Free Theirs to Bear: Icy Cap Den #3 (Alaskan Den Men) by Jennifer Hilt

1
    Tristan
    “ A bear has no business in a beauty parlor.” I was unloading another crate of bikini wax. It was only midmorning, way too early to be dealing with humans. Besides, I’d already stacked two other crates. That’s a lot of wax. This woman had arrived in Icy Cap with enough wax to de-fur a sizable population of paranorms. Then again, coming off an Alaskan winter, that estimate was about right.
    “Tristan Barlow, buck up. You weren’t born a hundred years ago.” Liv Merrell, the woman who should’ve been my mate, shook her head at me. Her round face and brunette curls were sticky with our warmer-than-usual spring weather. Even sweaty she was sexy. “It’s called a ‘salon,’ and judging from what I’ve seen of the population here, a unisex one is overdue.”
    I wasn’t a hundred years old, but her inheritance was. Tourists would think the house’s two-story plank construction was cute as hell. In reality, it’d be hot in the summer and cold in the winter. The ceilings were low-beamed too. I had to duck every time I entered a room.
    The water pressure was finicky. The window frames would swell up with summer humidity, making it tough to get the widows open. There’d be no air-conditioning unless the whole house got rewired. The best Liv could do was plug fans in for the hot days. I’ve been working construction lately, helping renovate my cousin’s inn down the street. Everywhere I looked these days, I mentally renovated one of Icy Cap’s run-down buildings.
    “I love the dormers and built-ins. Plus the old wavy glass windows. I can’t believe Ted never told me about it. I just about fell over when I found the deed with his will. This coat of pain will freshen things up.”
    “There’s barely enough room for you, let alone a business.” I propped open a nearby window. The warped wooden frame protested at being forced. If building supplies weren’t so expensive up here, this place would be a tear-down. Liv was overly optimistic about the power of paint, but that was like her in general: always looking on the bright side.
    I, on the other hand, preferred the “whatever the hell can possibly go wrong will” view of life. I liked being right. My outlook pretty much assured that I would be.
    “There’s a loft upstairs. Over time I’ll make improvements. Maybe when you finish up construction at the inn, you can help out? Plus, Gary has an electrician friend.”
    Gary. All I needed was a ghoul running the welcome wagon in Icy Cap. This community was still trying to get off the ground. Having a ghoul as an ambassador was not helping the “Come to Icy Cap” cause. Gary needed a mate to keep him busy. He had entirely too much free time if he was hanging around Liv. Too bad I’d never smelled a female ghoul around town.
    “The electrician is a vampire. Did Gary say when he was coming back? It would be dangerous for you if the vamp was here.”
    “Worried about me already? Don’t worry; there’s always room for a sleepover upstairs.” Liv winked. “Gary said he’s not expected to be back until fall. Right now, with all this midnight sun, that poor vamp would be roasted.”
    I exhaled. Good. One less thing to worry about. Vamps usually didn’t come north when the days started to lengthen. The thought of a vamp sinking his teeth or anything else into Liv sickened me. But where I tamped down one worry about her, another one popped up. It was like a sick game of Whac-A-Mole.
    “No one wants a human setting up shop here. Icy Cap is a paranorm community. Always has been.” I stacked more crates in the corner, as directed. It was harder to argue and work than I’d thought, being in the same room as Liv. I wanted to fold her into my arms and bury my nose in hair. From there, things would hopefully involve less clothing and more grunting.
    Hey, a shifter can dream.
    I needed a mate. My ice bear was close to the surface. After spending the last month and a half roaming on an ice shelf, I’d