expressed any interest in settling down until Margot Sutton showed up in town.
A werewolf princess running from a forced marriage, she’d been looking for a safe place to ride out the scandal.
I’d asked Cal to keep an eye on her. Nothing more.
But two weeks ago, Cal took a bullet for her in Anchorage. When Everett and I burst into their hotel room, Margot’s scent had been everywhere. All over Cal…and all over the sheets.
Under normal circumstances, I’d have shut it down immediately. Bears and wolves couldn’t mate. Our genetics didn’t allow it.
Except Cal was head over heels. I’d never seen him look at anyone the way he looked at Margot Sutton. The clan needed cubs, but it wasn’t fair to deny Cal happiness, even if that happiness was doomed to be temporary.
My phone buzzed on the counter. I picked it up and peered at a snippet of text from Everett. Swiping the screen, I read the rest.
Heads up. Your new guest is legit. I read some of her scientific papers last night. She’s brilliant. I dug deeper, and it turns out she was a child prodigy. Graduated high school at 14. Got her master’s degree at 21.
My jaw tightened. I’d hoped Charlotte Mills would be an amateur—someone I could politely scare away with a few well-placed warnings about Alaska’s dangers.
Another text appeared.
She’s 23
Christ. Twenty-three years old. There were twenty-seven years between us. Not that it mattered because I had no business thinking about her as anything other than a customer.
Dots filled the screen, and then a third message followed.
Her advisor is Dr. Rupert Henry. He’s a notable geneticist
Well, that explained Everett’s interest. He was a medical doctor, but he’d earned a PhD in genetics.
He put his training to good use testing blood samples of human women to learn if they were compatible with bear shifters.
I didn’t understand a bit of it, but even a child could see that his work was impressive.
If he said Charlotte was brilliant, he meant it.
Setting down my mug, I typed out a response.
Thanks for the info. Do me a favor and check on Cal.
I hesitated, then continued typing.
Tell him to get his ass to Seattle before I put him on a plane myself
Everett’s response came a second later.
You got it, boss
I pocketed my phone and returned to my coffee. New scents made me pause with the mug halfway to my lips.
Mint toothpaste.
A faint whiff of antiseptic layered with florals. Deodorant.
And something sweet and earthy almost like…honey.
No. Tuberoses. The aroma filled the kitchen, the distinctive perfume spreading through the space like a blooming garden.
My bear stirred under my skin. My cock tightened, and my heart sped up.
The stairs creaked. Stifling a curse, I set down my mug and turned just as Charlotte entered the kitchen.
Stunning. She was goddamn stunning in the morning sunlight, her red hair pulled back in a low ponytail that trailed over one softly rounded shoulder.
Her creamy skin glowed, her cheekbones stained with a natural blush.
Wire-framed glasses perched on the bridge of her slightly upturned nose, giving her the look of a bookish fairy.
Thick lashes framed wide brown eyes behind the lenses, and more pink touched her full lips.
Hiking pants hugged her trim, athletic body.
Her black, long-sleeve athletic top emphasized her small, high breasts and narrow waist.
She was young enough to be my daughter.
Shoving away that thought, I cleared my throat. “Good morning. Coffee?”
She darted a look at the coffee maker, and a grateful smile made her eyes light up. “Please.”
I gestured to the breakfast table under the bay window. “Have a seat. I’ll pour you a cup.”
She obeyed, and I busied myself fetching a mug and gathering cream and sugar.
I placed everything in front of her, earning another big smile.
Her teeth were straight and white, her nails neat and short as she wrapped her fingers around the steaming mug.
Little golden studs winked in her earlobes, the color the same as the tiny flecks that dotted her irises.
My bear stirred harder. The scent of tuberoses filled my lungs, the heady aroma going straight to my cock.
I spun and marched to the stove. With my back to her, I pulled out a frying pan and flipped on a burner. “Sleep well?” I asked, hearing gravel in my voice. I cleared my throat again. Get it together, Beck.
“Better than I have in a long time,” Charlotte said. “That bed is amazing.” When I looked over my shoulder, she sipped her coffee. Her eyes widened as she lowered the mug. “This is amazing, too.” Another sip, and she licked her lips. “Where did you learn to make coffee like this?”
I jerked my gaze from her mouth. “Just practice, I guess.” The experience of age.
Shoving away that unhelpful thought, I swung back to the stove.
“I’m making eggs for myself, but I’ll get you that muffin or banana if you want.
” I risked another look over my shoulder.
“Fair warning, though, my eggs are just as good as my coffee.”
She laughed—a husky sound that stroked over my nape. “I’ll have eggs, too.”
Nodding, I got to work, adding bacon and toast to the mix. Going through the familiar motions gave me something else to focus on besides the way her scent had my bear surging close to the surface.
But I still needed to get her out of Bear Cove as soon as possible, especially now that I knew her credentials.
“What kind of research is on the agenda today?” I asked without turning around.
The soft clink of her coffee mug on the table reached my ears, followed by the subtle creak of wood.
She must have leaned forward. And I wasn’t going to think about how that motion probably shifted her breasts.
“I’ll set up my first monitoring stations,” she said. “The ecological dead zone extends for at least ten miles in all directions from Bear Cove. Satellite imaging has shown a complete absence of wildlife.”
“Hmm,” I said, lifting the edge of the frying eggs with my spatula. Butter popped in the pan.
“I have a few theories,” Charlotte said, excitement in her voice. “I’m particularly interested in magnetic fields and unusual geological formations. Both of those can affect animal behavior and migration patterns.”
She continued, speaking of soil samples and thermal imaging and half a dozen other things I barely understood. Her scent warred with the aroma of bacon and toast, the honey-laced florals invading my lungs as I plated the food and turned back to the table.
She pushed back her chair. “Oh my gosh, I’ve been droning on when I should have offered to help.”
“No worries,” I said, sliding a plate in front of her and waving her into her seat. I smiled as I sat with my own plate. “Like most cooks, I don’t want anyone else touching my stove.” I nodded toward her food. “Eat while it’s hot.”
She flashed a grateful smile, picked up her fork, and dug into her eggs. Her eyes widened again as she chewed, and she groaned around the bite in her mouth.
My bear shoved at the invisible bonds that kept it in check. Charlotte’s scent swirled thicker. Butter glistened at the corner of her mouth.
Christ, what is wrong with me? But a little voice in my head whispered the answer.
I ignored it.
Charlotte swallowed hastily. “You weren’t joking about your eggs. Are you sure you aren’t a professional chef?”
Heat built under my skin, the compliment warming me more than it should have. “Nope,” I said, lowering my head and stabbing a forkful of my own eggs. “But I’m glad you like them.” I ate quickly, willing my bear to behave itself.
Charlotte turned back to her food. “I’m really glad I passed on that muffin.”
For the next few minutes, we ate in companionable silence, the clink of cutlery the only sounds in the kitchen.
“What will you do today?” Charlotte asked after a moment.
Try to convince you to leave town.
I set down my fork and wiped my mouth with my napkin. “This place keeps me busy.”
She waited like she expected me to elaborate. When I didn’t, she blinked at me behind her glasses. “With…?”
Reluctant humor threatened to pull a smile to my lips. She was a nosy little thing. “Laundry and cleaning,” I said. “If the weather holds, I might do some work outside.”
She tilted her head, curiosity in her brown eyes. “Do you like it?” She glanced around the kitchen. “Running a bed and breakfast, I mean.”