Page 25 of Mated to the Mountain Bear (Bear Protector #1)

BEN

I watch Mason from the kitchen window, checking the perimeter. He’s thorough, I’ll give him that, crouching near the tree-line and studying the ground with genuine concentration.

Beau’s still at the table with Zara, going through more questions. His voice is an inaudible murmur, professional and patient. But his eyes keep flicking to me, an older brother’s look that tells me he knows something’s different. About me. About us.

The weight of it makes my shoulders tense. He’s going to have an opinion, but I don’t think I want to hear it.

I grip my coffee mug tighter, the ceramic warm against my palms. Really, I should be out there helping Mason scout. Should do something useful instead of standing here like a guard dog.

But Zara’s fingers are still trembling, wrapped around her mug, knuckles white from the pressure, to stop it from showing. I can’t bring myself to move away, not if she needs me. Every time she shifts in her chair when Beau asks a tough question, it makes my protective instincts flare.

And Beau can feel it.

Mason returns, brushing pine needles from his jacket with theatrical sweeps. Water droplets from the wet foliage darken the shoulders of his coat.

“All clear,” he reports, stomping his boots on the mat. Pine needles and mud scatter. “No signs of recent activity beyond your usual paths.”

“Good.” Not that I needed him to tell me that. I turn back to the window, watching for movement that isn’t there.

“That’s encouraging,” Beau says to Zara, closing his notebook with a soft snap. “Means he probably doesn’t know where you are.”

She nods, but I catch the doubt in her expression and the way her shoulders stay tense, waiting for bad news. Her fingers trace the rim of her mug in nervous circles. After weeks of being hunted, good news feels like a trap.

“So.” Mason settles against the counter like he owns the place. His wet jacket drips onto my clean floor but pointing it out would only encourage him to shake it out. “What’s for lunch? All this investigating makes a man hungry.”

I shoot him a look that would send most people running, but Mason just grins wider, clearly enjoying himself. Water droplets still cling to his hair, making him look younger, and more like the troublemaking kid he used to be. Probably still is behind it all.

“I could make something,” Zara offers, already starting to stand. The shirt she’s wearing, mine, shifts as she moves, the hem hitting mid-thigh.

“Sit.” The command is abrupt, my voice sharp with the effort of not stabbing Mason in the eyes for admiring how pretty she looks. She blinks at me, surprised by the harsh tone. “You’re supposed to be resting.” I add, hoping to make up for the delivery.

“I don’t mind helping...” Her voice trails off at my expression.

“I’ll handle it.” I move to the refrigerator, already regretting the decision.

Mason peers over my shoulder as I pull out ingredients, his breath too close as it invades my personal space. “Whatcha making?”

“Food.” I elbow him away, harder than strictly necessary. “Go sit down.”

“Touchy.” But he retreats to the table, spinning a chair backward to straddle it. The old wood creaks under his weight. “So, Zara, how’s the mountain-hermit experience treating you? Has he growled at you for breathing too loudly yet?”

She glances at me with a shy smile playing on her lips. The first genuine smile I’ve seen since Beau got here and forced her to relive all the painful things that have happened to her in the last month. “Maybe a few times.”

“A few times?” Mason leans forward, interested. His elbows rest on the chair back, making him look like an eager student. “And you haven’t run screaming down the mountain?”

“I considered it,” she teases, accepting the coffee refill Beau offers. Her fingers brush his as she takes the pot, and I have to turn back to the eggs to avoid snarling at my own brother. “Especially that first morning. He practically growled at me for trying to help with breakfast.”

“Classic Ben,” Mason says, delighted. “Remember when he kicked us out for showing up uninvited? Even after we drove all the way up here with beer and food.”

“Which is every time you show up,” I point out, cracking eggs into a bowl with perhaps less finesse than I should.

“We’re family. Families don’t need an invitation.” When Mason gives Zara a huge smile, the urge to drive my fist straight through his charming face is immediate and visceral.

“Yes, they do.” I growl.

Zara laughs, the sound warming the kitchen as she pats my hand.

The comfortable gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by my brothers.

Beau’s jaw clenches. I know what he’s thinking.

That his loner brother, who hasn’t seen a woman in months, is taking advantage of someone in a vulnerable position.

But he wouldn’t have left her here if that were the type of man I am.

Hard as it’s been, and much to my bear’s annoyance, nothing’s happened.

“He’s actually been very hospitable, made sure I had breakfast every morning, fixed the hot water so I could have a proper bath, taught me how to shoot, and even did my laundry.”

It’s easy to see the exact moment my brothers register what she’s said.

Mason’s grin freezes as if someone hit pause on his face. Even Beau pauses mid-sip of his coffee, eyes widening slightly above the rim of his mug.

The silence stretches, just a beat too long. The sizzle of eggs in the pan is suddenly deafeningly loud.

“That’s...” Beau clears his throat, setting down his mug with exaggerated care. “Nice.”

I remain focused on the eggs, whisking them violently. The pan sizzles when I pour them in, giving me an excuse to keep my back turned. Behind me, I can practically feel the weight of their stares, unasked questions hanging in the air.

“Very nice .” Mason agrees, his tone odd. I can practically hear the gears turning in his head as he adds sarcastically, “That’s just like our Ben. Being nice. Fixing things for guests.”

“The water heater’s always been temperamental,” I mutter sulkily. “It needed fixing anyway.”

“For two years,” Mason adds helpfully. “It’s good that you found the motivation to do it now.” I don’t even need to turn around; I can hear the smirk in his voice.

Zara continues, oblivious to the undercurrents in the room. “He even gave up his bed. I tried to argue, but...” She shrugs, the movement visible in my peripheral vision. “You know how generous and accommodating he is.”

The eggs are cooking too fast, so I lower the heat and scrape at them with the spatula while my brothers digest this information. I don’t think generous is something anyone’s ever called me before.

Grumpy. Grouchy. Stubborn? Yes. All of those. Accommodating? Never.

“Well,” Mason says finally, and I can hear him trying not to laugh. “Miracles happen.”

I plate the eggs with excessive care, adding toast and bacon in neat arrangements, dragging it on to buy myself time. I know what’s coming. When I turn to serve them, all three are watching me with varying degrees of both amusement and curiosity.

“What?” Zara looks confused by their reactions, glancing between us like she’s missing the punchline to a joke. It’s easy to see that teasing each other relentlessly isn’t part of her sibling dynamic.

“Nothing.” Mason accepts his plate with exaggerated politeness, pinky raised like he’s at a tea party. “Just thrilled he’s being a gentleman.”

I set Zara’s plate in front of her more gently than the others, making sure the toast isn’t too close to the eggs, exactly the way she does it for herself.

“I can be a fucking gentleman.”

Licking the lingering traces of her juices off my lips, I admit I may not be everyone else’s idea of a gentleman, but I haven’t fucking touched her, which is what these fuckers are implying.

“There’s been some grumbling and growling,” Zara confirms, cutting into her eggs with delicate precision, clearly raised in a house with table manners, unlike the animals she’s dining with who shovel their food in so fast, you’d think someone was trying to steal it.

“But he’s not as intimidating as he thinks. ”

I lean against the counter, arms crossed, and close my eyes, letting the dread of seeing my brothers’ delighted expressions wash over me.

The familiar defensive posture feels necessary with my brothers giggling like schoolboys at Zara’s inadvertent brick-by-brick dismantling of my tough-guy image. “I’m very intimidating.”

“Yes, very scary,” she agrees solemnly, but her eyes are dancing with suppressed laughter. “Like a teddy bear.”

The word ‘bear’ applied to me makes my brothers exchange looks again. Now they’re worried I’ve told her. I shake my head when Beau tilts his head, giving me a meaningful look.

“Yes, he’s a bear, alright. Bear-ly tolerable.” Mason swoops in with an awful joke to dispel the tension that’s crept in.

Beau’s expression is thoughtful as he looks around, at the two books sitting on the coffee table, side by side. The two sets of boots sitting inside the door.

“Interesting.” He holds my gaze as I glare right back, daring him to challenge me. To his credit, he’s smart enough to know that now is not the time.

The conversation shifts after that, my brothers filling the silence with stories.

Safe ones mostly, trying to boost Zara’s spirit after such a heavy conversation.

Mason launches into the tale of when I got stuck on the roof during a storm, his hands gesturing wildly as he describes the scene.

He’s always been a storyteller, embellishing details until even I almost believe his tall tales.

“The stubborn idiot refused to call for help,” Mason continues, enjoying my misery, only pausing his character assassination to shovel more eggs into his mouth. “Three hours in the freezing rain because he didn’t want to admit he needed help.”

“I was fine,” I mutter, remembering the bone-deep cold, and the way my fingers had gone numb on the slick shingles.

“You were practically hypothermic,” Beau corrects mildly. “Brody had to carry you down.”

An exaggeration. Shifters always run hot, and my fur kept warm, but being in bear form made it impossible to climb down.

More stories follow. Mason’s failed attempt at making moonshine that nearly poisoned us all gets told with dramatic flair, complete with sound effects. And his run-in with a particularly territorial turkey has Zara laughing so hard, she has to set down her fork.

“You boys sure got into some trouble,” she says, wiping at her eyes.

“Still do.” Mason grins, pushing his empty plate away. “Though now, it’s the legal kind. Mostly. Being upstanding citizens is harder than it looks.”

“Speak for yourself,” Beau says. “Some of us transitioned just fine.”

“Right, because that thing in Portland was totally legal.”

“We don’t talk about Portland,” Beau says firmly, amusement in his eyes.

“What happened in Portland?” Zara asks, looking between them with bright curiosity.

“Nothing,” all three of us answer in unison.

She looks at me, eyebrows raised, but I shrug.

“Lennox family secret. You’ll have to join the family to find out,” Mason says, earning himself a kick in the shin before his expression turns thoughtful.

“Hey, remember when everyone used to run when they heard the Lennox name? Now we’re all respectable.

Ben’s a hermit, Beau runs security… we’re practically boy scouts. ”

“Hardly.” Beau snorts. “But it is weird being the good guys for once. Thanks to Bodhi.”

“Bodhi?” Zara looks confused.

The kitchen goes quiet except for the rain that’s started patting against the windows. Mason’s mouth opens then closes, like a fish gasping for air, and Beau suddenly finds his empty plate fascinating, turning it in slow circles.

“Our youngest brother put our father out of action,” Beau says carefully. “With him behind bars, it gives the rest of us a chance to move on.”

“Oh.” She looks between us, clearly sensing there’s more, but she’s too polite to push, so she fiddles with her napkin. “Well, good for him.”

“Exactly.” Mason latches onto the subject change. “And speaking of moving on, since you seem to have so much power over our Ben here, how about you talk him into coming to work with us? Or even coming off the mountain every now and again. He can be grumpy someplace else for a change.”

“I’ll make up my own mind,” I protest, uncomfortable with their scrutiny, as my bear grows more and more unhappy having these unmated males around Zara.

Zara smiles shyly. “I like it up here. I can see why he never wants to leave.”

Stunned silence follows as all three of us stare at her. That’s not the usual reaction of women to our preference for remote living. Whether it’s the influence of the bond, or just her, it loosens a knot that’s been sitting in my chest since I realised what she is to me.

Maybe there is hope.

“Let’s get back to it.” Beau stands and squeezes Zara’s shoulder. “I know it’s hard; hopefully next time we’ll come with better news.”

Zara nods.

“Stay safe,” Beau says, levelling me with a look that’s heavy with meaning, before he glances at my mate. “And be careful.”