Page 35 of Guard Bear
Joy's hands froze on the cash box. Something in his tone made her inner mountain lion's ears flatten and hackles rise.
"Especially with all the... incidents around town." His eyes never left hers, pale blue and unblinking. "A beautiful woman shouldn't have to worry about security."
Her lion went stock still, sensing another predator. This man looked at her the way her uncle Leland studied cattle prices. Measuring. Calculated.
The familiar warmth of Andre's presence materialized beside her. His hand found the small of her back.
"Can I help you with something?" Andre's voice was mild, but Joy felt the tension thrumming through his palm.
The stranger's gaze shifted to Andre, a small smile playing at his lips. He took in their positioning, Andre's defensive stance, the protective hand. His amusement made Joy's skin crawl.
"Just appreciating local talent." He selected a single jar of wildflower honey, the smallest size she offered. "I'll take this one."
Joy processed the sale on autopilot. Her fingers felt clumsy as she wrapped the jar in tissue paper, applied the small bee sticker that sealed it closed, and put it in a little shopping bag. The man pulled out his wallet with deliberate slowness.
"Ryan Holbrook." He extended a business card along with a twenty-dollar bill. "Pacific Northwest Investments."
The card stock felt expensive between her fingers. Raised lettering. Watermark. A box of these probably cost more than she spent on groceries.
"In case you ever need... options." His gaze swept over her modest setup, lingering on the cash box, the handwritten price cards. "The market can be unpredictable. Especially for operations like yours."
He pocketed his change without counting it. His eyes found hers one more time, that calculating look intensifying. "Enjoy your day. What's left of it."
Joy watched him walk away, her lion tracking his movement through the crowd. He stopped at three more booths. Theleather goods stall. The pottery display. Sweet Summit's small bakery setup. The same careful examination at each stop.
Andre's hand hadn't moved from her back. If anything, his touch had grown heavier, more possessive. She could feel the tremor running through his muscles, the effort it took not to chase Ryan Holbrook through the market.
"Joy!" Mr. Patterson's cheerful voice made them both jump. "Don't you look pretty as a picture this morning. That blue brings out your eyes."
A sound rumbled from Andre's chest. Low. Threatening. Unmistakably bear. Mr. Patterson took a step back, his smile faltering. He'd been buying honey from her for three years, complementing her with the same practiced charm he used on everyone.
"The usual order?" Joy forced brightness into her voice, but her hands shook as she gathered his standard items. Two jars of clover honey. One beeswax candle.
Andre shifted closer, his body angling to block her from view. Not just from Mr. Patterson, but from anyone passing by. His presence loomed, throwing shadows across her display. What had been protective comfort moments ago now felt like a wall.
"Actually," Mr. Patterson fumbled with his wallet. “I forgot something in my car.”
He left, and Joy's stomach sank. That was thirty dollars in sales. Gone because Andre couldn't control his bear.
The morning crowd had reached full strength, but customers gave her booth a wide berth. She turned to look at Andre. His eyes and posture made him look both intimidating andunhinged. She widened her eyes and huffed, turning back to her customers.
Another regular approached, saw Andre's expression, and veered toward the pottery booth instead. Joy's hands curled into fists.
"Andre, could you help me with something?" Holly's voice cut through the tension. Her friend stood at Andre's elbow, fingers wrapped around his forearm. "I need someone tall."
She didn't wait for agreement, just tugged. Andre resisted for a moment, his bear clearly wanting to stay and guard. Holly tugged harder.
"Now, please."
They moved toward Holly's booth, but Joy caught fragments of their hushed conversation.
"You're scaring people," Holly hissed.
"He was hunting her." Andre's voice carried more growl than words. "The way he looked at her?—"
"Every man who smiles at Joy isn't hunting. You just cost her three sales in five minutes."
Joy served two more customers while they talked, her smile feeling brittle. Mrs. Hall bought extra soap. The teenager looking for a gift for his mother approached cautiously, relaxing only when he realized Andre had gone.
