Gray Back Ghost Bear(17)

“I’m Gia,” the brunette said, her whiskey brown eyes dancing as she slid off the back of the grizzly. “I’m Creed’s mate. And this is Willa, second in the Gray Backs and mate of Matt.”

Georgia rushed to set the groceries on the hood of the truck, then shook Gia’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I mean, officially. I think I saw you the first night I introduced myself to the Gray Backs.”

“Yeah, Willa calls you Renegade. We saw you pull that gun on Jason. Cracked us the hell up.”

Renegade. She liked that nickname. It was way better than the names she’d been gifted in middle school. Freaky Freckles and Dorky Dots. The kids in her school had not won most creative.

“Nice.” She smiled at the brown bear who was now sitting like a human waving at her. “I have to warn you, there is a poacher problem on this side of Damon’s property. Might not want to travel around this part while you’re Changed.”

“Eee,” Gia said. “Willa, Change back.”

The bear shrank into a tiny, red-headed woman. Willa spread her arms out like a ballerina and sang, “Boobs,” in an opera voice as her fur retracted.

“Whoa, you’re very naked. Or beary naked, ha!” Georgia clamped her mouth shut as her cheeks burned, but Willa and Gia laughed.

“My teets are beary small,” Willa cracked.

“My ankles are beary swollen,” Gia joked.

“Wait,” Georgia argued. “Your teets aren’t that small.”

“Renegade, you’re ruining the game,” Willa quipped, punching her fists onto her bare hips.

“Oh, right. My hair is beary curly.”

“Jason sent us to get you,” Gia said as she pulled a backpack off her shoulders and handed it to Willa. “He has a surprise for you.”

Georgia busied herself with picking up the rest of the bags off the ground. “I thought he was still at work.”

“Creedy let him off early,” Willa muttered as she pulled on a pair of black skinny jeans. “Dang, ladies, it’s cold as balls out here.”

“He let Jason off early? I thought they were low on manpower up on the landing.”

Willa shimmied into a red sweater that matched the bright dye in her hair. “Yes, Easton’s in the wind, and Clinton, that wanker stain, cut out on us. He’ll be back. Probably. The boys haven’t been getting days off since Clinton left, though, so the best Creed can do is let Jason off early after they hit their numbers for the day.”

“They already reached their goal?” Georgia looked down at her weather-proof watch. “It’s only five.”

Willa pulled her hair back into a spikey ponytail and secured it with a band. “Yeah, well Damon doesn’t exactly give them huge numbers, and funnily enough, without Beaston around, no one wasted their time fighting and bleeding today.”

“Do they fight and bleed often?”

“No one bleeds as much as a Gray Back,” Willa and Gia said in unison.

Georgia thought they were joking at first, but both their faces had gone serious as they bent down to clean up the mess she’d made.

The women helped her haul the wares she’d picked up at the grocery store in Saratoga, then Georgia gave them the grand tour of the one-room watch tower. By the time they’d climbed back down the ladder and into the bench seat pickup, Georgia’s nerves had left her body. It was impossible to be edgy around Willa with her wise cracks and quirks and Gia with her easygoing attitude and ready smile.

“Did you know there are three different kinds of nightcrawlers?” Willa asked matter of factly as Georgia drove them all toward the trailer park.

Georgia didn’t have to answer because Willa automatically dove in to the riveting subject of Canadian versus European nightcrawlers. She talked about the difference between red wigglers and earthworms, and how she and Matt had built her compost bins. Willa actually made a decent income selling the soil they made and worms for people’s yards. She even had a steady business selling the wiggly critters to a couple of local bait shops.

By the time she pulled into the Grayland Mobile Park, she knew practically everything there was to know about worms.

I’m sorry, Gia mouthed.

“Hey, don’t apologize,” Willa groused. “Worms are awesome.”

When Georgia stepped out from behind the wheel, she was greeted by a small brown and white dog with a long Mohawk shaved up his back and head.

“Peanut Butter Spike!” Gia crooned, picking him up and snuggling her nose against his flat face as his tail wagged so fast it was a blur of fur. She walked away and melted into baby talk, of which Georgia didn’t understand a word.