Later that evening, after Ginger had dressed in a warm sweater, dark jeans and a pair of leather boots, Brock came to the door of the small room she’d rented in downtown Juneau.

She’d straightened her hair, and it hung in big, soft curls around her shoulders. Brock’s eyes widened when he saw her. “You look nice tonight,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her cheek.

“Thanks, so do you.”

Brock’s muscular frame was shown off by the black jeans and dark sweater he wore. She could smell the scent of his skin and sweet breath when he’d kissed her. Her body lit up at his touch. She reached out to him and pressed her hand to his chest, coming closer.

He reached in and circled his arm around her waist, pulling her against him. Brock swept her jaw up in his hand and tilted her face toward him, planting a passionate kiss on her mouth. Desire melted all over her and she kissed him back.

When he drew away, he took her hand. “Do you need anything else?” he asked her.

“No, this is everything.”

They walked outside into the cool evening. The twilight colors over the bay and the mountains beyond the town swept across her vision. Stars already twinkled in the night sky. She could smell the ocean blowing up from docks, and smiled into the breeze.

Being here in Alaska with Brock was beginning to warm her heart. The devastation of losing her father and her home in the span of a few days was beginning to soften. In that moment, holding Brock’s hand, she could see a way to a better kind of life.

They drove out of town and onto the road leading to the Montgomery homestead and to the lodge. There were cars and trucks parked all over the front of the lodge. There hadn’t been a single car there the day Ginger had spent the night.

A violent wave of terror hit her when she opened her car door. This was Brock’s shifter family. They all had that in common. They all had fated mates whom they knew upon first meeting. Did they know that she was Brock’s fated mate? She didn’t know if she could take all of their searching eyes.

Brock took her hand and smiled at her. “You ready for this?” he asked. “The Montgomery clan can be really intense.”

She stopped and turned to him. “How bad is it?”

“Well...they’re great. I know you’re going to love them. Just don’t let them frighten you off.”

“What? How?” she asked, but it was too late, Brock had already opened the door.

As soon as they walked through, a gaggle of massive grizzly men and a few beautiful, curvy older women came toward them. Everyone spoke all at once.

“This is Ginger, everyone,” Brock said with a slightly raised voice.

They all quieted down when Brock spoke. “Ginger, this is everyone. My mom Nora and my dad Clark.” A man, looking like an older version of Brock, and a pretty, dark haired woman with soft green eyes, stepped forward.

His father shook her hand and his mother hugged her affectionately. Ginger felt instantly at ease with them, even though she wasn’t used to such a big family.

As they walked further into the party, Ginger took in all the other young Montgomery men. She’d met Shaw when James had been arrested. Brock introduced her to his brother Tate next. Tate ran his hand through his dark brown hair that hung over one eye.

“Hi Ginger, it’s nice to meet our clan leader’s new mate,” Tate said.

Brock growled beside her and she looked up at him to see a scowl disappear into a smile. “Tate likes to say inappropriate things to our guests.”

Tate was as tall as Brock and with slim muscles. He was younger and had a wounded look in his eyes.

“Did you know he was the clan leader?” Tate asked, lifting a beer bottle to his lips.

“I did,” Ginger said. “He told me. What he didn’t tell me was that everyone knew I was his mate.”

“I told Mom,” Brock said. “Word travels. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I get it.”

“Someone get the girl a beer,” another voice said, stepping forward. The man who spoke was just as hot and rugged as his brothers, but his shirtsleeves were rolled up to show a riot of tattoos. His face had the beginnings of a beard and he had a devil-may-care look in his eye. He thrust a beer into Ginger’s hand.

“And that is my brother, Keaton,” Brock said.

“I’m the backbone of this family,” Keaton said.

“I thought that was me, considering I helped built all your houses,” a blond, blue eyed man with the Montgomery features said. He was introduced as Zane, a cousin.

“Montgomerys have been ranching these lands for a hundred years. That’s the foundation of our entire way of life,” Keaton said.

“Construction employs half the clan,” Zane said.

“Guys, can we give it a rest in front of my guest?”

“It’s not like greenhouses and gardens don’t provide for the family,” Tate said.

Brock scooped his arm around her waist and led her away from his bickering brothers and cousin.

“Sorry about them,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Ginger sipped her beer. She was beginning to feel more relaxed. The Montgomery brothers were intense but they seemed kind of charming.

“Do you think you could deal with these guys all the time?” he asked her.

“Maybe,” she said coyly.

Brock brought her to the buffet already set out, and they heaped home cooked food on their plates. BBQ rips, baked potatoes, chili, salads, fruits, and mac and cheese. Ginger took some of everything and sat down at the table beside Brock.

The family began to gather around the long Sitka spruce table in front of a flickering fire in the stone hearth. Everyone chattered. The children of extended family played in the corner. A baby burbled nearby. Aunts, uncles, and cousins gossiped around them about this and that going on in the clan.

Ginger felt a sense of warmth and togetherness from the animated crowd of Montgomerys that filled her heart with gladness. A smile stretched over her mouth and she couldn’t stop. Brock’s mother leaned forward across the table and asked Ginger about her father.

“He was a good man. He taught me to play violin.”

“Brock said you were a musician. How wonderful. You’ll have to play for us some time.”

“I don’t have an instrument,” she said, dismissing the subject.

“I’m sure we could find one.”

“Mom,” Brock said, interrupting her. He shook his head “no.”

“What?” Nora asked, making an exaggerated expression of irritation, her green eyes blazing.

“It’s okay. I hurt my hand while taking care of my dad. I can’t play like I used to. It didn’t heal well.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. That’s terrible. You know what? I bet there is something that can be done about that,” Nora said.

“Mother, let’s save that for another time?”

Ginger looked from his mother to Brock and back again, and decided not to ask what they were talking about. Nora had said something could be done about her hand. What could possibly be done at this point? The crushing injury had torn her ligaments. She didn’t have the same control she once did, and she doubted she ever would again.

Brock changed the subject to a conversation with Keaton about providing more beef for the lodge during the upcoming season. Ginger listened as the men talked about the running of the Montgomery family businesses. She was impressed by their mastery of so many things.

Each Montgomery had their own niche that helped contribute the clan and the community as a whole. The conversation moved to talk of shifter disputes and the Shifter Council’s decisions about topics Ginger didn’t understand. It seemed like a lot of different shifters lived in and around Juneau and it made her wonder who else in town was a shifter and what type they were.

When everyone finished eating, they all helped clean the table and bring the dishes into the kitchen. The whole clan cleaned up and then opened more bottles of wine and rum. They drank over slices of baked Alaska with strawberry ice cream.

All the food and company was so welcoming, even when Nora had asked about her playing. Ginger felt right at home with them. Some of the men started a game of darts in the corner near the fireplace. Ginger watched as Brock beat his cousins and uncle. She cheered for him, holding her nearly empty glass of red wine.

With a smile so wide her face hurt, she turned to Brock’s younger brother Tate. He held a wine bottle. He filled her glass half way and set the bottle aside, holding his own glass.

“I heard what my mom was talking to you about earlier,” Tate said, swirling the wine in his glass.

“About my hand?” Ginger asked him.

“Yes. That can be healed. No problem. We all know how.”

“Even Brock?”

“Yes.”

“How? Tell me.”

“If someone changes you, you get a bear inside you, like the rest of us. It will heal you. Fix any problems you’ve got, right up.”

“That can’t be possible.”

“You saw Brock heal a bullet wound in twenty four hours. Just imagine what that healing power could do for your hand.”

“I never thought about it. I never imagined.”

“But Brock would have to change you. Make you a shifter.”

“Like him.”

“Like all of us. I’m not saying it’s an easy choice. Sometimes I think I’d rather be human.”

“Why?”

“Maybe it would be easier that way. Humans are less...attached to each other than shifters are. I speak from experience.”

“Oh. I can see your point.” She bit her lip, thinking of Brock and how attached he was to her already. She couldn’t decide if this was right or not.

“If Brock changed me, then I could play violin again.”

“The thing is, he’s not going to do that unless he claims you, too. Makes you his mate forever. It’s like marriage but deeper. For shifters, it’s what binds mates together for life.”

“I had a feeling it was something like that.”

Tate looked straight at her, his green eyes blazing. “If you don’t want to be his mate, tell him now. Don’t string him along. Just tell him and leave. Clean break.”

“I don’t want to hurt him. Believe me.”

“I know you don’t,” Tate said, patting her back and walking away just as Brock returned to her.

“What was Tate talking to you about?” Brock asked.

“Nothing.”

“I don’t want my emo brother scaring you off with his melodrama.”

“It’s nothing like that. He was just giving me some useful information about shifters. Things like healing and mating. Stuff he thought I should be aware of.”

“Like what?”

“I’d rather talk about this in private, Brock. We have to figure out what is the best thing for both of us.”