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Bear Fate: A Billionaire Oil Bearons Romance (Bear Fursuits Book 8) by Isadora Montrose (15)

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Calvin~

About the time his SUV was rumbling down the side road towards the Diegos’ house and the small cabin that Carlos and Rosa were renting to Amber, it finally dawned on Calvin that he was about to make a fool of himself. What he wanted to do was scoop Amber up and carry her off to the Big House where the security was as tight as Steve Holden’s experts could make it.

Unfortunately, he had about a snowball’s chance in hell of persuading her to move into Laura’s house. Amber was sure to assert her independence and insist on remaining in the cabin. And he had no way of compelling her to do the sensible thing. Hell, he didn’t even have an invitation from Laura, let alone a direct order.

He stepped on his brakes. The SUV obeyed and glided to a smooth halt on the snow-covered road. The lights of Carlos’ and Rosa’s house glimmered through the trees. The cabin was a glow from behind the house, reflecting off the snow on their roof. Amber was home and up. He turned off his vehicle and thought.

He needed proof that she was in danger. If that damned snake wanted to do her an injury, his best strategy would be to slip out of jail, attack her, and return to his cell before he was missed. That would be a piece of cake for a snake shifter who could leave by the ventilation system, or any other set of vents. Even a drain would do in a pinch. He had better scout around the cabin and make sure Blondie had not already paid her a visit.

A snow bank that had been broken by cows moving between pastures made a perfect spot to conceal the SUV. Cal got out into the frigid air and began to strip. He disapproved of taking bear anywhere. Doing so on the ranch with dozens of people around was simply asking for trouble. He ignored his shivering and reached into the SUV to turn off the overhead lights.

When he was completely naked and standing barefooted in the snow, he began his transformation. He fucking hated this. The wrenching pain as his bones broke and reformed was excruciating. He set his jaw against the feral bellow that threatened to give him away and endured. It seemed to take forever before the change was complete and he was equipped with large paws and a heavy coat. When he set off towards the trees, his face still ached as if he had been punched in the jaw.

But his eyesight had sharpened. The snow reflected enough light that he could clearly see the tracks of the hares and deer that had been visiting the ranch. His hearing improved too. He distinctly heard boots squeaking in the snow and tramping up onto Amber’s wooden porch. The boots stamped, knocking off snow. A brisk knock followed.

The door opened. Had she even bothered to check who her visitor was before she opened her door?

“Hey,” Amber’s rich contralto said softly. “Leave your boots on the mat.”

“Thanks,” replied Prescott’s baritone. The door shut and blocked all but a murmur. That bastard was kissing her.

Cal reminded himself that he had not come out to spy on the girl. He was looking for sign of a villain. He resisted the impulse to batter down the door and forcibly remove Prescott. Now that Kenneth and Lucy were home, Steve had better get on with investigating that bastard. They had a duty to protect Amber against fortune hunters.

The paths that led to the Diegos and the stables were packed down by those worn-out boots of Amber’s. He made a note to speak to Pat about it. Surely Heather could see that her sister was properly dressed? Amber had left her scent behind too. A delectable aroma of nubile female bear that aroused his bear senses and made him eager to seek her out. Except that he knew exactly where Amber was. What he was looking for was the musky odor of snake.

Although the ground beneath the drooping boughs had been entirely protected from a winter’s worth of snow, the fir trees around the cabin were laden with snow. Each time he stuck his snout under the lowest branches, the pine needles were redolent of deer mice and other small rodents, but there was no smell of snake, let alone snake shifter. Soon his head was covered with snow mixed with pine needles. Melt water trickled into his eyes and nostrils.

Disgruntled, Cal padded on. There were a great many trees. And he was leaving prints the size of pie plates. Fuck. Some cowboy was going to get his shotgun out and fill his sorry ass with buckshot. Couldn’t be helped. He quartered the area right down to the Diegos’ driveway and as far as the stream. He shook snow off by the water and watched as sparkling drops and broken needles pockmarked the unbroken and crusted snow.

He was leaving spoor in a highly indiscreet manner, but at least he had established that the snake had not approached the cabin. Which did not of course mean that Blondie wouldn’t. The cabin only looked rustic. It had been built to withstand Colorado winters with heavily insulated walls and flooring and a sharply pitched roof. The windows were triple glazed and only a fool would open them on a night like this. Amber might be naive, but she wasn’t a fool.

He could go home to his own warm and comfortable bed and leave Amber and Prescott to their evening’s entertainment. Presumably Prescott could handle a snake that crawled through the drains. The hell he could. Cal circled the cabin while their conversation hummed and buzzed. At least if they were talking they were probably not in bed. Unless Prescott hadn’t bothered with preliminaries. Shit. Their chatter was probably preliminaries.

He selected a tall oak that would hold his weight and climbed up to sit in the crook of one of its snow-covered limbs. It was too damned narrow for comfort. Too damned awkward for sleeping. And too damned far from the cabin to hear Amber and Prescott. But at least he could see over the tops of the firs and the roofs of the cabin and house. If anything came, he would hear and see it.

Images of Prescott undressing Amber’s ripe and luscious curves, peeling off her tight jeans to expose her lush thighs and generous rump, tormented Cal. Shit. He was no voyeur. As a rule, other people’s sex lives held zero interest for him. It appeared he was making an exception for this lovely young bear.