He hung his hardhat by the door and stripped his shirt and work boots off on the way to his bedroom. Before the tap was even steaming, he was under the cool jets of water, letting it rinse streams of mud down his torso and arms.
He was a happy person by nature, but ever since last night, he’d been feeling off. It was as if a huge gaping hole had opened in his chest, growing bigger and bigger until it threatened to swallow up the good parts about him. That’s what love had done to him. That’s why he would never allow that worthless emotion to taint him again. Tagan had found his mate in Brooke, and Kellen had found Skyler, but that didn’t mean every grizzly shifter found a partner. They were the exception to the rule. Most stayed in bachelor groups, fucked humans when the need to mate became too much, and went their entire lives without finding a true mate. Lady bear shifters were rare. Not many survived in vitro, and Turning women was frowned upon. If women weren’t strong enough, and dominant enough, their inner grizzlies would maim them from the inside out.
He’d messed up with Danielle—allowed himself to bond with her. Allowed his grizzly to choose a fragile human as a potential mate, when he should have been bedding her, then running for the hills like every other male of his kind would’ve done. Well, maybe not every male. He thought of Kellen and Tagan and how they lived and breathed to make their mates happy. Hell, Denison loved Brooke and Skyler like they were his own blood-siblings and would die for either one of them without hesitation. And damn it all, a greedy, needy, pathetic little part of him wanted what Tagan and Kellen had. He wanted to feel like they did and have his devotion returned.
Danielle was a runner, though. History proved it, and she had shown him she hadn’t changed one bit when she took off last night in a plume of tire grit.
With a growl, he forced her from his mind and concentrated on soaping his body. Of course, he was then contending with his raging boner that seemed to spring to life whenever he thought of Danielle, but as tempting as it was to take himself in hand and stroke out a release, the knot of tension would no doubt still be in his shoulders after he emptied himself into the water running down the drain. Plus, now that Danielle was back in his life and sexier than ever, a steamy shower jack-off session just didn’t seem as fulfilling as it had two days ago.
He pressed the palms of his hands against the cool plastic shower tiles and glared at the cracked grout between. She’d ruined everything.
With a sigh, he hit the faucet and stepped out of the shower, then promptly ignored his two day scruff. From what he remembered, Danielle hadn’t liked to kiss him when he wasn’t clean shaven. He’d rubbed her raw with a couple of marathon make-out sessions, one of which had led to the first time he’d slipped his finger into her. And there was his dick again, making a tent of his towel. With a growl, he flipped off the razor that sat waiting on the rim of his sink and headed for the bedroom.
He couldn’t stomp his feet in here like he was tempted to do, on account he’d probably fall through the squishy spots in the old laminate flooring. He yanked open the top drawer of his dresser to make up for it, then dressed in a huff.
The shower was supposed to reinstate his happy demeanor, but it had failed miserably. Tagan and Brooke were cooking for the crew tonight, though, and if his sniffer wasn’t lying, that was spaghetti and garlic bread he smelled wafting through the drafty windows of his trailer.
By the time he made his way outside and down the porch steps, the Ashe crew was gathered around the fire pit at the end of the road. He shook out the last of the water drops from his hair and mussed the top, then jogged toward the others. His shoulders relaxed as he settled into an eye-scorching green plastic lawn chair by the fire with his plate piled high with pasta, mixed vegetables, and finger-singeing hot garlic bread. Leaning over, he grabbed a beer from the red cooler between him and Brighton, and handed his brother one, too. Tops popped, he clinked his bottle against his brother’s in silent cheers like Dad had always done before every meal when they were growing up. Then he took a long swig and dug in.
It was amazing how a satisfied stomach after a hard day of work could change his mood. It was that or the banter of his crew that made for an easy distraction. Kellen wrapped his arm around his passing mate’s waist and pulled Skyler into his lap, then whispered something into her ear, causing her to giggle.
Denison smiled at the easy love they’d found and took another pull on his beer. Leaning back, he arched his neck toward the sky and stared at the slashes of airplane contrails that crisscrossed the summer sky.
“What the hell is that?” Bruiser asked.