Free Bearly Living: Foxhollow Den #1 (Alaskan Den Men) by Kizzie Waller Page A

can clanged as it bounced twice and then rolled toward the back near the shovels. “Your brothers vandalized the back of my café.”
    “How do you know it was them?” Ray asked.
    “They spelled vagina with a ‘J’.” She placed her hands on jean covered hips. “I’m tired of their pranks.”
    Grant grabbed the spray paint can from the floor and tossed it to Ray. The eldest Wright sibling might pretend the fourteen-year-old twins didn’t live for making others miserable, but Grant knew better. He stood close to the woman. “We’ll pay for more paint.”
    “Who are you? Another Wright?” She shook her head, and her long hair swayed back and forth. “There are so many of you.”
    Her gaze met his directly, and he could tell by the set of her jaw she didn’t think too highly of his family. “Yes. I’m one of them.”
    “I don’t need the paint. I need your brothers to stop sabotaging my café. No more dog crap in flaming bags, no more eggs on the windows, and no more profanities.” Her face reddened while her brown eyes flecked gold, and she took several shaky breaths. She put a hand to her chest and closed her eyes.
    Grant sensed her bear trying to break to the surface. He raised a hand to Ray who also braced for a possible shift fight. If she changed, she’d make one hell of a mess in the store. And they’d have to pin her down until she got under control. Anger could push a body into a shift. That’s why his family and some of the other bears in their region took regular native trips to the family hideaway to calm the beast within.
    When she opened her eyes, the gold flecks were gone. “Just make them stop.”
    Grant watched her stomp down the sidewalk and cross the road to what used to be his favorite little diner. Her jeans hugged the curves of her shapely ass, and even though he wasn’t one to ogle women, he found it hard to look away. When she’d vanished through the front door, he glanced sideways at his brother. “Great job on the temporary custody.”
    “Boys will be boys.” Ray shrugged his shoulders and slung his paper clip rope across the room, hooking a trowel. “Score. Ten points.”
    “We’ll see how calm you are when Karla and Marla hit their teens.” Grant watched the cars pass on Main Street. He’d known grizzlies with uncontrolled shifting problems, but the black bear families like his who inhabited this area tended to have a calmer demeanor. But then, his baby twin brothers could cause a nun to want to strangle them with her habit. “Where’d Ms. Donut Shop come from?”
    “Florida. Samantha’s cousin. Kristin said she had some sort of meltdown at a high profile ad agency, so she’s hiding up here. Aggressive little thing, isn’t she?” Ray hooked another tool on a shelf.
    “You and your wife are terrible gossips.”
    Ray grinned and prepared for another paper clip rope assault on the hand tools. “We do what we can.”
    The unkempt hair growth on his neck itched, and he needed to eat, but first he had a mess to take care of. “What color paint do I need?”
    “For what?”
    “The back of the donut shop.”
    “Brother, don’t get involved with the Taylors.”
    “I won’t get involved, but I will do the right thing.”
     
    ∞∞∞
     
    Bobbie Taylor kicked the door to the back entrance of her new café. Her fingers itched, but she knew better than to scratch. Last time she’d been left with some nasty cuts, and hand abrasions were not a good look for pastry chefs. Pastry chef? Donut connoisseur? She still wasn’t sure what to call her new, temporary occupation.
    She walked in a circle and ate three apple cinnamon donuts from the taste batch she’d made earlier. The sugar helped calm the anger, and before long the prickliness of an unfinished shift disappeared. Things were supposed to be different here. Less stress. Less chance of run-ins with jerks. Less chance of shifting at the most inappropriate times.
    Who knew she’d walk right into the midst of an