Does a Bear Shift in the Woods (Bear Bites Book 4) by Ruby Dixon Page B
Authors: Ruby Dixon
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sure…”
“Ooooh,” Ryann coos. “We could make it a game! The next person to walk into the bar is the one that Maddie has to make over, no matter who it is. Man or woman. And once you do, I’d be happy to spread some rumors on your behalf that you have a long-distance boyfriend.”
“Or,” I say, “You could spread the rumors on my behalf because you’re good friends and we could skip the whole makeover thing?”
Ryann and Adelaide exchange a look. Then Ryann shakes her head, an impish grin on her face. “Here’s the thing, Maddie. It’s real slow in town. Real slow. People need entertainment.”
“Including my friends?” I ask dryly.
She winks at me.
I sigh and look at the door. “Okay then. Next person who comes through that door is getting the full Madison Thorne treatment. No pore will remain untouched, no follicle un-dyed, no cuticle un-trimmed.”
“Awesome,” Ryann says, and Adelaide gives an excited little hop in her seat. Boy, they must be right about things being slow around here if this is considered fun.
All three of us stare at the door to the bar, waiting to see who comes in. I cross my fingers under the table, hoping for a soccer mom who just needs a quick beer. Or something. Heck, I can even make do with a young, hot metrosexual who can wear a great fauxhawk and impress his girlfriend. Something easy.
The door creaks open.
The three of us tense in our seats.
Heavy, muddy boots stomp in. I look up in horror at the man who’s just walked through the door. He’s got a bristling, overgrown beard that sticks out in every direction. His hair is long, tangled, and hangs on the shoulders of his dirty plaid shirt. He’s enormous, and even from here I can smell the scent of were-bear and sawdust and sweat on his skin. I know that lumbersexuals are hot right now, but those guys are sculpted, almost effete versions of the raw man standing in the doorway of the bar. This man would give Paul Bunyan a run for his money. All he needs is a blue ox.
“There’s your challenge,” Ryann whispers. “Chance Eddington. I don’t know that he’s ever gotten a haircut. Or talked to a woman. Like, ever.”
Hoo boy.
I am so screwed. How am I going to get this guy to consent to a makeover?
2
Chance
W omen . I scowl. There are so many damn women around now that the shifters have been hooking up with humans. A bear can’t even go into a tavern and get a drink without having to be assaulted by flowers and weeds and shit. The worst is Cole’s new woman, Adelaide, and her fancy schmancy shop that, from all I’ve heard, is a place where people pay ladies to rub their faces. Worse, these women don’t even offer a below-the-waist massage.
Can’t figure out why I’d pay for something like that.
The only good thing that’s come of this is that I’ve been selling houses and cottages faster than they can be built. Shifters from all over are streaming into Pine Falls, and they all want places to live. The wolves want big houses, but others, like the big cats, want homes away from the water, near trees, and as far away from other folks as possible.
Good thing we live up in the great North woods where there’s a lot of land available and at cheap prices. Although with all these shifters, land prices are going to go up. Other Pine Falls residents can take advantage of that because while I’ve got about fifty acres bordering the Superior National Forest, none of that is going to any of these new shifters.
I stomp over to the bar. “Yuengling.”
I slap my fiver on the scarred chestnut bar top as Dent, the owner, slides an ice-cold beer down to my fist.
“Looks like you’re keeping busy,”he observes.
I give him a short nod to let him know that I’m not in the mood to chatter. I rode herd all day on a bunch of wet-behind-the-ears cubs who thought they knew everything there was about building because they’d helped Eli, the local shifter leader, put together a shed behind the Lodge.
Dent
“Ooooh,” Ryann coos. “We could make it a game! The next person to walk into the bar is the one that Maddie has to make over, no matter who it is. Man or woman. And once you do, I’d be happy to spread some rumors on your behalf that you have a long-distance boyfriend.”
“Or,” I say, “You could spread the rumors on my behalf because you’re good friends and we could skip the whole makeover thing?”
Ryann and Adelaide exchange a look. Then Ryann shakes her head, an impish grin on her face. “Here’s the thing, Maddie. It’s real slow in town. Real slow. People need entertainment.”
“Including my friends?” I ask dryly.
She winks at me.
I sigh and look at the door. “Okay then. Next person who comes through that door is getting the full Madison Thorne treatment. No pore will remain untouched, no follicle un-dyed, no cuticle un-trimmed.”
“Awesome,” Ryann says, and Adelaide gives an excited little hop in her seat. Boy, they must be right about things being slow around here if this is considered fun.
All three of us stare at the door to the bar, waiting to see who comes in. I cross my fingers under the table, hoping for a soccer mom who just needs a quick beer. Or something. Heck, I can even make do with a young, hot metrosexual who can wear a great fauxhawk and impress his girlfriend. Something easy.
The door creaks open.
The three of us tense in our seats.
Heavy, muddy boots stomp in. I look up in horror at the man who’s just walked through the door. He’s got a bristling, overgrown beard that sticks out in every direction. His hair is long, tangled, and hangs on the shoulders of his dirty plaid shirt. He’s enormous, and even from here I can smell the scent of were-bear and sawdust and sweat on his skin. I know that lumbersexuals are hot right now, but those guys are sculpted, almost effete versions of the raw man standing in the doorway of the bar. This man would give Paul Bunyan a run for his money. All he needs is a blue ox.
“There’s your challenge,” Ryann whispers. “Chance Eddington. I don’t know that he’s ever gotten a haircut. Or talked to a woman. Like, ever.”
Hoo boy.
I am so screwed. How am I going to get this guy to consent to a makeover?
2
Chance
W omen . I scowl. There are so many damn women around now that the shifters have been hooking up with humans. A bear can’t even go into a tavern and get a drink without having to be assaulted by flowers and weeds and shit. The worst is Cole’s new woman, Adelaide, and her fancy schmancy shop that, from all I’ve heard, is a place where people pay ladies to rub their faces. Worse, these women don’t even offer a below-the-waist massage.
Can’t figure out why I’d pay for something like that.
The only good thing that’s come of this is that I’ve been selling houses and cottages faster than they can be built. Shifters from all over are streaming into Pine Falls, and they all want places to live. The wolves want big houses, but others, like the big cats, want homes away from the water, near trees, and as far away from other folks as possible.
Good thing we live up in the great North woods where there’s a lot of land available and at cheap prices. Although with all these shifters, land prices are going to go up. Other Pine Falls residents can take advantage of that because while I’ve got about fifty acres bordering the Superior National Forest, none of that is going to any of these new shifters.
I stomp over to the bar. “Yuengling.”
I slap my fiver on the scarred chestnut bar top as Dent, the owner, slides an ice-cold beer down to my fist.
“Looks like you’re keeping busy,”he observes.
I give him a short nod to let him know that I’m not in the mood to chatter. I rode herd all day on a bunch of wet-behind-the-ears cubs who thought they knew everything there was about building because they’d helped Eli, the local shifter leader, put together a shed behind the Lodge.
Dent
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