That surprised me. He was definitely the alpha of his social group, bears prided themselves on being able to hunt and provide food for their close relatives and friends. I thought about watching him in my kitchen, preparing a meal for me, and that flutter of heat returned with a vengeance.

  "That sounds great, Duncan." I gave him my number and address, and he promised to arrive at six. I looked at the clock. It was already almost five. Shit, I had to get ready.

  I closed my laptop and pulled Dahlia out of her walker, where she had started to doze off. I put her in her crib and wrapped her up tight so she couldn't wriggle out, before taking the baby monitor into the bathroom with me. I left it on the bathroom sink and climbed into my giant bathtub, turning on the shower. I turned the water on hot and scrubbed the scent of formula, baby powder, and sweat off me.

  My eyes lingered on the seat in my bathtub. Sometimes it felt like it was only yesterday when I was in this very tub, bleeding and screaming and pushing Dahlia into the world. I sucked in a breath and pushed the thoughts away, a small coil of anxiousness starting in me.

  I probably shouldn't expect anything, but I shaved for good measure and plucked the stray hairs from my eyebrows, and brushed my teeth until there was no lingering taste of coffee or my lunch. I hadn't put this much effort into my appearance for a long time. It was kind of nice to dress up.

  I wasn't ugly, I knew that much. Certainly not a bombshell blonde like Anastasia but I was capable of turning heads when I tried. I braided my hair so that it would form soft waves as it dried, and put a small amount of makeup on, some foundation, a light amount of blush, and of course the usual mascara and nude eyeshadow combination to get rid of the circles under my eyes.

  I didn't want to dress in something overly provocative, but this was a date. I eventually decided on form-fitting black leggings and a long shirt that gave a hint of cleavage and clung to my ass, accentuating my natural curves.

  Yeah, that would do.

  I unbraided my hair and fluffed it out, pursing my lips as I considered my reflection. I almost didn't recognize myself without dark circles and with my hair all done. I checked my teeth one last time, before I checked the time on my bedside table. Half past five, okay, I still had time.

  I considered the bed. The rest of the house was cleaned because of Anastasia visiting, but the bedroom was still a mess. I didn't want to expect anything, but if something did happen then I wasn't going to bring him to this crash site.

  I hurriedly gathered all of my clothes and stripped my bed, adding the sheets to the hamper. I wiped down the dresser and bedside table, drew the curtains back and opened the window, and put fresh sheets on the bed. I didn't have time to vacuum, but it was good enough in a pinch.

  "Okay," I whispered, my hands on my hips. "Okay."

  I took the baby monitor and slid the plastic clip into the waistband of my leggings, heading to Dahlia's room one last time to check that she was down for the night. I had a small music box for her that would play an orchestral version of classic children's lullabies, which I turned on and set low so that she would stay asleep. She had started sleeping through the night fairly recently, so unless the scent of food roused her or we made any really loud noises, she should be good.

  My heart was racing as I came back downstairs and made sure the kitchen wasn't in a terrible state too. There were just the coffee cups from Anastasia's visit and the plate of snacks I had made. I covered it with Clingfilm and put it back in the fridge, biting my lower lip as I considered the other contents. I had one of those bagged salad kits, that would go well with fish. I didn't have any wine or anything like that, since I hadn't had a drink since I found out I was pregnant. Damn it.

  My head snapped up as I heard a knock on the door. My heart leapt into my throat, and I took a deep breath. I checked my hair one more time, plastered a smile on my face, and went to the door.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  DUNCAN

  I had a smile on my face as I pulled the boat back into harbor. Rob was there, looking startled to see me back so early. He caught the keys when I threw them to him. "You good? Ocean rough?" he asked, brows knit together in concern.

  "Yeah, they're fine," I said, unable to keep the smile off my face. "I have a date tonight."

  Rob's brows rose. "A date?" he echoed, and then laughed. "Aw, shit! Awesome." He bumped his fist against my shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. "From the site?"

  "Yes, and since I know you're going to demand it, thank you for forcing me to sign up. You are truly a king and scholar amongst men," I said, rolling my eyes. Rob laughed again, shaking his head, a quiet purr trilling in the back of his throat. Rob was a good guy, though he still clung to the childish mindset of most selkies. They were almost pathologically naïve and optimistic, which was a good quality to have in a friend.

  It also made them prone to being taken advantage of, which was one of the reasons I had unofficially taken him under my wing. I made sure he didn't get himself into the wrong kind of trouble or run with the wrong crowd.

  "Just lock up for me when everyone's back in, okay?" I asked.

  Rob nodded, dangling the keys from his finger. "You got it, boss."

  "I'm taking some of today's catch," I told him, taking off my cap and folding it, putting it in the pocket of my thick coat as we walked together down the dock and onto the concrete harbor front. The ocean had been peaceful today and the fish were plentiful this time of year, so I knew there was a large selection to choose from.

  "Ooh, you're cooking for her," Rob chirped, still grinning.

  "Of course I am," I replied, shrugging. "I'm a decent enough cook."

  "I know," Rob said, nodding. He had eaten with me often enough to trust my abilities in the kitchen. "I'm just surprised, I guess. That was pretty fast. What's her name, tell me about her!"

  I shook my head, smiling at Rob's enthusiasm. "Her name is Winter," I told him. "She's a few years younger than me. Single mother. Gorgeous."

  "Naturally," Rob said with a toothy grin. "I don't know her. She local?"

  "I think so," I said. "Her address is in Nome, anyway."

  Rob nodded, tapping his chin as he watched me open the cooler with the freshest catch. I crouched down, surveying the piles of salmon inside to find the best fish. My nose would tell me if there was anything wrong with the fish, but I doubted it. The fish caught here were rarely infected or bad quality.

  "Well, good luck, man," Rob finally said, clapping me on the shoulder after I selected two of the largest fish and wrapped them in brown paper, putting them in a plastic bag so I could carry them easily. "Try not to go all dark brooding alpha on her, alright?"

  My brows rose. "I do not brood," I protested.

  "Yeah, you kind of do," he replied, still grinning. "But in a cool guy way. You just have to make sure not to be too cool, you know?"

  "Your hero worship of me is flattering, but necessary right now," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

  Rob laughed. "You know I'm right," he said, bumping his fist against my shoulder again. "It's not hero worship, I'm psyched for you! It's about time you settled down and got yourself a mate to come home to." His eyes softened, going far away. "I just want you to be happy, boss. The way Jocelyn makes me happy."

  I smiled, thinking of the adorable little fox shifter Rob had found and mated with some years ago. Jocelyn was cut from the same sweet soul Rob was, I was sure of it. Rob had always been cheery and easygoing, but since he met her he basically wandered through life on cloud nine.

  Part of me had been envious of that. Bears were naturally solitary but we weren't above craving companionship. There was a reason I had chosen a life that put me in constant interaction with people like Rob and the rest of my crew. I liked taking care of people, feeding this town and the creatures that passed through on their migrations.

  There was something about Winter that pinged that same instinct in me. I didn't know anything about her except for what she looked like and that she had a one-year-old. Yet, as soon as I saw her dark eyes and her slight, enticing smile, I had been lost. It was like someone reached their hand in my chest, took a hold of my spine and tugged.

  I desperately wanted to get to know her, to earn her trust, to take care of her and see her want for nothing. I could only hope she liked what she saw, and how I behaved, enough to give me the chance.

  Nervous, impatient energy greeted me as I got in my truck and looked up her address. I drove over and arrived a few minutes before six in front of her house. I wished I had a chance to shower before coming here, but the scent wasn't too bad.

  I walked up to the front door. Her house was small and quaint, no real adornment on the outside, and the lawn was in desperate need of mowing once it thawed, but it had a charming quality to it. The scent of a young one clung to the air as well. I could catch traces of another scent, one I assumed was Winter's. It was bright and crisp like the first wave of ocean breezes in the morning.

  I squared my shoulders, took a deep breath, and knocked.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  WINTER

  I opened the door, revealing Duncan in the halo of light from my automatic porch light. He looked just as good as he did in his picture, with five o'clock shadow and his hair windswept, cheeks a little flushed. He had a plastic bag in his hand, the tails of two fish sticking out, and was wearing dark jeans and a thick black coat and heavy boots.

  "Hi," I said, smiling. He dipped his head respectfully. I stepped back to let him inside, taking his coat and hanging it up. It smelled vaguely of fish and the sea, but it wasn't too bad a stink. He was wearing a black turtleneck underneath, that hugged his broad shoulders and thick chest.

  He looked good enough to eat, and that wasn't just because I had barely eaten all day. I bit my lower lip, looking down as we stood in the front hallway. He was much taller than me, big and built like a, well, like a bear.

  I laughed nervously, fidgeting. "Sorry. It's been a while," I said, brushing past him and heading towards the kitchen.

  He followed right behind me, smiling in a way that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. "Same here," he admitted, and set the fish on the kitchen counter. I opened a cabinet and took out a ceramic baking dish, as well as a knife for him to fillet the fish or whatever he wanted to do with it.

  "My kitchen's all yours," I said. "I don't have any wine or beer, unfortunately."

  "That's alright," he replied. "Water would be great, honestly. Working on the sea all day is dehydrating."

  "I can imagine." I took two glasses and filled them with water from the fridge, setting one beside his workstation as he unwrapped the fish. They were huge whole salmon, mouths agape and blank eyes staring up at me. I watched him work, leaning against the fridge, impressed by the way he efficiently cut off the heads and opened their bellies, removing the insides with quick, expert motions.

  "So." He looked at me. Christ, his eyes were even more penetrating in person. I felt like he was staring right into my soul. "How long have you been a fisherman for?"

  He smiled. "Born and raised," he replied, turning his attention back to the fish. He put the guts and heads in the wrapping paper, then in the plastic bag, and threw the whole package away. I gestured to the cabinet where I kept my spices, watching him take out lemon juice and crushed rosemary. "Literally. My mother gave birth to me during a fishing trip. My father was a fisherman too, they would often go sailing together."

  "Wow," I murmured, surprised. "So you've always been around Nome?"

  "I travelled a little, went to college out of state, but basically," he replied. "Flunked out in the second year. I guess I always belonged on the water." I nodded, taking a sip. "What about you? Your profile didn't mention what you do."

  I smiled, blushing a little when his eyes met mine again, a flutter of anticipation in my stomach. He was so big, and his personality was that calming, soothing kind of personality. His voice was low and a little raspy, probably hoarse from having to shout over the noise of the ocean to his crew. It was like being wrapped up in a warm blanket in front of a campfire. I was relaxed and at ease in his company, which was novel enough to knock me off guard. "I'm a writer," I told him. "I write research articles, proposals, stuff like that."

  "Proposals?"

  "Basically, when a company wants to apply for a big contract, they need to write that contract up and make sure to cover budget, time, product necessities. So they send it all to me, I make it sound really attractive, and give it to them to send it to whoever's hiring."

  "Oh." He paused in preparing the fish to take a drink of water, his hands smearing the glass. He then preheated the oven, greased the dish, and laid the fish inside. "That sounds...tedious, to be honest."

  I laughed. "It really is," I said. "But it pays well. And I do research reports too, sometimes I get something that's interesting, but it's a lot of busy work someone else is too important or too busy or too lazy to do themselves."

  "I get that," he said. "Or, I guess I don't get it, so I get it. I can't imagine not being on the front lines of my work, knowing that if I'm doing it I know it gets done right."

  I arched a brow. "You don't trust your crew?" I teased.

  "I do," he replied, nodding, and smiled back at me. Lord, his smile was infectious, and so naturally pleasant on his face. He didn't look like he was in his thirties when he smiled like that. "I trust them with my life, but they also trust me, so I owe it to them to make sure everything's running smoothly, as much as I can."

  "You're protective of them," I murmured.

  "I am," he agreed with another nod. "They're like my family, these days. My...clan, I guess."

  I smiled at the word. "Got to find 'em somewhere."

  "What about you? Do you have any family here, besides your daughter?"

  "No," I replied, shaking my head. "My mom lives in Oregon, I moved here a few years ago after high school." I could tell he was curious why, so I added; "I've always loved the wilderness, and how isolated it is out here. No one for miles around, just us and the snow and the sea. I find it peaceful, and it's a good place to write."

  He took that in, and then let out a small agreeing sound. "I get that. Still, I guess it can get lonely."

  I hummed. The oven beeped, and I winced at the sound, watching him open the door and push the dish in before he turned to wash his hands. I admired the way his clothes clung to his body, arms and shoulders tensing as he washed his hands. Damn, he looked good. I couldn't wait to see, if things went well, what he looked like underneath those clothes. Bears tended to live a rough life, but if he didn't belong to a proper clan then he probably didn't get into many physical fights. Tyler had been scarred to all Hell from various scuffles and dominance fights. Duncan might have a few marks himself.

  My best friend back in high school, Rosie, always liked to joke that chicks dug scars. She said they were like war wounds, and every one had a story. I had always laughed at her, but maybe she was right. The stories behind Tyler's scars were always similar, but they fascinated me. I was sure Duncan's would do the same.

  He finished washing his hands, and turned around, leaning back so his weight rested against the counter. He looked comfortable here. I tilted my head to one side. "I take it you cook for yourself a lot, then," I guessed.

  He nodded, smiling. "I like feeding people," he said.

  "Well, if this works out, feel free to feed me whenever you want," I replied, a little shocked to find that I meant it. I already felt so comfortable around him, in a way I rarely was with other people. His smile widened, making his eyes crinkle again. Those dark, bottomless eyes. A girl could lose herself in them.

  He cleared his throat, pressing his lips together. I realized we had been staring at each other for a few minutes. His eyes dropped to the baby monitor strapped to my hip. He cleared his throat again.

  I smiled, taking another drink. "Go on, ask."

  "What's your daughter's name?"

  "Dahlia," I said. "Like the flower."

  "That's pretty," he murmured. "She's one, you said?" I nodded. "I... I'm sorry, I have to ask."

  I nodded. I expected this kind of questioning. If I wasn't so comfortable around him, I might have hedged on the answer or told him I wasn't ready to share, but the fact of the matter was that I was comfortable around him. I felt at ease and relaxed in his presence. Protectiveness and calm oozed off him like sunlight, in a way I had never felt before.

  "It's okay," I assured him, smiling. I sighed, looking down into my glass and swirling the water around. I wished I had something stronger to drink, I would make sure to keep a small stock if Duncan decided he wanted to visit me again. "So, two years ago, I met a bear shifter named Tyler. We had fun, spent a lot of time together, I thought it was going somewhere. Then one day I find out I'm pregnant. I didn't tell him, but I think he knew. He disappeared not long after and I haven't seen him since."

  I shrugged, and took another drink.

  Duncan frowned, his thick brows low over his dark eyes and his lips turned down at the corners. He folded his arms across his chest and huffed. "I'm sorry," he said. I merely hummed. "No, I mean -. Yeah, that's a really shitty thing to do under normal circumstances, but I find it particularly annoying when it's my kind that pulls that sort of asshole move."

  "We were young," I said, lifting my shoulder in another shrug. "Honestly I should have just been more careful, but I wasn't."

  "Don't put that on yourself," he said. "It takes two to make a baby, and two people share that responsibility. If he knew, then that makes it even worse."

  "I don't want anyone who stays just because they think they have to," I said, a tad sharply. He tilted his head to one side at my defensive tone. I sighed again. "That was what my parents had, until dad did end up actually leaving. I would rather raise Dahlia on my own than be with someone where we're both miserable but staying together for the sake of the kids. That ruins three lives, not just one. I think I can do a good job with Dahlia on my own, I don't need him."

 

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