The fine hairs on Georgia’s arms stood up on end, prickling her skin despite her warm jacket. “And did you?”
Jason huffed a harsh laugh. “If you ask Tessa’s ghost, I did. I’m no murderer, though. She was with her crew, with her new mate, when a skirmish broke out with another crew over a territory dispute. Not all bear shifters get along as well as the crews around here. Tessa texted me, asking for me to come pick her up. She said she was scared, but she’d been pulling that shit a lot. She was messing with my head. Sleeping with me on and off, telling me it was over with her other mate, telling me she wanted to run away with me, but going straight back to him. I was done by the time she asked me for help. I thought it was more head games. A test to see if I’d come whenever she wanted.” Jason cracked his knuckles loudly. “Her whole crew was dead by the next morning. All except her other mate who brought me a box of her things. Pictures she’d kept and letters she’d gotten from me. A T-shirt of mine she used to sleep in. He said he was sorry he couldn’t protect her. I hated him, but more than that, I hated myself for not paying attention to those damned texts she’d sent. Tessa had never admitted to being afraid before, and it had been right there. She’d said she was scared, and I should’ve gone and picked her up that night. I was twenty-three, had already been Turned and mated, and had lost it all because I couldn’t make her happy, I couldn’t make her stay, and I couldn’t save her. And all this week I’ve wanted to go find your ranger station and ask you out. But every time I get myself psyched up to do it, I think, I’ve got nothin’ to offer you.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is. I have a ghost problem that you’ll obviously have to deal with since you see her, too. I have a bear that I’m barely in control of most days. I live out in the middle of nowhere in a trailer park with a crew who are not safe in society. I mean, shit, Beaston Turned Matt’s mate without her consent.”
“Beaston?”
“Easton.”
“Oh. Well, I’m here, anyway.”
“Because Easton kidnapped you.”
“No. I’m here because I want to be. I was on my way to meet Mr. Daye when Easton tricked me into giving him a ride. But I put on extra make-up today because I was planning on coming to visit the Gray Backs afterward and apologize for yelling at you. And pointing a gun at you. So ask me.” She lifted her chin primly. “I’ll wait.”
The smile that spread across his face was slow and steady and reached his eyes. “Georgia Ames?”
“Yes?”
“Will you help me clean up my trailer?”
Georgia swatted his arm and pouted. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
Jason’s laugh was infectious, but she did her best to keep a straight face.
“Georgia, will you go out on a date with me?”
“Are you asking just because I keep the ghost at bay?”
“Dammit woman, you gonna make this hard on me?”
She cocked an eyebrow.
“No, I’m asking you out because I like you. And also because you’re hot as fuck.”
Georgia giggled at his crassness and nodded once. “Then I accept. You better plan something really special for our first date though, Jason, because I’m very high maintenance.”
Jason made a show of looking down at her muddy hiking boots. “Oh, Ranger, I don’t doubt it.”
Chapter Seven
Georgia hung grocery bags the length of both arms because she’d rather army crawl through a sewer than make a second trip unloading groceries.
“You hoo!” a woman called.
When Georgia turned around, a tall woman was riding toward her on the back of a giant grizzly bear.
“Aah!” she screamed, running behind the old beater truck she’d borrowed from Jason, her arms flapping like a falcon as she tried to rid herself of the heavy bags.
The woman burst out laughing, and not the soft, polite kind, but the hunched-over-holding-the-stomach kind.
Georgia frowned so hard she started a headache, and then picked up an abandoned bag of toilet paper. “Please tell me that is a werebear you’re riding and not an actual wild bear.”
The woman’s messy bun bobbed as she nodded, apparently still laughing too hard to speak.
“And are you pregnant?” Georgia asked, staring at the bump that pressed against the woman’s fitted pink jacket.
“Oh, yeah. I’m super pregnant. With a werebear.” The woman snorted and hiccupped, then put her fingers over her mouth to hide her grin.
Georgia shook her head and picked up a bag of canned stew. Far be it for her to judge a pregnant woman riding a werebear. She was pining for a man who was mated to a ghost. Stones and glass houses, and she had crappy aim.