Page 29 of Bear Strength

I see acceptance in her eyes. She is a doe, a sweet little thing. And, I’m ready to hunt.

CHAPTER 14

We find the lake easily. I follow him in my car. He offered to take me there with his bike, and then back to the car, but I refused. I’m not a fan of bikes. Never have been. Especially not now that they are driving my son. I just can’t trust someone else with my life. Not again.

Wagner gets off his bike, then waits for me to park. He’s so different from Mason. Even more different from Adrian. Mason is your regular playboy. Charming, handsome. He’s got all the moves. I doubt any woman has ever said no to him. He’s the kind of guy painters and sculptors from back in the Renaissance era would fight for, to use him as their muse. And, he’d be happy to oblige.

Adrian is his polar opposite. I wonder when was the last time he was with a woman. He seems clumsy, strange, but so endearing. So sweet. You just want to hug him. Like a big teddy bear, and then tell him all your secrets, because you know he will never ever tell them to another living soul.

But, Wagner… I can’t even place him anywhere between these two. He’s in a league of his own. Mischievous and naughty, but also brave. He doesn’t back down. I can imagine him in a boxing arena, not losing a single fight. He’d end up with a broken nose, but that would be all. I think he’d even look more attractive with a broken nose. That’d give him an edge. Not like he doesn’t have an edge now. But, still.

He looks about the same age as Mason. I’ve heard that shifters’ lives are longer, so he could be almost a 100 and look like he’s 30. That would be a good question to ask. But, we aren’t close. We aren’t close at all. What do we talk about? Suddenly,I’m nervous. And, I don’t even know what to call this. A date? Just one person thanking another for some help? Yes, that should be alright. Anything but a date.

I take a moment or two to get out of the car, not taking my eyes off of him. He’s slightly tanned, his beard is trimmed, and I see tattoos running down his arms. I noticed snakes and skulls when he first stopped to help, and curiosity got the best of me. I have no tattoos of my own, but I’ve always wanted one. Of course, I was always told that I knew what would happen if I change anything on my body, without prior permission. My own body wasn’t my own. Now that it is, I’ll probably go ahead with that tattoo at some point. Maybe when Dominick turns 18. I don’t want to give him wrong ideas before he comes of age. Once he’s old enough, he can make that decision on his own.

“Here we are,” Wagner tells me, spreading his arms in front of him.

He looks huge, like a whole mountain of a man. His ripped body bulges underneath his t-shirt, threatening to tear it at the seams. I wouldn’t mind witnessing that sight. All three of them are in amazingly good shape. But, I guess that comes easy when you take good care of yourself. I’ve only started to do this lately, and it feels wonderful when you can finally focus on yourself a little. That inner glow lights up again and you feel like a new and improved version of yourself.

I walk over to him with my tote bag, and just stand there, allowing the view to wash over me. The little lake is glistening softly, the sun sparkling like a million little diamonds on the placid surface. Several weeping willows enshroud the banks, bending over the water, as if truly weeping for the separation of air and water, and an everlasting desire to come together. There is a sandy part underneath every tree, shady enough to nestle yourself there and just enjoy the view. I had no idea that Swallow Springs had such hidden gems around.

He starts there first, and I follow silently, towards the nearest tree. The birds are chirping somewhere in the distance, and the sounds of the forest soothe us both. I feel like taking off my shoes and entering the water, but I feel too embarrassed to do that. I guess I’m still too hung up on what others will think of me. He sits down underneath the closest tree and takes off his leather jacket, spreading it next to him.

“Here, sit on this.”

I eye him strangely, as if he’s speaking a different language. He has to pat the jacket again for me to finally sit down.

“I wasn’t expecting this from you,” I tell him, putting down my bag and getting the sandwich out.

“Wasn’t expecting what?”

“This gentlemanly gesture.”

“The jacket?” he asks, and I nod. “I may be an asshole most of the time, but there are still some leftovers of my good upbringing.”

I smile to that. I remember Adrian and his story, which explained his eccentric behavior. Anyone who was sold off to the circus was allowed to have a quirk or two. Now, I’m sure that Wagner also probably has something similar lurking in his past. Maybe a tough childhood as well? Family drama? Some betrayal? A broken heart maybe?

But, I won’t ask. Not only is it impolite, but I’m still a little intimidated by him.

I know it’s contradictory. I’m scared, but I agreed to come here with him. Alone. Without anyone around. But, my mind knows the difference. This is not the kind of fear that makes you think someone will hurt you. I know that fear well. It’s an old acquaintance, one that has been trying to become a good friend for years now. But, I won’t allow it. This fear I’m feeling is more intimate. I’m afraid that he might tell me something abouthimself, something deeply personal, something that will make me think him more a human and less an animal, something that will make me like him more. Then, more and more. And, there will be no end to this.

I can’t let that happen. I can’t care for anyone. I can’t love anyone. It’s too dangerous. My life is still a mess, and even though we’re physically far away from the past that haunts us, it is never too far away in my mind. It’s just one step behind, and that is too close for comfort. I can’t get involved with anyone and put their lives in danger, just like ours are. That would be too selfish.

Trying not to think about the past and just enjoy the present moment, I find the sandwich in my tote bag and I manage to separate it into two unequal parts.

“Here,” I offer him the bigger part. “You’re the man. You need to eat more. Plus, you deserve the bigger piece for helping me out.”

“If you say so,” he smiles, taking the sandwich.

We both start eating in silence. I’m looking at the lake, at the sun’s reflection on its surface, but I know his gaze is fixated on me. I can feel the heat of his gaze on my cheek, but I dare not turn and face him. I pretend I’m focused on my sandwich. It’s less awkward. We finish quickly, and I take out my thermos.

“It’s not that cold yet,” I say, after taking a sip. “We could share it.”

“Not a coffee drinker,” he reminds me.

“I thought every biker drank coffee.”

“That’s beer,” he corrects me, with a smile.

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