Free The Bear Who Loved Me by Kathy Lyons Page A

he’d sit beside her and smell so much more.
    “This is not a good idea,” he growled.
    “I’ll risk it,” she shot back, proving she knew absolutely nothing about what she was doing.
    But rather than point out the obvious, he turned the ignition and headed out to the watch point.
    He worried that she’d start to push her advantage the moment he put the truck in drive. That’s what Tonya would have done. It was an animal thing. The minute predators sensed softness, they went in for the kill. Humans knew to take their time. To ease in patiently by degrees until everything was exposed.
    Becca was all human and a woman as well. She touched him again—this time in gratitude—then settled back into silence to let him get comfortable with her presence. Both actions were guaranteed to intrigue him. His bear liked that she hadn’t attacked, feeling intrigued by the atypical reaction. And the man in him…well, he had a boner the size of Detroit. He was pulsing with hunger after those two brief touches.
    It took fifteen minutes to get to the lonely watch point: a huge weeping willow draped at the edge of a stream. A platform had been built around the lowest branches. The perch was high enough to see the distance, but low enough for a bear to jump down without problem, and the other trees had been cut back to give a good 360-degree view. And, best of all, a cell tower stood near enough to keep all five bars of his phone happy.
    He parked the truck at the side of the road, then grabbed the picnic basket Marty had packed for him. Becca took hold of the blanket and thermos of coffee, then hopped out, peering all around her. He waited, wondering if she could see the perch with her human senses. She did, proving that she had spent at least some time out in the wild.
    “You ever hunt as a kid?”
    “Deer with my dad. It was about the only time I spent with him growing up. He went with his brother and let me tag along if I promised not to tell Mom what they did.”
    “What did they do?”
    “Drink and talk shit.”
    “Ah. My favorite kind of hunter. Noisy and with lousy aim.”
    She chuckled. “We never caught anything but colds.”
    He narrowed his eyes as he studied her face. It was a mixture of emotions both bad and good. “What happened?”
    She’d started walking to the tree, but stopped at his question. “What?”
    “Something bad happened or you’d be glowing with nostalgia.”
    She snorted. “Drunk middle-aged men are not the most considerate people. I learned to shoot and drink beer. I learned that men are gross and think a lot about sex. I also learned that my father loved my mother even if he couldn’t stand to hang around her for long.”
    Ah. Abandonment issues. “So Mom was the stable one.”
    “Nurses are there when you need them in the best possible way. Unless they’re at work earning rent money because Dad has wandered off again.”
    “What did he do?”
    “He was an electrician by trade. Get rich quick schemer by action. And…” She shrugged. “He had a big personality. Drunk, sober, at home or away, he was big in my life.”
    “And now?”
    “Gone. Bad flu that he ignored. It was too late by the time he thought to see a doctor. We didn’t even make it to the hospital in time to say good-bye.”
    “Tough break.”
    She was silent a moment, looking out at the dark horizon. “It’s how he would have chosen to go. Quick, dramatic, and without hurting anyone else.” Then she shrugged. “I was always terrified we’d lose him in an electrical fire or a drunk-driving accident.”
    “How old were you when he passed?”
    “Seventeen. Old enough to process it and perfect timing to quit hoping that Dad would help out with my college tuition.”
    There was a wealth of disappointment in those words. Along with anger and all those things that come with an unreliable parent. “So you got your business degree on your own.”
    She snorted. “Hardly. Mom paid, I worked at my aunt’s bakery. And