Boarlander Boss Bear (Boarlander Bears #1)(2)



“She’s with us,” Aviana told Ray.

Ray stepped closer to the dark-haired woman who cradled her stomach protectively. He lowered his voice when he argued, “But Ana—”

“She ain’t lyin’,” Beaston said, flashing the bouncer a dangerous glare. He pointed to his temple. “I would’ve heard it.”

Beaston shocked Audrey to her glossy black heels when he wrapped his giant hand around hers and nearly ground her bones to dust as he dragged her into the bar behind him and Aviana. The second they were in the door, he released her, and she subtly shook her hand out. Mother fluffer, he was strong and none-to-gentle, and now she had even more respect for Aviana. If a raven could survive a bear shifter like Beaston, she had some mountainous inner strength.

“Just so you know,” Beaston said, lifting his chin. “You don’t make no sense.”

“Beaston,” Aviana admonished. She watched her mate walk away and then gave Audrey an apologetic look. “Manners aren’t his strong suit.”

“It’s okay.” Audrey rubbed her throbbing hand. “I don’t make sense to me, either.”

Aviana’s lips curved into a smile, and she cocked her head. The woman gave one deliberate blink, and Audrey smiled. Even if she hadn’t known Aviana was a raven shifter, she would’ve guessed she was some kind of bird from her mannerisms.

“I’m Aviana Novak.” She held her fine-boned hand out for a shake. Sometimes Audrey didn’t know her strength so she was deliberately gentle, but she didn’t need to be. Aviana gripped her in a surprisingly strong grasp before releasing her.

“I’m Audrey Foster.”

“Harrison’s over at the bar, but Clinton is a mega-cock-blocker so…good luck with that one.”

Audrey huffed a nervous laugh. “Thanks.”

Ana gave her a little wave, cradled the swell of her belly in her hands, and made her way gracefully through the crowd toward a table in the back.

One look around, and it was apparent Audrey was smack-dab in the middle of the all-stars of Damon’s mountains. Cora Keller of the Breck Crew had an entire page on her pro-shifter website dedicated to the bears, falcons, ravens, gorillas, and dragons of Saratoga.

Kong, a dark-headed, barrel-chested titan gorilla shifter was working behind the bar with his mate, Layla. A few of the Ashe Crew were playing darts and pool against the back wall, and the Beck brothers were playing a country song on the stage. They were damn good. And as Aviana had said, Harrison and his Boarlanders seemed to be taking up space at the bar.

Her heart pounded faster as she saw him in person for the first time. Harrison’s powerful legs were splayed and locked as he stood talking to one of Kong’s Lowlanders, Kirk, another gorilla shifter. She was going to have to build up some major courage to approach her man while he was in the middle of a conversation with a big, dominant silverback.

Maybe she should take a shot before she talked to Harrison. Beaston was glaring at her from the corner with the calculating look of a predator judging how fast he would need to run to cut her off at the legs. Eeek. Audrey ducked his unsettling gaze and strode for the bar. Harrison was waiting for her, and stalling wouldn’t fix her nerves. She was growing more cowardly with every second of hesitation.

Her high heels felt sticky on the wood floors with each step, and as a tipsy woman turned and sloshed her cranberry drink right next to Audrey, she understood why. This place was probably next to impossible to keep clean until after hours.

Harrison wore a dark blue T-shirt that was thin enough to show every ripple of muscle in his back as he reached for a drink Kong set in front of him. His shoulders were as wide as a barn, and his back was shaped like a V, the sexiest damned letter of the alphabet.

Audrey wiped her clammy palms on her dress, inching it down toward her knees with the motion. This was the most scandalous thing she’d ever worn. What if Harrison didn’t like short dresses?

Stop it. Everything will be fine.

She waited politely behind him as Kirk asked, “And you’re sure you need help this badly?” His dark eyebrows arched high. “It seems extreme.”

“Yeah, well, I have an * bear who has chased off half my damned crew, and you don’t seem intimidated by Clinton, so yeah, I need your help. If Kong can spare you, I’d really appreciate it. Just until logging season is over, then I’ll look for more cutters.” He cast a blond-haired man sitting a few seats away a pissed-off glance. “I can’t just bring anyone in. He’ll bleed ’em.” He lowered his voice and muttered, “Fuckin’ Beaston junior.”

She wouldn’t have heard him without her oversensitive hearing, and apparently she wasn’t the only one listening because the Clinton in question twirled his wrist and gave Harrison his middle finger and then an empty smile.

Audrey worked hard to swallow the growl in her throat. She didn’t know Clinton, but from the way he looked at Harrison, she didn’t much care for him. She’d clenched her fists unintentionally, so she relaxed them, took a steadying breath, and poked Harrison on the shoulder. She jammed her finger on his rock hard muscles and flinched back. Between him and Beaston, her hand was going to be mangled by the morning.

Harrison gave her a look over his shoulder, locked eyes with her, and froze. God, he was a beautiful man. If she saw him on the street, she would think he was some model instead of the alpha of a notoriously rough-and-tumble grizzly crew. His strong jaw was shaved smooth, so she could glide her attention over every appealing curve of his face. He turned slowly, lifting his chin and trapping her completely with his gaze. She’d thought from the pictures that his eye color was dark, a soft brown maybe, but in person, they were a stormy blue color. Straightening his spine, he stood to his full height as he squared up to her, and Audrey arched her neck back to hold his enchanting gaze. Holy heaven, he was a mountain. His nostrils flared slightly, and whatever he smelled caused a frown to mar his dark brows. His T-shirt hugged his muscular arms as he crossed them over his chest, and tonight, he’d worn his hair different than his pictures. It was shorter on the sides and styled longer on top.

T.S. Joyce's Books