Gray Back Broken Bear(11)

But his inner monster stayed put.

In fact, the longer he sat staring at the strange girl in front of him, the more his bear shrank back inside of him, as if he was stunned. Or scared. Huh. Scared of this wood sprite?

Easton angled his face away from her suspiciously but never took his eyes off her downturned face.

“I’m Aviana Marie King.” She ghosted a glance to him, then back to his boots. “I saw you from over there, and I think you’re very handsome.” She gasped a tiny sound, too low for human ears, but it perked his senses right up. “You’re cheekbones are sharp, and your nose straight…regal…big muscles…and your eyes…I like those.” A tiny whimper escaped her as she clamped her mouth closed.

Easton looked to the faces of his crew, one by one. When he got to Jason, he growled out, “Is this a joke?” It had to be. No one had ever penned him as handsome. They avoided his gaze and shielded their children, but never once had someone called him what this strange woman had. Jason must’ve dared her to come over and talk to him. Now it made sense why she was this nervous.

“Definitely not a joke,” Jason muttered. “I’ve never seen her before.”

The woman was clutching her fist at her side, and her other hand was grasping Willa’s like a lifeline. She seemed to be waiting for something.

Oh. The manners the girls had been teaching him. “I’m Easton.” His voice came out a gravelly snarl, and the woman’s scent went from scared to petrified. Shit. “Sorry.”

She looked up through those long, dark lashes. “Sorry for what?”

He shook his head, baffled. “I don’t know.”

The tiny human straightened her spine and lifted her chin. “I want to buy you a drink.”

“But I already have—”

Jason shook his head, eyes wide.

“Okay,” Easton said, rubbing the two-day scruff on his face self-consciously. Manners. “Thank you.”

Aviana huffed a relieved, shaky sigh and released her death grip on Willa’s hand. Then she sat on the barstool Jason offered her right next to Easton. Right next to him. She smelled like vanilla. Not the artificial kind in a bottle, but the real kind to cook with. He liked vanilla. Her hair was clean and shiny and looked soft as silk, and she had a face he wanted to stare at. Cute nose, high cheekbones, and round, innocent eyes. She didn’t look like she had anything wrong with her, but she was talking to him. Maybe she was soul-sick. “How old are you?” he asked.

“Ooooh,” Willa said from behind him as if he’d said something wrong.

“It’s okay,” Aviana said with a brief smile to Willa. “I’m twenty-eight.”

“Me, too. Do people call you Ana?”

Her soft lips turned up in a smile as she shook her head. “No. But you can if you want to.”

“I want to.” It was shorter. Easier than Aviana. Gray Backs gave nicknames. Nerd. Griz. Ranger. Beaston. He would give this one to her for tonight. She seemed nice. Frail and breakable, but nice.

Ana ordered him another beer and one for herself. She grimaced when she took the first taste, though. She didn’t like it, but she forced it down her throat, sip by uncomfortable sip. She tipped the bartender a five dollar bill. Maybe she came from money, or maybe she was just that nice.

“Where are you from?” Easton asked. It wasn’t small talk. He was shit at small talk. He just wanted to know more about a woman who would brave the Gray Backs and call him handsome.

“Rapid City. I was a teacher there. Kindergartners.”

Easton took a long draw of his beer. She was smart then. So why was she talking to him? “Why aren’t you a teacher anymore?”

Her cheeks turned the most appealing shade of pink. “I quit for a man.”

His bear snarled inside and scratched tauntingly beneath his skin. “Why would you do that?”

“Because he asked me to, and I didn’t understand that I could say no at the time. I thought he was it for me.”

“Your mate?”

She couldn’t meet his eyes anymore. She nodded her chin once. “I guess you could call him that.”

Easton wanted to kill everything. “Why aren’t you with him now?”

“Because I didn’t want to be with a man who asked me to quit something I loved.”

Pride blasted through his chest, and he smiled as he took another drink of his beer. “Good.” Not so frail. Not so fragile.

The soft sound of giggling brushed his sensitive ears, and he turned to where his rowdy crew had moved off down the bar. Willa and Georgia both gave him thumbs up and big, confusing smiles, and when he looked for Gia—because she was pregnant and he liked her close so he could help Creed protect her—she was waddling double-time, round belly leading the way, toward the jukebox in the corner. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.