Page 52 of Combust
“I think I’d be up for that,” Cade said, trying to deny the trickle of relief he felt at her suggestion. Sheer cussed pride made him add, “Though, if I’m gonna join the fire department, I will stand ready to help in whatever way I’m needed.”
“Maggie’s right. We’re short of EMTs, especially now that Fred Barker’s retired.” Dane’s lips quirked. “Of course, that depends on how you do at the sight of blood.”
Cade shrugged. “Don’t have a problem with it.”
It was the truth. He’d spent enough time hunting in his bear form that his human half had long ago stopped being squeamish.
Lord knew, he’d been hungry and penniless a lot in his younger years. More often than not, he’d had to forage for his meals as a bear or go without.
“Good,” Dane said. He smiled. “Once we finish dessert, I’ll walk you through signing up for the classes and training you’ll need.”
“Speaking of dessert,” Annabeth said as she rose from the table. “I hope you don’t mind leftovers from the bakery. One of the big custard tarts didn’t sell, and I also threw in a few pecan tartlets, a couple of pumpkin mini-Bundt cakes, and a bunch of gingerbread cookies.”
Later, as he and Dane loaded the dishwasher in amiable silence, Cade realized that it wasn’t just Maggie’s approval that he’d been craving.
As a clanless shifter, most of the other bear shifters he’d met before coming here had treated him like something nasty stuck to the bottom of their boots.
But not the Swansons, and especially not Dane.
I’ll do whatever it takes to remain part of this clan.
* * *
Saturday, November 22
Maggie and Cade spent their day off in bear shape, wandering the upper reaches of the ranch together.
Maggie walked at the side of the huge, scarred male grizzly up the slopes of the ridge. She wore a backpack that Cade had put on her after she shifted, stuffed with a generous picnic lunch for the two of them.
Cade had initially been taken aback at her request. “A bear wearin’ a backpack? What if someone sees you? Ain’t they gonna wonder?”
“No one’s going to see us, silly. This is private property.”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
Then the implications of his objection sank in. “You don’t use backpacks when you’re out in the wilderness? What do you do with your stuff while your bear’s in charge?” she asked.
“I stash my clothes and food up in a tree before I shift.” He paused, then added, darkly, “If I’m lucky, they’re still there when I get back. I fuckinghateraccoons.”
Not for the first time, Maggie wondered how he’d been raised. Every shifter she knew used backpacks, since the straps could be adjusted to fit a variety of animal shapes.
She shifted, and he carefully put the pack on her. It was sweet how he took care to adjust the straps around her forelegs and around her chest so that the pack was loose enough to walk comfortably on all fours, while still tight enough to stay put and not flop around annoyingly.
Along the way to the special picnic site she’d promised to show him, the two bears passed through stands of fragrant lodgepole pine, where their paws sank through the fluffy, frozen cover to the dense, springy carpet of needles below. It had snowed overnight, leaving the pastures covered with a blanket of pure, sparkling white. The storm cleared right after dawn, revealing a breathtaking panorama of snowy hills and mountains framed by deep blue skies.
They reached the banks of the creek, where clear water steamed in the icy air as it tumbled over rounded rocks and frothed between boulders.
She led him to her favorite spot on the ranch, which was also the Swanson’s family best-kept secret: a small hot spring that boiled up from a cleft near the top of the ridge. Its heated, sulfurous waters flowed into the creek, keeping it ice-free year-round.
Years ago, Grandma Elle and Great-Aunt Margaret had launched the ranch’s very successful bed-and-breakfast operation after their mates were killed in separate incidents, leaving them widowed with young children. At that time, they had debated using the clan’s private hot spring to attract visitors, but had ultimately decided to keep it a secret from outsiders.
In the century and a half that the Swansons had owned this property, several generations had constructed a series of pools along the banks of the creek to trap the steaming water. It cooled as it flowed from one rock-lined basin into the next, allowing bathers to pick their ideal temperature.
Maggie emerged from the forest, her sensitive bear nose wrinkling at the overpowering fumes of rotten eggs, then shifted back to her other shape.
She shivered as the icy winter air kissed her naked human skin, and quickly waded into her favorite pool, which was densely wreathed in steam. She sighed with pleasure as she sank down chin-deep into the water. The heat soaked into her bones, and soothed all of her bruises and sore spots.
Admittedly, she’d had a whole lot of fun acquiring those, but these healing waters were exactly what she needed right now.
