Page 4 of Coveted By The Bear

I forgot how much I enjoyed being a mechanic. My love of auto mechanics started as a kid when my father would work on the engine of his beloved Camaro in the driveway of our very modest colonial right here in Barvale.

I missed my old man. Mom moved to Georgia a few years after Dad passed away, and it was just me, her, and my brother, Honor. We were named for my mother’s favorite virtues, Hope and Honor.

Her name was Grace, so maybe it was a way of connecting us all. Honor was in the military on some secret government op or other. He sent texts monthly to let us know he was still breathing, and I knew it was a comfort to our mother.

I missed him like hell. But I was proud of him. He was the good one. Living up to his name and making Mama proud.

I was a failure, but at least I owned it. I’d moved away from home right after college, following a man who, as it turned out, never really loved me.

I studied education in school, but I never applied for a teacher’s license. I’d probably be bad at it, anyway. I had like zero patience for people, and I didn’t mean the kids, I was referring to their parents.

But mechanics, that was something I could do, hence this job. I used to work here when I was studying, but I had to give it all up when I’d moved to New York with Bruce.

Moving back to Barvale after breaking up with my now ex-boyfriend was easier than I thought. I re-connected with my old high school buddy Betty, and she got me my old job back right away.

She always was topnotch. Betty and her husband, Crush, were just adorable. Even if they were forever arguing about all the computer related advancements she was forever implementing here.

God love Betty, but I was with Crush on this. Computers were assholes. Or maybe it was just the ones I came into with.

Kinda like the men in my life.

I grabbed a handful of change from my backpack and walked to the vending machine outside at the back of the garage.

“Look at this mess,” I murmured, bypassing what looked like an oil spill by the very last bay.

Whoever was responsible for this section was going to be in for it. Crush was the manager, and he’d chew anyone out who was caught slacking.

I’d clean it up, of course. After I had my snack. But I wasn’t getting blamed for this shit.

Thunder boomed overhead. But I still startled as lightning cracked across the glass panels of the garage door.

Silly me.

There were four bays on this side of the garage, each one with its own aluminum and glass door. They were all down at present.

The glass customer door was propped open with a brick, letting in the scent of Autumn rain and ozone. I liked the smell of rain, and I was fairly certain it was safe here.

I grew up in Barvale and not much had changed in the years I’d been away. Besides, Lance’s Auto had a great security system. A real Draco Fortis, and those were impossible to get.

I went back to my perusal of goodies and leaned over to check the inventory.

“Let’s see. Sweet or salty,” I murmured, and dropped in the change, taking time with my selection.

“Sweet,” a deep voice rumbled from behind me.

“SWEET GEEZUS FUCK!” I shouted, spinning around and losing my footing.

I closed my eyes, preparing for impact on the oil stained concrete. It was definitely going to hurt even my fluffy ass—only impact never came.

Instead, I was picked up and hurled against a soaking wet, yet amazingly warm body. A big, muscular body.

Opening my eyes slowly, I shivered the second my gaze landed on a pair of eyes so blue I’d swear they’d inspire poets or songwriters.

“I’m Hope,” I blurted, and the big man’s chest rumbled.

His eyes widened, and he looked genuinely surprised as his lips parted.

“You’re mine.”

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