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

on-going feud between the Wrights and the Alaskan Taylors. Something her cousin, Samantha, had failed to mention when she’d convinced Bobbie to sublet her condo in Florida and spend the summer in Foxhollow.
    She piled her hair into a bun on top of her head and covered it with the purple checkered toque her cousin made her. This was their business together. For now. At least until things calmed down in Florida. Samantha would be the face of the café, while Bobbie stayed away from the public and enjoyed her newfound love of baking gourmet donuts. With their deadline for opening in three weeks, neither had time for the constant pranks from the terrible teen twins of anarchy.
    After washing up and tying an apron around her waist, Bobbie began work on her first attempt at a berry-glazed donut with walnut accents. With a small batch she could get away with hand stirring the batter. No need to waste electricity on the bigger mixers for taste batches, and she needed to work out some of her aggression anyway.
    Deep in her thoughts and batter, a bang from behind the café startled her. Her senses were dulled courtesy of the sugar high, and the fact there was an annoyingly large population of shifters in one concentrated area. Back home she would’ve smelled them coming. She usually avoided her own kind as much as possible, but those Wright boys needed to be kept on a leash. At least this time she’d catch them in the act.
    Bobbie grabbed the nearest wooden spoon and screamed “aha” as she pushed through the door. There was a Wright brother standing at her back wall but not the ones she’d been expecting.
    The scruffy, dark-haired Wright she’d seen earlier in the hardware store pried open a can of paint with a screwdriver. “I’ll put on primer and come back tomorrow with the paint. I’ve got to go down to Fairbanks to get the right color mix.”
    Bobbie put the wooden spoon in her apron pocket. “I told you I didn’t need more paint.”
    “I’m not going to be able to get the boys to apologize. They’ll never admit they did it unless you’ve caught them in the act. This is the best I can do.” He stuck a brush in the primer and slapped it on the wall above the V. “But I can make sure it won’t happen again.”
    “How?” she asked. No one else from the Wright family had offered the same commiseration.
    His gaze connected with hers, and he didn’t have to answer the question. The fierceness in his honey eyes let her know he’d handle the terrible two.
    “Thanks. I’m Bobbie Taylor.”
    “Grant.”
    He turned away from her, and she took the opportunity to study him. Black bears were some of the smallest shifting bears, but Grant still held his ground at six feet. His faded jeans were ripped in several places, and his checkered shirt hung loose over a fitted T-shirt. She’d bet her entire inventory of multi-colored sprinkles he had smooth skin on his stomach with a light sprinkling of dark hair trailing downward.
    She lifted her eyes to a less tantalizing area. His arms were the right kind of muscular. The bulgy muscle-men with popping veins had never really attracted her attention anyhow. Not that she was attracted to Grant. Well, maybe a little. She pushed a stray hair back under her toque. “After you’re done with the primer, you can come on in and grab a few donuts.”
    “Not much of a donut guy.” He worked his arm up and down with the brush, the muscles flexing with each stroke. “I like steak.”
    The smile that inched across her face felt foreign. Almost as if she’d forgotten what smiling a full smile was like. Samantha warned her there’d be a few in the community upset they’d taken over the old steak house. Grant must’ve been at the top of the list. “Then I’ll make you a steak.”
    She didn’t give him time to object and dashed back into the kitchen to defrost two steaks. Then she’d convince him to be a donut guy.

 
     
     
Chapter Two
     
     
    Grant finished applying a third