Bear His Love Read online

  “I’m sure when I’m ready to find a mate, I’ll be plenty happy about it,” Brock said, leaning down to give his mother a kiss on the cheek goodbye.

  “I know you’re going to be an exceptional clan leader, Brock,” his father said, giving him a few hard slaps on the back. His inner grizzly growled as his father smacked him slightly too hard to be considered affectionate. He narrowed his eyes and growled down at his father who had already lost some of his youthful height.

  “Thanks dad,” Brock said, nodding at the older man. His dad took his mom’s hand and walked with her out to their car, where he opened the door and helped her inside.

  All his life Brock’s mom and dad had been wildly in love and affectionate towards each other. They truly were fated mates and perfect for each other. That was part of the reason the idea of just randomly finding a mate the first day he became clan leader made him a little nervous. How was he going to find the perfect woman for him just because his family was giving him pressure? He wanted what his parents had. He wanted to have a happily ever after--if he ever found a woman at all, that was.

  At this point in time, all Brock really wanted was to be left alone to run his business and lead his tours out into the backcountry. There was nothing that he loved more than the smell of the forest air in the morning or the feeling of a big salmon wriggling on the end of his fly-fishing line. He liked his alone time, his privacy, his peace and quiet. He just didn’t know how a woman was going to ever fit into that lifestyle, or if he wanted one to fit into it at all.

  As the leader of the Montgomery clan, he knew that eventually he was going to have to find somebody to settle down with. But he certainly wasn’t ready for that to be today.

  Chapter Four

  Ginger ran her finger under the phone number on the Montgomery Wilderness Guides advertisement in the Yellow Pages. She pulled out her cell phone and flipped it open, quickly dialing the number with the last of her cell phone minutes. On the third ring, someone answered.

  “Brock Montgomery,” a gruff masculine voice said on the other end of the line.

  “Hi, my name is Ginger Allen. I need someone to take me out into the backcountry to my father’s old hunting lodge. He just passed away, and there’s something out there he wanted me to retrieve. I need to get out there as quickly as possible. Would you be able to help me?”

  “I don’t have any other tours scheduled for the next couple of days, so I’m free to take you out there. Meet me out at the Montgomery Lodge in forty-five minutes and we can set up the details. You’re welcome to stay at the Lodge overnight, and we can leave in the morning. Does that work for you?”

  “Sure, I’ll meet you out there in forty-five minutes,” she said, having no idea how she was going to make it out to the Montgomery Lodge or how she was going to pay for any of it. Babs Bula seemed to think that Brock was the right guide to take her out to her father’s land and that he would be willing to make a deal with her, so Ginger just kept her budget to herself for the time being. She would find a way out to the lodge somehow, even if she had to walk there.

  Brock gave her the address and she quickly wrote it on a paper napkin she still had from her lunch. When she got off the phone with Brock, her heart was making these bubbling sensations she’d only experienced when she had a crush on someone. That had been a very long time ago.

  Ever since her father got sick, and she had to leave school and move back to Seattle, Ginger’s life had revolved around taking care of her father. Now that he was gone and she had nothing left, the bubbling feelings in her heart caught her completely off guard.

  She looked down at the address on her napkin and had absolutely no idea how to get there. She no longer had any minutes on her phone. Even if she could get Internet reception through her network in Juneau, Alaska, she didn’t have any data left to look it up. She went inside the restaurant, stepped up to the hostess counter, and showed her the napkin.

  “Do you have any idea how to get out to the Montgomery Lodge?” Ginger asked.

  “Oh yeah, take the main road south out of town for about two miles. Take a left on Montgomery Way, and a mile up the road you’ll find the Montgomery Lodge. You can’t miss it. Just don’t turn off onto any of the other roads along Montgomery Way because that will lead you out to one of the other Montgomery homesteads.”

  “Okay, I’ve got it. Thank you,” Ginger said, shoving the napkin into her pocket and turning out the door onto the sidewalk. It was already late afternoon, but the sun was still shining brightly in the western sky. She took a deep breath and let it out, realizing that she was going to have a long three-mile hike ahead of her just to make it out to the lodge. Once she actually hired the wilderness guide, she would have to make the trek all the way up to her father’s homestead. As far as she knew, that was twenty miles through rough terrain. Even though Ginger was completely unequipped to make a journey like that, she had to do it. It was the only way to salvage any of the life she’d once believed she could have.

  She began walking down the sidewalk until it disappeared into the shoulder of a two-lane highway leading out of town. Cars zoomed by in either direction, and the sun began to slip lower on the horizon. The chill came back into the air and it cooled the sweat inside Ginger’s thin jacket, making her even colder. She hugged herself tightly, placing one foot in front of the other.

  She finally came to a signpost that said Montgomery Way, and took a left up the well-maintained gravel road. Twilight was descending quickly, and the cold was already getting under her skin when a pair of headlights came up quickly behind her.

  She turned to see a brand-new pickup truck stopping on the side of the road behind her. The driver’s side door open and a man stepped out in front of the headlights. In the dim light of the setting sun, with the headlights glaring behind him, the man’s body was in silhouette. She could see that he was incredibly tall with broad shoulders and a slim waist. He wore form-fitting jeans that tapered down to heavy boots, and an insulated all-weather jacket that must’ve kept him plenty warm.

  As he stepped forward and her eyes adjusted, she could make out the features of his face. He had high cheekbones and a square jaw covered in dark, day-old stubble. Ginger sucked in a breath when his forest green eyes came into focus, and he flicked his tongue over his full, sexy lips.

  “What are you doing walking down the road like this?” he asked, inspecting her from head to toe. He leaned forward slightly and sniffed the air, at which point his eyes grew wide and he leaned back again, putting his hands on his hips and shaking his head.

  “I’m Ginger Allen. You asked me to meet you out here in forty-five minutes. I’m afraid I’m a little bit late.”

  “You’re not late. You’re right on time. I’ll give you a ride the rest of the way. Climb in the truck.”

  Ginger was so grateful to get out of the cold she didn’t ask any further questions or make any further comment. She just climbed into the passenger side of his truck, put on her seatbelt, and sighed in the warm air from the heater.

  Brock drove for the rest of the way to the Montgomery Lodge and parked in front of a big log building that looked like it had been retrofitted and remodeled from a century-year-old cabin. She got out of the car and took in the surroundings in the fading light from the sun.

  “Come on inside,” Brock said, trotting up the stairs to the front porch of the lodge. She followed him inside to an entrance hall that was full of comfortable couches and tables and chairs.

  “It’s used as a meeting hall and as a hotel for our wilderness guide guests. Would you like a cup of tea?” he asked, pouring himself a cup of hot water from a stainless steel urn. He dipped the teabag into the water and set it on the table where this urn was housed.

  “I’d love one,” she said with a sigh as she sat on one of the couches beside a fireplace with a flickering fire inside. He made her a cup of tea and set it on the side table beside her chair, and then sat across from her with his own cup.

  “So, Gi
nger Allen, why did you walk all the way out here? There are plenty of buses and taxis in Juneau that could have brought you to the Lodge.”

  “Well, the thing is, I only have two hundred dollars, and I need that to pay for your services.”

  “And you intend to go twenty miles out into the backcountry in that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You are ill-equipped to make the journey. Those shoes will be chewing up your feet in no time. I can’t carry you in or out. You’re going to need to be able to make the hike yourself.”

  “I can make it. I have to make it. There’s no other choice. Will you take me out there for two hundred dollars?”

  “Two hundred dollars is about half my fee for what you’re talking about. But since your father owned land out in the backcountry for so many years, I’ll do it for the two hundred. We take care of our own around here. Where are you planning to stay tonight?”

  “I don’t know. I have a sleeping bag in my backpack. I was just going to sleep in the woods.”

  Brock shook his head and then looked at her seriously. “Okay, I don’t usually do charity. But I need to get out of town, and your situation is a bit intriguing to me. We’ll get you outfitted from the wilderness supply store here in the lodge, and you can sleep in one of our guest rooms tonight. I’ll do all that for two hundred bucks. Only because you’re the daughter of Frank Allen and want to go out to the Allen hunting cabin. I knew your father when I was a kid. He was good man.”

  “Thank you,” she stuttered. “I don’t know how to repay you.” Ginger was cold and exhausted, still hungry even after her lunch. Brock was giving her more than she could have ever expected. A tear broke from the corner of her eye and slid down her face. Brock looked taken aback. His face softened and then his eyes became distant again.

  “You can repay me by not getting yourself killed out in the backcountry. I’ll take you up to your father’s land. You can take care of whatever it is that he needed to take care of up there. Helping you out is all the payment I need. Aside from the two hundred bucks.”

  Chapter Five

  Brock showed Ginger to one of the guest suites on the second floor of the lodge. She dropped her backpack on the bed and slid into a rocking chair. Brock knelt in front of the fireplace in the corner and began to build a fire for her. She watched his strong back as he bent over the hearth, arranging the wood just right. He lit a match and kindled a wadded up bundle of newspaper. Moments later, there was a flickering fire radiating warmth through her bedroom.

  The queen-sized log poll bed was covered in a handmade patchwork quilt. It looked incredibly comfortable and was calling her name. Her eyes felt like they were beginning to droop shut and she would lull herself to sleep at any moment. She stretched in the rocking chair when Brock stood from the fireplace.

  “I’m so tired,” she said, yawning.

  “If you need anything to eat, the kitchen downstairs is fully stocked. There’s an oven and a microwave. Feel free to use anything you need.”

  “Are you leaving?” she asked, suddenly feeling like she didn’t want to be alone.

  “I don’t live at the Lodge. I live in my own cabin around the corner from here, and I’m about to head home. Is there anything else that you need?” He looked down at her with some unreadable expression in his eyes. It was a mixture of fear and sadness and something else she couldn’t pinpoint.

  “No. I’m fine. You’ve been incredibly kind. Thank you for helping me,” she said in a soft voice.

  “Don’t mention that. I’ll see you in the morning, bright and early.”

  With that, he gripped the doorknob and strode out into the hallway. Ginger could hear his footsteps clomping down the stairs, and the front door of the Lodge opening and closing behind him. She let out a long breath and sighed, rocking in the rocking chair. She was alone.

  Something inside her seemed to crave Brock’s presence. It was really the most ridiculous thing, but his leaving made her feel suddenly empty in some way. It was almost as if she wanted to cry. She decided the emotions were simply an expression of her fatigue and she needed to go to bed.

  She peeled off her clothes and climbed under the clean, comfortable blankets on the soft mattress, and laid her head on the down filled pillow. Her whole body screamed its exhaustion as her tight muscles slowly unwound and relaxed. Her bed at home was nowhere near as comfortable as this. Its lumpy mattress had been in the same place since she was three years old.

  Ginger had been a child prodigy on the violin, and had gone to study in the Conservatory in New York as soon as she graduated high school. When she was at the Conservatory, she’d lived in the dorms. With her bright future and shining talent, Ginger had never expected to wind up broke and alone and homeless. But when her father took ill, she’d had to leave school and go home to take care of him. There was no other choice; she wasn’t going to let her father die alone with no one to nurse him.

  Then, while she was helping her father from his hospital bed to his wheelchair, her grip had slipped and she’d broken her hand in several places. She could no longer play violin at the level she had before. Her career was over. She still owed over one hundred thousand dollars in loans for a degree she hadn’t even finished.

  With the mounting student loan debt from the expensive private musical conservatory school that she was unable to finish, her father’s medical bills and tax debt, Ginger was left less than penniless when he finally passed away.

  Ginger squeezed her eyes closed, trying to black out the memories of her broken dreams. If she could find the gold her father had stashed up at the hunting cabin, she could possibly pay off his tax debts and have a little bit left to start over again. She was skilled enough at music that she could give children lessons or play in a bluegrass band.

  She could do none of those things until she had at least a little bit of financial security, because at this point Ginger had nothing and no home to even go back to. Her father’s condo had already been foreclosed upon the day she left for Alaska. The last two hundred dollars to her name was slated for Brock and the journey out into the backcountry.

  If her father’s stories about the gold he’d panned from the stream that ran through his land were just the ravings of a dying man, Ginger would be far worse off than she was before. She would be stranded in Alaska with no way back to Seattle or any of the people she knew there.

  A tear slid down her face and plopped on her pillow. She missed her father. She missed the dreams she once had as a young woman. All that kept her going was the hope that she could pay the tax debt on her father’s beloved hunting cabin and have something left of him that would help her carry on with her life.

  With a heavy heart, Ginger slowly fell asleep.

  In the morning, her stomach rumbled loudly and woke her up from fitful dreams. She groaned and sat up in bed, wiping the sleep from her eyes. Today would be the day that Brock would take her out into the backcountry for the first time. She threw her legs over the side of the bed and stepped down onto the cold wood floor.

  She took a shower in the bathroom off her bedroom and got dressed in a clean pair of clothes with thermal underwear underneath. She slipped into her worn-out Converse, and trotted down the stairs to the main floor of the lodge. Brock had mentioned that she could find food in the kitchen, so she searched around the first floor until she found a gleaming stainless steel kitchen suitable for a small restaurant.

  She opened the refrigerator, pulled out eggs and bacon, and began cooking them in the pans on the gas stove. She found coffee, cream, and sugar, and made herself a pot in the coffee pot on the counter. In no time, she had herself a hearty breakfast and a cup of coffee that she took to sit in the window seat looking out on the backyard behind the lodge.

  There was a garden outside with mature trees and shrubs. Though late in the season, goldenrod and Russian sage still bloomed in a profusion of yellow and purple. Little pink flowers lined the flowerbeds in front of the larger flowering shrubs. A
manicured lawn stretched out under the kitchen window, inviting her to come outside and walk around.

  She heard the front door of the lodge open and close, and the sound of boots walking across the polished wood floors. A second later, Brock popped into the kitchen, dressed in his outdoor clothes, ready for the trek into the backcountry. Ginger looked down at her shabby street gear and frowned. Brock had been right--there was no way she would make it all the way to her father’s hunting lodge dressed like this.

  “I see you found the food. Good. You won’t be hungry. When you’re done, we’ll start finding you the appropriate gear to make the trek.”

  “I’m ready now,” she said, standing with her plate and mug. She rinsed them off in the sink and set them on the counter before following Brock out into the main room of the lodge. He unlocked a door and flicked on the lights inside.

  Beyond was a small outdoor supply store, with everything from sleeping bags to hiking boots.

  “We don’t have much of a selection, but we should have enough to fill your needs. The first thing we need to find you is a proper pair of shoes. What’s your size?” He asked.

  “Seven and a half,” she said, looking through all of the racks of clothing and shelves of cooking gear. Brock handed her a shoebox and pointed to a chair in the corner.

  “Try these on. This is the only style we have but we do have your size.”

  Ginger went to the chair and changed into the hiking boots. When she had them laced up she walked around, testing the fit and the feel. She had owned a few pairs of hiking boots in her life, and these seemed to fit the bill.

  “I think these should work just fine,” she said.

  “You’re going to need some pants and a jacket at least,” he said. Ginger had seen the price tags on most of the high-quality outdoor gear they had in the store. It was pricey stuff--just the shoes were worth half of what she was going to pay Brock for his services. He thrust a jacket into her hands and then flicked through the racks of pants before picking out a pair and pushing them into her arms as well. She was slightly embarrassed that he had picked her exact size.