The Cowbear's Christmas Bride (Curvy Bear Ranch 4) by Liv Brywood

hair. Shit. He’d like to grab Trevor by the throat and choke him to death. What right did he have to put his hands on a woman? No man had that right.
    Deep inside his chest, his bear raged. He clawed frantically at Hank’s ribcage trying to escape. He tried to reason with his bear. If he shifted now, he wouldn’t be able to protect Carol as well as he could in his human form. Sure, his bear could rip Trevor to pieces, but he couldn’t drive the truck and Hank wasn’t going to kill in cold blood.
    But, he could put the fear of God in that bastard when he came back. Then he’d get the damn sheriff. He opened the glove box and double-checked his cell phone. As expected, there wasn’t any service this far into the forest. He looked at the lines coming into the cabin but didn’t see a phone line or any satellites.
    Beside him, Carol shivered so hard he was afraid she’d pass out. As his mate, she was his top priority. If it came down to a choice between saving her mom and saving Carol, it would be an easy decision. Hopefully it would never come to that.
    Snow came down harder. He turned on the engine to get warm air flowing through the cab. Carol leaned forward and warmed her hands in front of the vent. He glanced up at the swiftly darkening sky. If they didn’t head back soon, they’d risk getting stuck in the muddy potholes that he’d narrowly avoided on the way in.
    An idea popped into his mind.
    “I’ll be right back. Do not get out of the truck under any circumstances. Okay?” He refused to move until she gave him confirmation.
    “Okay.” She blinked rapidly and brushed tears from her eyes. Her nose had turned bright red and blotches of color stained her pale cheeks. His heart clenched. His plan had better damn well work.
    He jogged up the steps and pounded on the front door. At first nothing happened, but then it whipped open to reveal Vicki holding a twelve-gauge shotgun.
    “I have the right to shoot you if you don’t get off my property. Don’t make me waste Trevor’s shells. It’ll only make him madder.” She spoke in such an even tone that he had no doubt she was prepared to shoot him.
    “We’ll leave,” he said. “But I’m sending the sheriff up here as soon as we get to town. We’re not giving up on you even though you’ve given up on yourself.”
    “What do you know about giving up? You can’t give up anything when you never had anything to begin with. Now git.” She waved the shotgun toward the truck.
    Hank backed down the steps and retreated to the car. So much for his plan of throwing her over his shoulder and forcing her into the truck.
    When he closed the driver’s side door, Vicki stepped onto the front porch. She trained the shotgun on them as he backed up and turned to get back onto the road.
    “She pointed that gun at us,” Carol murmured.
    The shocked quality of her voice increased his worry. She’d been traumatized by the whole experience. He needed to get her home and into a warm bed. But he knew she’d never let him do that until he’d found the sheriff.
    He drove as fast as he dared, not bothering to chain the gate back up. Miles ticked by at a frustratingly slow pace, but he couldn’t chance getting stuck on the road.
    The more time passed, the deeper Carol slumped into the seat. He occasionally reached out to squeeze her hand, but she barely responded.
    When he spotted the soft glow of West Yellowstone a few miles up the road, he breathed a sigh of relief. He drove straight to the sheriff’s office. After parking, he jumped out to get Carol and led her into the small law enforcement department.
    “I need to talk to the sheriff,” Hank said.
    “Do you have an appointment?” The young lady at the reception desk looked up from filing her nails.
    “No, this is an emergency.”
    “He’s in the office in the back. I’ll take you there.”
    As she sauntered toward the back of the office, Hank wanted to shove her out of the way. He didn’t want to waste a