Gray Back Ghost Bear(4)

“Crews.”

“I’m sorry?”

The man looked around again with a troubled expression. “We’re called crews, not clans.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

The silence grew awkward as they stared at each other in the waning evening light.

The man shifted his weight from side to side and twitched his head toward the mountains. “My alpha and crew are almost here if you want to stay and meet them. Today is my day off. Their shift is done, so they’re headed home right now. It’s not safe for you to come up in these mountains unannounced from here on, though. It’s different with the Boarlanders and Ashe Crew. Gray Backs don’t deal with surprise visits from women as well.” The man scratched the back of his neck and shook his head. “Or visits from anyone for that matter.”

“Who were you talking to earlier?” Georgia blurted out. The fierce look on his face made her wish she could swallow those words back down, but they were out there now. Shoot.

“Nobody.” The man’s narrowed eyes began to fade to the dark, human color again as he dragged his gaze down her body and back up with a thoughtful expression. “You want to stay for dinner?”

“Are you going to point that spatula at me the whole time?”

The man looked down at his weapon of choice and dropped it to his side. “Sorry.”

“And you never told me your name, so I feel weird about staying for dinner with a complete stranger.”

“Lady, this ain’t a date.”

Georgia gulped. “Of course…” She pursed her lips as heat blazed up her neck. “I didn’t… Maybe I should go and come back tomorrow to meet everyone.” She was backing away slowly as mortification pitched her voice up an octave. “It was rude of me to show up right at dinner time.”

“Jason. Jason Trager. Now I’m not a stranger, so you can eat with us.”

“Oh, I don’t eat raw meat, anyway.”

Jason snorted. “Neither do I, Ranger. You just snuck up on me before I started cooking.”

“Oh.” More blushing. More mortification, and all she wanted to do was flee. Not only because she was losing all semblance of professionalism with this man, but he was so intimidatingly attractive and was staring at her so directly, her tongue felt like it was tripping over itself every time she spoke. Spending an entire meal with him was an infinitely bad idea.

Jason canted his head. “You smell strange. Not scared, but something like that. Do I frighten you?”

“Bears frighten me.” Shoot again. Why had she blurted that out? Stupid mouth shut up.

The corner of his lips lifted slowly in a crooked grin, and she imagined her ovaries were exploding like fireworks.

“Good,” he said in a deep tenor. “You should be.” He gestured to a plastic chair near the grill and gave her his back.

Georgia squeezed her eyes tightly closed and wished she could think up a good enough excuse to bow out of dinner. Nothing came to mind, though, so she was trapped with the scary, sexy bear-man. She zipped up her dark brown puff jacket and sank to the edge of the chair as Jason turned on the grill.

Even from here, she could feel something powerful rolling off him. Some electric current that filled the space between them. Jason kept his face carefully turned away from her as he set the steaks on the grill.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” she asked.

Jason shot her a suspicious glare and walked away. Okaaay. He was gone for a few minutes, but came back with a couple of beers and a plate of corn and asparagus on foil. He popped the top on one of the drinks and let the cap fall to the ground. He handed the bottle to her before doing the same to his.

“Thanks,” she said on a breath. The nerves were back, all fluttering around in her stomach like a hive of angry bees.

After taking a long sip from the cold glass bottle, she snuggled deeper into her jacket.

“You cold?” Jason asked gruffly without looking at her.

“Uh, a little. I think.”

“You think?”

“I have chills, but maybe it’s because…you’re…” Aw, friggin’ A, her mouth had a mind of its own.

“I’m what?”

Bone-deep terrifying. “Intimidating.” The last of the word wrenched up an octave, and her lion status plummeted to field mouse.

“Hmm,” he rumbled, the sound more a growl than a human word.

Another chill blasted across her skin despite her thick coat.

“Where are you from, Ranger?” Jason asked as he checked the underside of one of the steaks.

“All over. I grew up in Big Canoe, Georgia, though. I moved away from there when I was eighteen and spent a year in Montana, then a year in South Carolina, then Alaska, then another year in Texas, and oh my gosh, you can tell me to stop talking at any time. I’m a rambler, Mr. Trager.”