Chapter 10
JORDY
I had to be at the pub at three, so I had enough time to shift and run up the mountain. I didn’t want to spy on Laurel. The guy clearly wanted some alone time, but the stuff Monty had said rattled around in my head.
The chance of something happening to a person on the hiking trail around Beauville was low, but not nil. Laurel seemed inexperienced and stubborn enough to stray off the route.
Without deciding on it, I found myself trotting along the trail behind Frey’s cabin.
It was a narrow, winding path lined with blueberry bushes and covered in pine needles that muffled my stomps.
The markers were shaped like bear paw prints, which had been Monty’s idea.
As the parks and recreation officer at the town hall, he hadn’t had much work to do before, but that changed when Oliver pushed new projects through the council.
Monty was as excited as a kid when he got to run around the woods and nail the multicolored trail markers to stumps and tree trunks.
I sniffed out traces of Laurel’s scent on the path—he must have walked this way not long ago. I didn’t want to go after him and freak him out, so I left the trail and went higher up in the forest. I’d keep my distance, and if I saw something weird, I’d investigate.
After a while, I noticed a flash of red among the trees below. A backpack? It was moving.
I ran a little closer, and there he was.
A thin figure stood on the path, bent over, staring at his phone.
Laurel must have paused to check the map or something.
He nodded to himself, dropped the phone back into his pocket, and resumed walking.
He looked around, lifting his face, and his chest expanded with a deep breath.
He seemed fine.
Deciding to catch up with him later, I turned right and took a shortcut up to a viewpoint below Goat’s Horn.
As the tallest mountain in the range, it rose high above the tree line, and on a clear day, you could see all the way to Green Peaks.
Normally, I’d go up to the summit, but I didn’t have much time left if I wanted to check on Laurel before heading home to put on some clothes and go to work.
A rain shower came and went, but nothing too bad. I shook off the water, my fur barely damp. A few minutes later, weak sunlight made it through a crack in the clouds, and I paused at the viewpoint.
I loved fall the most. The maples and birches below still had some of their leaves, deep red and bright yellow, like confetti among the dark green of the pines and firs. The air smelled fresh after the rain, and thin wisps of mist rose from the grooves in the valley, like smoke signals.
Beauville sat below, its squat cabins huddled together, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy for those who had been born and raised here.
I was a guest, a newcomer, and even though I’d received the warmest welcome, if the good folks of Beauville knew about my past, they wouldn’t be as gracious.
Monty knew, but that was different. He didn’t have a judgmental bone in his body, and I’d been lucky to find a friend in him.
Hopefully, my luck would hold because this forgotten corner of the world was starting to feel like home. I never wanted to leave here.
The run stretched my muscles and woke me up. When I was descending the slope, hopping down boulders and jumping over branches, I was looking forward to opening the pub. It would be a slow day, but I liked those—it gave me time to chat with people.
I was headed toward the part of the trail close to Laurel’s own property, guessing he couldn’t have gotten much further unless he ran, when a blast of human scent made me pause.
Up here?
The trail was at least half a mile down below.
I sniffed and looked around. It must be Laurel. It smelled like him with a hint of chocolate. He was having a snack. But what had he been thinking, walking off the marked trail?
I followed the scent toward a small clearing. Laurel sat there, perched on top of a boulder, using a folded fleece jacket to protect his butt from the cold, damp stone. He drank from a thermos, and in his left hand, he held a half-eaten chocolate bar.
For fuck’s sake. This wasn’t a city park!
I marched into the clearing with an annoyed growl. He was about to get an earful.
Laurel took one look at me and slid off the boulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Shit!” he yelped.
Crawling backward, he fumbled for his belt. Bear spray.
Oh hell.
He didn’t recognize me. Of course, he didn’t. I’d just told Monty myself he wouldn’t.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbled, pointing the can at me with a shaking hand.
Don’t aim at my face!
Dammit. If I were an actual bear, he would have used the spray all wrong anyway.
You’re supposed to aim low to make a cloud between you and the bear.
Shaking my head, I sat on my butt and lifted my front paws in an appeasing gesture, doing my best impersonation of a circus animal. I felt like a loon. Don’t shoot, little human. I’m your friend.
I could shift, but I wasn’t keen on flashing Laurel.
He’d already seen me sucking Monty’s dick, so maybe he wouldn’t mind all that much.
But it was cold and wet, and we were in the middle of a wild forest. All my instincts screamed at me to stay in fur and keep my claws ready. I wasn’t shifting unless I had to.
Laurel stared, spray can still high up, but he didn’t release it.
“Hello?” he stammered shakily.
I waved at him with both paws.
“You’re a shifter?”
I nodded.
“Shit. Sorry. Sorry. You scared me.”
He lowered the can.
“Sure you’re a shifter?”
I rolled my eyes and opened my muzzle, sticking out my tongue at him.
He blinked, then let out a half laugh. “Jordy? Oh my God, your tongue is pierced even when you’re a bear?”
Where did he think the piercing would go when I shifted? The one in my eyebrow was hidden in the fur, just like the tunnels in my ears. I’d taken out my nose ring because that one became a hassle when I changed forms often.
I closed my muzzle and stood up, shaking off the leaves and pine needles that got stuck to my ass.
Laurel scrambled to his feet.
“I almost peed myself. Warn a guy next time.”
I gave him another growl and threw my head in the direction of the trail.
He looked sheepish. “I’m not supposed to be here, I know. But I saw the meadow from the trail, and I thought it would have a nice view. And I was right, see?”
I snuffled, jerking my head toward the trail again.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m going. I’ll pack my shit and get back down this instant.”
I didn’t move from my spot, watching as he folded the fleece and stuffed it into his backpack.
He found the rest of the chocolate bar in the moss on the ground.
He eyed it, poked away a spec of dirt, and threw the chocolate into his mouth.
It made me grin. Despite his fame and money, Laurel was no prince.
He also carefully folded the wrapper and put it in a zipper pocket on the side of his backpack.
He wasn’t a litterer either, good to know.
“I’m going,” he muttered again, and began traipsing down the hill.
Of course, after a few steps, he slipped on a muddy patch.
“Oh shit!”
He got up and patted the back of his hiking pants. A big brown stain adorned his ass.
“Eww. That’s cold.”
I made a sound, and he rolled his eyes at me. “Yes, you were right. I shouldn’t be going off the trail when I could break my leg and be eaten by mountain lions. Believe me, you scared me enough. Lesson learned.”
Slowly, he made his way back onto the trail. I followed behind him, making sure he wouldn’t hurt himself more than he already had.
Back on the path, he spread his arms.
“See, I made it. I’ll be a good boy now. Or do you feel the need to escort me all the way?”
I shook my head. Not knowing how to say goodbye, I nudged his shoulder.
Laurel let out a small giggle—a sweet, happy sound that made him seem younger. He was smiling widely, none of his usual moroseness left in his features.
“You’re a beast, man.”
And then he did the damnedest thing. He scratched me behind my ear and ruffled the fur on my head.
“But cute as hell.”
When he realized what he was doing, he pulled his hand away.
“Sorry. I swear I know you’re not a puppy.”
It wasn’t unpleasant, though. Quite the opposite. If I knew how, I’d ask for more scratches.
As a goodbye, I bumped his arm with my nose and took off down the slope.
“How come you get to run off-trail, huh?” he called after me.
It sounded as if he were still laughing.
It was Sedric’s turn to close the pub, so I came back home before eleven. I found Monty behind the bar in the breakfast room. He had all the bottles of alcohol spread out on the counter and was wiping the empty shelves.
Uh-oh.
Monty sometimes had these attacks of cleaning frenzy. It meant he was freaking out and didn’t know what to do with himself.
“Where’s our guest?” I acted all casual. I was good at it—years of training. With my elbow on the counter, I leaned in to inspect the labels on the bottles.
“Laurel went to check on the renovations on his property,” Monty replied. “His assistant picked him up after dinner.”
I pointed at one bottle. “This one has expired.”
Monty whipped around, gaping at me. “What? Which one?”
I couldn’t help it; I spluttered out a laugh. He was so freaked out, poor guy. “It’s hard liquor, man. When exactly do you think it would expire?”
“Asshole,” he muttered, but he was grinning.
I went to the fridge and helped myself to a can of blood orange soda. Monty bought the organic kind with real fruit juice, and I loved that shit.
He rinsed the cloth in the sink and began scrubbing the second shelf.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Sure,” he quipped.
“Uh-huh.” He’d spill in a second. Monty wasn’t one to hold back.
As if on cue, he paused his scrubbing and frowned my way. “Laurel pretends nothing happened.”
“I thought he might,” I said.
Waving the wet rag around, Monty threw his hands in the air. “I have no idea what’s going on in his head.”