Page 8 of Mismatched Mates (Special Bear Protectors)

JANE

H eather lived in Fayetteville, about two and a half hours from Pine River, and by some miracle of miracles, the weekend after my date, both our schedules aligned. Luke and Victoria had the boys for a hiking trip, and after sending them off with their tent and sleeping bags, I left Pine River behind.

I was driving a rental car because my SUV was in the shop for repairs. And although I thought longingly of the work I’d be missing out on by spending the entire weekend away, my laptop was in my bag, and I always woke earlier than she did. Nothing like a Sunday morning coffee and an hour to read my emails.

By the time I finally pulled up outside Heather’s apartment, she was waiting with tacos and too many questions.

“So, spill. How'd the big date go?” she asked as she led me through to her living room. Deep green walls surrounded us, offset by thrifted mid-century furniture that somehow managed to look both eclectic and perfectly curated. “You’ve been holding out on me and it’s been torture. Torture .”

“Something tells me you’ve never been tortured in your life,” I said, inhaling the aroma of spicy beef tacos. My stomach grumbled. “I don’t know how humanity survived before tacos.”

“ Do not check your phone.” She snatched it from my hand as I went to put it beside me on the table. “This is a phone-free zone. No messaging, emailing, or ‘just checking the time’, because when you do that you never know what time it is.” She held my phone aloft between her two fingers. “Unless you want to tell me that you and lover boy are furiously texting naughty messages, in which case I need to hear all about it.”

Given the weird ache in my chest at the idea of not having access to my phone, I decided some device-free space was probably a good thing. “Food first.”

“Food during .” She pulled up a chair and propped one foot on it, resting her chin on her bent knee. “Please? Elevate my sad and lonely existence.”

“That,” I told her through a mouthful, “is emotional manipulation.”

“But that doesn’t make it any less true… so go on, now you’re just holding back on purpose.”

I paused, toying with what to tell her. Obviously she didn’t know about the wolf/bear thing, but she did know about the Elston. Though we hadn’t gone to the same schools—she’d gotten a scholarship to the nearby private school that the Elston attended—we’d both grown up in Pine River.

After high school, Heather had high-tailed it out of Pine River as soon as she could, and Konrad Elston breaking her heart had everything to do with it. Exactly what happened, she’d been uncharacteristically closed-mouth about.

Plus, there was this whole strange arrangement with Grant. "It was... unexpected," I finally managed as I sank into the cushions, my eyes drawn to the half-finished crossword puzzles and dog-eared novels scattered across the table.

“Okay,” I said. “You need to promise me not to freak out.”

She pointed one extremely pink nail at me. “Why do I get the feeling you’re being purposely vague?”

Damn. How did she know me so well?

“So as it happened, I already knew the guy. Or at least, I knew of him.” I squinted at her, chewing on the side of my nail and trying to figure if fourteen years was enough time for her to have forgiven the Elstons.

Probably not.

Heather was a pixie. Her blonde hair and frosted pink ends, indicated her usually fun-loving and free spirited nature. But as tempting as it was to think of her as some ethereal forest elf, that girl could hold a grudge.

“The suspense is killing me,” she said through a mouthful of taco delight.

“It was Grant Elston,” I said, the words coming out in a whoosh. “And yes, I do mean Elston as in of Elston fame, as in part of Sentinel, as in brother of Konrad Elston.” Wow, I’d used the words ‘as in’ an offensive number of times there. “But as bad as it sounds, he’s actually not… awful. Honestly, when he introduced himself, I thought he was going to be the world’s biggest jerk, but we agreed to essentially fake date and?—”

“You agreed to that?”

“That’s what I just said.”

“You traitor! He’s Konrad’s brother , and generally not considered the better alternative of the two. So,” she finished, “he’s probably going to ruin your life and leave you with permanent trust issues.”

Yup, she definitely hadn’t forgiven him. “That,” I said, “is a lot to unpack in therapy.” I shifted uncomfortably under Heather's gaze, my fingers idly tracing the pattern on the couch cushion.

Her green eyes narrowed at me. “He’s not your perfect match, Jane.”

“I’m not saying he is. Lower your taco. Seriously . I’m not about to fall in love with him or anything like that. I’m going to bring him to the wedding to piss Jason off, and he’s going to use me to piss his father off. It's strictly business. The end.”

She stopped waving her taco threateningly. My girl wasn’t the violent type, and she wasn’t one to waste food, but this had shaken her. "Business, huh? With a Elston? That's playing with fire, Jane."

I felt a flutter in my stomach at her words, remembering the intensity of Grant's gaze. "I can handle it," I insisted. "It's just to get back at Jason and help Grant with his family issues. Nothing more. And I’m sorry, Bee, but I was never really expecting to find my perfect match. He’s not… ” At the last minute I decided to steer away from Konrad’s name. “He’s not as bad as I thought he was going to be.”

Slowly, still eyeing me suspiciously, she perched back on her chair and put her food back on her plate, dusting her fingers. Heather looked up, her gaze steady but tinged with hurt. "Elston men... they have this way of getting under your skin," she said, her voice low and measured. "It feels exciting, like something out of reach, but trust me, they don't stay."

“Did you ever meet Grant?”

“Yes,” she admitted after a second. “I mean, I saw him a couple times. He’s a couple years older than Konrad. But I never really got to know him.”

I chewed my lip, but aside from the whole shifter thing, Heather and I told each other everything. “There’s something else.”

“Jason declared his undying love and sacrificed that girl he was seeing on a metaphorical pyre?”

“No, she broke up with him. Anyway, when he dropped me off, we, um… kissed.”

“You what ?” Her voice turned practically supersonic. “Why did you not tell me this immediately ?”

“Because I knew you’d freak out.” Heather knew I didn’t go around kissing people lightly. “And because I needed a second to process in between life being crazy.”

“Your life is always crazy.”

“Exactly.” I finished eating and went up to wash my hands at the faucet. “And seeing as I knew I was going to be seeing you…”

“Okay, okay, you’re not forgiven but we’re going to move on anyway.” She waved a hand. “The question is, was it good?”

I paused, staring at my hands as I dried them. The truth was obviously yes . Kissing Grant had been surprisingly good—or maybe, scarier than that, it had been incredible. Hands down the best kiss I’d ever had, even when things had been honeymoon-sweet with Jason.

“He knew what he was doing,” I said after a moment.

“Does the fact that he’s an amazing kisser change anything?”

“Obviously not.” I straightened the tea towel hanging above the counter and poured myself a glass of water. “I’m not even going to see him again until the gala, and it’s not like we’ve been messaging every night.”

He’d given me his number in the restaurant, but neither of us had actually used it to do anything other than organize logistics for the gala. Which would be highly publicized. My stomach knotted every time I thought about it.

Actually, all week I’d been feeling slightly unsettled, like my meeting with Grant, this flash of coincidence, was an insight into a world I hadn’t even known I’d wanted. Breathless kisses with an unobtainable man, and a break from the regular, predictable mania of my everyday life.

Terrifying. Dangerous. Absolutely not something I was prepared to get myself involved in.

Heather pulled out her phone—evidently it was fine for her to be on the internet—and was scrolling, her lips pinched. “Oh my, he is snackably delicious.. And he gets around,” she murmured.

“Hey!”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t looked him up. You still live in Pine River—you probably know the rumors anyway. Grant Elston,” she sang. “Ladies’ man. He’s basically a 20th century rake.”

I flopped onto the sofa and folded my arms across my stomach. “Shut up. This is exactly why he needs me for this publicity stunt, okay? His reputation isn’t the best.”

“His reputation is awful .”

A surge of defensiveness rose through me, and I forced myself to bite it back. Nothing she was saying was wrong, and none of it was news to me. Those were the same accusations I’d thrown at him; the fact he had a prolific—and very public—dating history. There was no reason for me to come to his defense.

The man was no angel. He’d admitted as much.

Heather glanced up from her phone. “Weird how most of the articles on the family focus on Grant’s dating history. Anyway, just be careful, Nutcracker. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Relax,” I said, like it was something I frequently did, like I hadn’t been overthinking my every life decision since the moment I’d decided to stay in that restaurant and agree to this ridiculous fake-dating scheme. “It’s going to be fine.”

“Congratulations, I’m even less convinced.” She leaned forward in her seat. “Tell me something, Jane, and be honest with me. Do you like him?”

I snorted. Then, because I wasn’t sure it was convincing enough, I snorted again. “Seriously? I barely know the guy. There’s nothing for me to like. We’re basically strangers. Trust me, this isn’t the cute little love story you think it is.”

“Not that I think it is,” she said, taking out two gin glasses and a bottle of rhubarb flavored gin. Our favorite. “More that I’m afraid it is.”