Hmm, the word of a playboy. “Matt, this is your warning. The second you mess up with another woman, you know I’m gone, right? That’s not me, sticking around for a man who doesn’t deserve my affection.”
He smiled against her hairline and pulled her against him, more gently this time. “I wouldn’t expect you to stick around for that bullshit. I won’t mess this up.”
She softened against him and wrapped her arms around his waist. With her head against his chest, she murmured, “Good. Now show me your trailer park.”
Chapter Six
“Whoa,” Willa murmured, staring at the four trailers in a semi-circle just beyond the Grayland Mobile Park sign that stretched over the white gravel road. “This is not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?” Matt asked from the passenger’s seat. He had his elbow resting on the open window, and his eyes were lightened to that unsettling silver color as he watched her reaction. In his other hand was clutched the hideous salmon mug she’d gifted him.
“Trash in the yard and old ratty trailers and old cars with parts strewn everywhere.” Instead, each trailer was uniform, covered in dark wood shingles like little mobile cabins. The roof on each looked new, and the white trim around the windows was crisp. The trailers each had a stone walkway that led to a huge communal fire pit in the middle. The grass around the community was neatly clipped, and each trailer had flowering landscaping on either side of the front door. The mountain scenery in the background was breathtaking. “Are these new homes?”
“Nah, they’re thirty-five years old, but me and Creed cleaned them up when the Gray Backs first started recruiting new members.”
She parked her truck behind Matt’s Chevy that sat in front of the trailer at the end. A single pink, plastic flamingo had been stabbed into the immaculate side lawn. Nice.
“So you and Creed started this crew?”
“We did. We had to start our own because our bears…well, they’re different and don’t mesh that well with other shifters. We have to be picky about who we allow into the crew. Jason was next, then Clinton, then Easton. We stopped with him, though. Too many problem bears in one crew, and Creed couldn’t handle any more dominant animals under him until we worked the kinks out. Which we never did. Five bears is all we can handle.”
Five bears, and no room for mates. How was this supposed to work if they continued to date or mate or whatever it was bear shifters called what they were doing?
“The kids I grew up with were all different. Their animals weren’t treated well, so it was always a struggle to make living together work.”
“How old were you when you started taking care of them?”
“Sixteen. But really, it was before that. Sixteen was when I found us a safe place to live, though. Because of that, when it came time to make my own crew, I didn’t mind accepting the problem shifters. Some of the Gray Backs would’ve been put down by other alphas by now, but they’re safer with us, out here. Creed is dominant enough to manage us as long as we keep the numbers low.”
Here was a man with a big heart who took risks for others. Who started a crew that no one else would fit into. When she was sixteen, she was worried about headgear, band competitions, and falling on her face in front of crushes she’d had in high school. Matt had been raising kids in the woods and working multiple jobs to feed and clothe them, sacrificing things she couldn’t even imagine to make sure others were okay. He wasn’t just the asshole woman-chaser that his social media pages showed. He was so much more.
She slid out of the truck and shut the door softly behind her.
Matt’s fingers brushed her lower back as he guided her toward his trailer. Instead of the side entrance, he gently pushed her to a set of stairs that led to a screened-in porch facing the communal fire pit. From what she could see, all of the trailers boasted the porches. Cedar planks were sturdy under her feet, giving nary a creak as she stepped onto them. A rocking chair sat ready near a small table with an antique car magazine that was folded backward to show a picture of a refurbished Model T.
“Sorry,” Matt muttered, hurrying around her to pick up the magazine.
She stared at him with a waiting grin. “You’re a clean freak, aren’t you?”
Matt frowned. “Maybe. My animal requires a decluttered den.”
“That surprises me. In a good way. I expected empty pizza boxes and beer bottles everywhere.”
“I recycle.”
A snort blasted up her throat. “Have you ever brought a girl in here before?”
“To my den?” He looked baffled by her question. “No. Hell no. This place is…mine.”