Page 4 of Mismatched Mates (Special Bear Protectors)

JANE

T he hum of my car engine felt like a chorus, narrating the questionable life choices I’d made that led to me speeding down the winding road flanked by towering pines towards my blind date. To protect both parties, the service arranged for the meeting to take place in Foxmere, a town about ten miles out.

"This is ridiculous," I muttered to myself. "A blind date? What am I, sixteen?"

A little frisson of guilt went through me—despite my surprising admission at the matchmaker’s office, I was only going through with this ridiculous plan to save face. And get back at Jason. There were few things that provided as much motivation as revenge.

It's just for show , I reminded myself.

The thought of my brother's upcoming nuptials twisted my stomach into knots. I couldn't bear the pitying looks from relatives if I showed up alone.

The problem with living in the same small town as my ex was that everyone knew everyone else’s business. Pretending I had a boyfriend without some proof was a game I could only play for so long.

My palms were sweaty, and I told myself it was just nerves about meeting a stranger. Definitely not hope.

I planned to be upfront with my date about the situation and leave no room for misinterpretation. Ugly truths were better than pretty lies, that was my motto.

I glanced at my reflection in the rearview mirror. Trees blurred past in a green smear, and I was so lost in thought that I almost missed the glare of headlights bearing straight at me.

A massive truck swerved into my lane, its horn blaring. My heart leapt into my throat as I yanked the wheel hard to the right.

"Shit!"

The world spun in a nauseating blur. Tires screeched against pavement. The sickening crunch of metal filled my ears as my car careened off the road, coming to a jolting stop against a sturdy pine.

For a moment, I sat frozen, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The airbag deflated before me, leaving a faint chemical smell in its wake. I blinked, assessing. No pain, just the thundering of my pulse.

"Well," I said to the empty car, my voice shaky, "this is one way to avoid a blind date."

The birds, startled into a temporary silence, began to sing again, and I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding.

I fumbled for my seatbelt, my hands shaking slightly as I unclicked it. I peered out the cracked windshield, taking in my surroundings. Dense forest pressed in on all sides, the road barely visible through the trees.

Wolf territory , a small voice in my head whispered.

I pushed open the car door and stepped out, my legs doing an unwanted Bambi impression. The cool, damp earth and the tranquility of the forest felt like a cruel joke.

I allowed myself two seconds of frustration, then snapped back to problem-solving mode. If I was going to make the date, there was only one option now: call a tow truck and run the rest of the way to Foxmere. I was only a couple miles out, and if I was lucky, I wouldn’t even be late.

I surveyed the damage—the front bumper was crumpled, steam hissing from beneath the dented hood. I circled the vehicle, cataloging each scratch and dent, when I heard the snap of a twig, followed by a low snicker. Quiet enough that if it weren’t for my sensitive hearing, I’d have missed it entirely. But to me, it was like a gunshot.

A group of teenage boys emerged from the shadows, their eyes glinting with an unnatural amber hue.

Wolf shifters.

The boys’ build straddled the line between broad-shouldered and gangly, like their bodies hadn’t figured out how to work with the length they’d been given.

"Well, well," one of them drawled, a lanky boy with a shock of red hair. "What do we have here? A little bear lost in the woods?"

I straightened, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. "Just had a bit of car trouble. I'll be on my way soon enough."

Another boy, broader and more muscular, stepped forward. "You're trespassing on wolf territory."

"I didn't exactly plan this detour," I retorted, my tone sharp but controlled. I could feel my bear stirring beneath my skin, ready to defend if necessary. "Look, I don't want any trouble."

The red-haired boy snickered. "Maybe you should've thought of that before you crossed the border, bear."

Technically, he was right, but while I usually thrived on technicalities, this was ridiculous. Technically , this was the eastern side of Pine River and under the wolves’ jurisdiction, and while the road was exempt, they were correct that I wasn’t quite on it.

I crossed my arms, summoning my best 'don’t-mess-with-me' mom stance.

The air between us crackled with primal energy—predators sizing each other up. My mind raced, weighing my options. I didn't want a fight, but I'd be damned if I'd let these pups intimidate me.

I was about to retort when a new scent washed over me—earthy and rich, like rain on forest soil.

I whirled, my face coming startling close to a muscular man, with rugged features that spoke of both authority and danger. His gray eyes swept over the scene, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. He was dressed in a crisp linen shirt and dark jeans, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a fascinating number of scars along his arms.

"Boys," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent an inexplicable shiver down my spine. "Is this how we treat visitors to our territory?"

The teens immediately straightened, their bravado evaporating. "We were just—" the red-haired boy began, but a single raised eyebrow from the newcomer silenced him.

His scent drifted toward me again, hot and heavy in the wind, the particular brand of musk that always belonged to wolves. But instead of repulsing me, it settled on my skin, undeniably masculine. My bear stopped her pacing, and we both sniffed. Something primal inside me stirred at the sight of him—broad-shouldered and with a face that could have been carved from stone except for the hint of stubble.

He stood with a casual arrogance, facing off the teens with his hands in his pockets and a relaxed stance. But there was a spark of challenge in his gray gaze.

Those eyes, like twin storms, rested on me, and I sucked in a breath. There was a wildness about him, like his skin barely contained the animal simmering underneath, that called to me. My life was suburban, filled with spreadsheets, playdates and PTA meetings. This wildness sent a buzzing through my veins.

I was clearly suffering the ill effects of not having my needs met, as Heather so frequently reminded me.

The eldest ringleader, folded his arms, defiance replaced by an annoyed reluctance. Whoever this man was, he clearly pulled rank within the pack."This doesn’t concern you," the leader of the group growled, though his voice lacked its earlier bravado.”

The man’s eyebrow quirked. “I think it does?— ”

“She’s a bear,” he protested, cutting him off.

I growled, and the stranger grinned, amusement in his gaze as it landed on me again, traveling slowly, assessing every single inch of my body, heating my core.

“You think Vince is gonna want to hear about you harassing someone whose car crashed?” His voice was lower this time, all smoke and gravel. It made me think of dark nights and silken sheets and?—

What was wrong with me?

I sucked in a deep breath of gasoline-laden air and tried to find my equilibrium.

"Go on home, before I tell Vince" the man said, his tone brooking no argument. "I'll handle this."

Vince didn’t need a last name. I’d never actually spoken two words to him, but every shifter in Pine River knew Vince Elston was the alpha of the wolf pack.

And just like that, all three kids traipsed away, scowling like petulant children who stayed up past their bedtime.

I folded my arms and glared at the stranger, irrationally vexed that he’d interfered.

The corner of his mouth curved into a smirk, and my eyes traced a scar dissecting his lips, silvery and white. I had the sudden urge to run my fingers along it.

Get it together.

As he turned to face me, I straightened, trying to regain my composure. "I appreciate the assist, but I had it under control."

One brow arched in silent contest. "Of course you did. Allow me to give you a ride," he offered, his voice smooth and low. "I promise I don’t bite... unless asked."

I rolled my eyes, though a traitorous part of me tingled at his words. "Thanks, but I think I’ll take my chances with the wolves."

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "Oh, I don't doubt it. You seem more than capable of holding your own, Miss...?"

"Ms. Thomas," I supplied, surprising myself by using my maiden name. "And you are?"

His lips quirked in a half-smile that was far too attractive for my peace of mind. "Just a concerned citizen, making sure everyone stays out of trouble."

I snorted, unable to help myself. "Right. And I'm just a tourist, admiring the local flora and fauna."

His eyes sparkled with genuine amusement, and I felt an unexpected warmth bloom in my chest. I quickly tamped it down, reminding myself of all the reasons I couldn't afford to be distracted by his handsome face or the way his smile made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

His gaze lingered across my face once more, and my stomach twisted like he’d hooked it with a line. God, it was infuriating how attractive he was—especially when I was standing there looking like I’d just fought with a tree and lost.

Shame he was an ass.

Even bigger shame he was a wolf.

“Next time,” he said, stepping close enough to whisper into my ear, “stick to the road.”

I let my eyes flutter closed, preferring the darkness to the overwhelming maleness of him. He chuckled, the sound lingering behind him as leaves rustled and his scent faded. When I opened my eyes again, he was gone.

In the end, I was only five minutes late, although considerably more ruffled than I’d intended, both by the crash and the wind through my hair.

The ma?tre d' greeted me with a polite smile.

"Reservation for Jane," I said, forcing a smile, discreetly running my hands through my hair.

"Ah, yes. Your party is already seated. Right this way, please."

I followed, my eyes scanning the dimly lit interior. It practically oozed romance. A little heavy-handed if you asked me.

Only one of the tables in the back had an occupant, sitting with his back to us. Something about his posture made it seem like he owned the place. At the sound of our approach, he rose. An odd cocktail of nerves, exhilaration and disappointment coursed through me at the thought of meeting this stranger—and being almost certain I wouldn’t be as interested in him, as I had been in the man from the woods.

The man turned and my steps faltered as our eyes met, recognition and surprise mirrored in his gaze.

"You've got to be kidding me," I breathed, heat rising to my cheeks as I approached the table.

The stranger – my blind date – looked at me, a mix of amusement and curiosity playing across his features. "Well, well. If it isn't Little Miss Tourist with a penchant for trouble."

My eyes narrowed. "And if it isn't the 'concerned citizen'."

He adjusted his shirt sleeves at the elbow, and my gaze snagged on scars he didn’t even try to hide. There was that unmistakable silver sliver across his mouth.

He smile again, a little wicked this time, and I did my best to convince my galloping heart to slow.

At least he had the grace to look slightly abashed. "Grant Elston," he said, extending his hand. "I promise I had no idea when we met earlier. Though I can't say I'm disappointed by the coincidence."