Page 2 of Cowboy Bear's Hope

Of course, Jed handled the goats. All those Dolly Lees, Dolly Whos, and Dolly Whats, were his babies. That was just fine with me. Ornery little critters.

Max had dubbed this place the Motley Crewd Ranch, and I had to hand it to the millionaire Jersey Devil, it was a fairly apt description for it. And for us.

That was what we were alright, a mixed up Crew of crude and raunchy Shifters who had a snowball’s chance in hell of making a go of it. And yet, here we were. Trying and shit.

It was a miracle we hadn’t killed each other yet.

Especially Kian. How that Bull managed to survive each day to see the next was a riddle I’d yet to solve.

My own inner Grizzly urged me to take a bite out of the cocky bovine, but so far, I’d managed to control my bestial urges.

Credit for that had something to do with Penny and Jezebel moving onto the property.

Females had a way of making things better. It wasn’t just their presence—it was something deeper, something woven into who they were.

Like they carried a quiet kind of magic, their innate softness following them into even the roughest places.

Somehow, that softness didn’t make them weak. It made them strong in a way that men like me couldn’t quite understand.

It wasn’t about fixing things outright—it was about making the weight of the world feel a little lighter.

They gave men like me—and the others who lived and worked here—something to protect, something to take care of.

Not necessarily in a possessive way, unless they were your mates, but in a way that made us feel more grounded.

As if having someone to anchor you kept the darker parts of you at bay. When you’ve got someone to love, you fight harder to stay good. To be worthy.

That was all I’d ever wanted.

That’s what I’d always imagined mates did for their men. Maybe it was just a story I’d told myself—a fairytale for monsters.

Still, I liked to believe that someone out there could see beyond the beast, beyond the scars. Someone to remind me that even the roughest hands were capable of gentleness.

It wasn’t about needing saving. It was more about finding balance.

And in a place like this, surrounded by sweat, dirt, and demons of the past, balance was everything.

Mates brought balance. At least, that was what I thought.

Turned out, I was fucking wrong.

Dead wrong.

I rubbed my forehead and growled at the not so long ago memory of a metal bat colliding with my thick skull. It had been wielded by the tiniest, curviest, and angriest woman I had ever met in my whole life.

Which was saying something since I grew up with Sows. I should tell you, proverbial Mama Bears were much worse in the flesh.

Anyway, I wished that was the worst of our encounters, but nope. That little firecracker got me again and again.

Maybe not with a bat. But Avery didn’t need a weapon to attack. She did just fine with her razor sharp tongue.

I was starting to think no was her favorite word.

The point I was making was, no, I wasn’t searching for a mate. I was not looking for that elusive dream of a woman to come busting down my door to save me from a life of loneliness or lead me to one of love.

That is, I wasn’t doing that anymore.

See, I knew damn well who my fated mate was.

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