A Lion Shame (Bear Creek Grizzlies Book 3) (15 page)

T
he moment
he saw Sarah Jane walk through the door of Rosie's apartment, part of Tate relaxed for the first time since she'd disappeared. The mountain lion exhaled and wanted to collapse in relief. But as much as he wanted to grab her in a hug and hold her forever, Tate kept his distance. He didn't want to scare her or overwhelm her, when Sarah Jane already looked a little frayed. He calmed in her presence, felt more grounded. He didn't even mind cooking — he wanted to cook, he wanted to feed her and make sure she was content.

They didn't talk much as he finished the sauce, using a recipe he'd learned from one of the Sicilian kids who'd served with them in the Legion. The amount of garlic wasn't conducive to making out, but he didn't expect that to happen any time soon. It was a comfortable silence, though, broken only by occasional snorts and snores from Rosie and the baby. It felt like home. It felt like Tate finally had a home.

He dumped the noodles into the sauce and made sure it was thoroughly mixed before loading two bowls. He took the chair next to her, needing to be closer than the chair across the table, and offered some of the fresh parmesan to Sarah Jane. She made yummy noises when she tasted the spaghetti, and Tate resisted the urge to preen.

They'd eaten half the meal before Tate gathered his courage to talk about what really needed to be discussed. "There were a couple of things I needed to tell you. That you should know."

Sarah Jane took a deep breath and brushed her red hair back over her ears, fiddling with her fork. She braced herself, like she expected something terrible, and Tate didn't know whether to laugh or apologize for everything that had happened to make her think it wouldn't be a good thing.

He leaned back in his chair and rubbed the nape of his neck, the sleeplessness of the last week catching up with him. Even having his mate so close could hardly keep him awake. "Shifters are born with a mate — one person in the world who's their partner. A soul mate, really. Most of the time it's another shifter, though maybe a different kind. Sometimes the mate is human."

Sarah Jane's eyebrows rose. "Oh?"

"And you're mine."

The air grew heavy and thick as she watched him, and Tate couldn't take the silence. "You're my mate. Did you hear me?"

"I did," she said, blinking long and slow. "But I don't know what that means."

He touched her hand on the table, curling his fingers around hers and reveling in the softness of her skin. "It means that you're the one person in the entire world I'm meant to be with. You're the other half of my soul."

A hint of a frown crossed her expression and he braced for the worst. It was too much to expect her to take in at once, after everything that had happened in the past few weeks. He wondered if she'd run again. The first time she disappeared almost killed him. Tate couldn't imagine surviving if she left for good.

Sarah Jane looked him in the throat, but her hand moved tentatively to squeeze his fingers as well. "So the soul-mate thing. That means you love me?"

"From the moment I saw you." Tate took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "And I owe you the full truth, Sarah Jane. Part of why I — well, part of why I was a jackass to you was because I was afraid. I still am, a little. You scare the hell out of me."

"Me? I scare you?" She laughed, dark eyes flashing, and she leaned back to study him. Her hands slipped from his. "What, is it Dakota? You signed up for a mate but not one with a baby already?"

And something in her expression betrayed a very deep fear that that was true. He wondered if it was how she ended up with the drug dealer boyfriend — Sarah Jane didn't believe she deserved someone better. He sat forward and slowly moved to hold her face, making sure she could see his eyes and the truth in them. "Listen to me. Dakota is part of you. Of course I love her, just as much as I love you."

Sarah Jane tried to smile but her chin wobbled and she looked away. Still not believing him. Tate sighed, his fingers sliding under her chin to tilt her face so he could see every beautiful part of her. "Don't you remember that first night at the bar, when you were running around and trying to figure everything out?"

She nodded, her eyes half-closed so her long lashes brushed her cheeks.

"And didn't I hold Dakota for a couple of hours, so you could focus on your work?" He waited for another nod before he went on. "I'm not really known as a guy who does nice things for people. You can ask anyone. Ask Rosie. But it didn't occur to me not to hold your baby, Sarah Jane. She's perfect. I would have died to get her back."

"She is perfect. She's my everything." A tear dropped from the corner of her eye, and Sarah Jane wiped at it quickly as she tried to laugh. "Then what about me could possibly scare you? You're terrifying."

Tate took a deep breath. He didn't want to say it, didn't want to talk about it. But he owed her all of himself. He owed her vulnerability and honesty, since she had been so completely honest with him. Tate refused to look away. "Because I loved someone else, a long time ago. I thought she was everything. I thought she accepted me, that she loved me as well. And the moment I told her what I am, she wasn't interested. She didn't accept all that makes me who I am. It almost killed me, Sarah Jane."

She touched his check, waiting. So patient. So understanding. His heart cracked.

He had to clear his throat a few times to get rid of the knot of emotions that nearly choked him. "And what I feel for you is — it's more than I could ever imagine. She was nothing. You're my world. But the thought that you might reject that — that you would reject
me
— stopped me in my tracks. It still does. My heart is racing because all I can see in your face is that you probably want to run."

Her palm rested on his chest, over his heart, and Sarah Jane looked at it for a long time, as Tate slowly died inside. She gnawed her lower lip, then said softly, "I've spent a lot of time running, Tate."

He couldn't breathe. He was going to die of oxygen deprivation and stress; his heart would just explode in his chest. If she walked away, he'd just shift into the cougar and wander into the snow to die.

"But I'm done running," she said, and a new resolve filled her expression. "I'm done. We're staying in Bear Creek for a while."

Tate started to smile, some of the tension easing in his chest. Before he could speak, though, Sarah Jane held up a hand to cut him off. "But I don't think I can survive it if you're this nice and then you change again. I don't think my heart can take it. So what you're saying is very sweet, and I want to believe you, but I don't know if I can trust you yet."

Even a week earlier, Tate would have argued. He would have blown up or walked away from the table or gave her a bunch of promises that didn't mean anything. But he knew better than to do any of that. He'd grown, since that moment at the cabin when his world slowed down and reoriented with Sarah Jane at the center. So Tate nodded. He didn't argue. "I understand."

Sarah Jane blinked, at a loss for words, then braced her hands on the table. "I like you, Tate. I like you a lot, but I have to be more careful with my choices. I know I feel something for you that I can't really explain. I don't know how that mate stuff works for humans, but that's where I'm at. It might take me some time to get everything figured out."

"Take as long as you need." Tate ached to touch her to hug her, but he didn't dare move. It was still too tentative and new between them, and he couldn't risk ruining it. "But please let me take you on a date. And help you with whatever you need. I'll watch Dakota for you. I'll build you furniture if you need it, and carry your groceries, and make you dinner. I'll pack your lunch for you in the morning."

A hint of a smile crossed her face, and Sarah Jane started to relax. She even smiled and picked up her fork, digging back into the cooling spaghetti. "If you cook this well all the time, I don't think I'd mind you making dinner every night."

"Consider it done," he said.

They finished eating in near quiet, though it was far more comfortable, and when Dakota stirred from where she slept on Rosie's chest, Tate got up to retrieve the baby and distract her so Sarah Jane could finish eating. The whole time, though, he was making plans. He needed new furniture for his apartment, and to clean out the spare room so he could put a crib and changing table and baby stuff in there, and to talk to Simon about the hours he worked at the Lodge. Tate had better things to focus on than hauling tourists around, and with winter setting in in earnest, things would slow down. Maybe for Thanksgiving, he could take Sarah Jane and Dakota up to the Lodge for a family dinner.

The mountain lion relaxed, ready to do whatever it took to convince his mate to stay.

T
he next two
months passed in a whirlwind. SJ worked her ass off every day, running Rosie's bar while Rosie recovered, then in helping set up and improve the Bear Creek clinic. The makeshift hole in the wall they'd used for small injuries wasn't sufficient for a community so prone to accidents and violence, and once SJ received her nursing certification, she wanted to take over as much as possible at the clinic. The doctor had long since retired but occasionally showed up when a bone needed to be set or there were problems SJ couldn't identify; he and the rest of the town seemed pleased to have a nurse on call.

Rosie was back on her feet in a week or two, though she still got tired occasionally, and so the regular patrons of Rosie's bar got accustomed to even slower service. SJ still helped out at night when it got busy, since the clinic didn't demand that much of her time, and every night that she was there, Tate sat at the bar and ordered his usual hamburger. Except, instead of holding a bottle of whiskey, he held Dakota.

SJ wondered if that would change after the first couple of nights when Tate played with the baby instead of the half dozen beers he normally drank, and some of the regulars made snide remarks about him being a babysitter. But Tate shut them down with a single look and didn't otherwise acknowledge their existence. He just fed Dakota her peas and commiserated on how awful they tasted.

SJ spent the first month waiting for the other shoe to drop, and for Tate to give up and run for the hills. She didn't exactly put him through hell, but she didn't make it easy. And yet he handled everything with good humor and easy-going affection. He came up with cute nicknames, and when she started to relax around him again, Tate would hold her hand or kiss her cheek or play with her hair. All of it was nonthreatening. It wasn't pushy or demanding. She waited for the ultimatum and it never came.

Even Thanksgiving dinner at Simon and Zoe's place up the mountain was perfect. Rosie came as well, and Zoe, practically immobile at nine months pregnant, handed the cooking over to Tate. Zoe then peppered SJ with detailed questions about childbirth, which pretty much cleared the room of everyone else once Zoe asked if it was true she might poop herself during labor. SJ thought her face might catch fire as she tried to explain what it felt like to push a baby out, especially since Tate stood in the kitchen, close enough to hear every gory detail. She wanted to feel mortified, but a hint of terror lurked in Zoe's eyes at the prospect of actually giving birth, so SJ did her best to at least allay those fears. She didn't sugar-coat it, for sure, but she held up Dakota and said, "It's worth it. It's all worth it. The pain, the fact that a dozen people will be staring at your lady business and you'll reach a point where you won't even care who's trying to measure your dilation, the terror of the first time you try to poop after you give birth and you think all your insides are going to fall out... It's worth it. You'll be fine."

Simon peered around the corner, a ferocious scowl on his face. "How many people, exactly, will be looking at my wife's business?"

Zoe snorted, then grimaced and rubbed her stomach. "I don't care how many people see, I just want her out."

"Her?" Tate launched out the kitchen. "You found out? It's a girl?"

"We were waiting to tell everyone," Simon said, shaking his head. But the beaming smile on his face belied the possible regret at the early reveal. "But yeah. We're having a baby girl."

And then chaos broke out as everyone starting shouting and laughing and jumping around, imagining a baby girl in a house full of over-protective uncle bears, and Zoe started crying and SJ cried just a little bit herself, thinking of how lucky that baby was already. She was happy for Zoe and Simon and their little girl, of course, but part of her definitely wished she'd had that kind of support starting out. That Dakota had known a rowdy family to protect her from the very first day. When Dakota got overwhelmed with the noise, SJ took her to sit on one of the comfortable couches by the fire and distracted her with a big set of blocks that Zoe had bought as an early Christmas present.

It wasn't long until Tate appeared and sat on the couch next to her, his arm around her shoulders, and SJ fought back more tears as she leaned her head against his chest. Tate kissed the top of her head. "Tell me why you're sad."

"I'm very happy for Zoe and Simon. They'll have a beautiful baby, and she'll be so blessed to grow up here." SJ nudged some of the blocks with her foot so Dakota was distracted from the fireplace and all the tempting shiny things near it.

"But..." Tate said, resting his chin on her head as he studied the fire.

"But I'm a little jealous," SJ whispered, and felt like a terrible person for even thinking it.

Tate grumbled, something almost like a purr, then pulled her around until her legs draped over his lap and his hand rest on her thigh. "I was too, at first."

SJ blinked, absently touching his chest. "Really?"

"Well, yeah. They love each other a lot, and they found each other out of this entire world full of people, and they got married and they're having a baby. It's perfect, right?" Tate shrugged and held her close, his arms linked around her. "It's perfect for them. We have our own road, Sarah Jane, and I wouldn't trade a moment of it."

She laughed, poking his side and making him jump. "Not a moment? You've got to be kidding."

"Maybe some of the moments," he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.

"Like which ones?" SJ's hand drifted a little south and rested on his belt buckle, and Tate gave her a sideways look.

He shifted a little on the couch. "Some of those moments when I wanted to kiss you and drag you into my bedroom but I was being respectful of your request for a glacier like approach to romance."

"I think we're ready for a thaw." SJ bit her lower lip, not wanting to make too much of a scene as the rest of the bears all started popping champagne bottles in the kitchen.

"Hallelujah," Tate said with a sigh. He caught her face in his hands and dragged her close for a scorching kiss, hungry and desperate after being separated for too long.

Sarah Jane drowned in his touch, in the warmth of his lips, the friction of his palm moving over her side under her sweater. SJ caught her breath, sitting up so she could link her arm around his neck, but froze as someone started hooting in the kitchen.

Tate broke the kiss grudgingly, barely looking over his shoulder to shout, "Mind your business," before his lips left a heated trail down SJ's throat.

"Get a room," someone said, and SJ nearly died of embarrassment on the spot. It didn't help that Tate's hands were busy sliding down her thigh and under her butt. When SJ jumped, Tate grumbled a pleased noise and nibbled on her ear lobe.

"Shall we?"

"Shall we what?" she asked, breathless. She could hardly get her thoughts to stay in her head.

"Get a room," he said, his eyebrows arched. "Since making out on the couch is a little teenager-y and we'll have an audience. I don't mind, of course, but —"

"No audiences," SJ said. She tried to wiggle free of his embrace, laughing as he squeezed her waist, and SJ bent to pick up Dakota. "But —" She cut off when she glanced back and saw him staring at her ass, and then smoke might as well have curled off her face because half the house exploded in laughter.

SJ straightened, holding Dakota, and gave Tate what she hoped was a prim look. "It's bedtime for someone else first, though, so you'll have to cool your jets at least a little."

She headed for the stairs, grateful they'd planned to spend the night anyway, and Rosie stormed over to take Dakota from her. "I'll take this little princess for the night."

SJ protested, although Dakota was only too happy to go to her Auntie Rosie, since Rosie let her play with things SJ didn't. "Rosie, I can't expect you to —"

"From the looks of things, this baby wouldn't get any sleep at all in your room," the cougar said, waggling her eyebrows. "So you go get yourself some lovin', darlin', and don't worry about how much noise you make. There's very good soundproofing in this place."

"Oh my God." SJ covered her face, wanting to sink through the floor as someone else offered to send Tate upstairs with oysters.

"Save that for Tate," Rosie said, and bounced Dakota high until the baby squealed. "We'll be down here celebrating and playing Christmas music as loud as the stereo will allow. Enjoy yourself."

"We're not —"

"Yes we are," Tate said, and caught SJ's waist as he strode up. "I'm sure Rosie and Zoe will have a ton of fun dressing Dakota up. And I heard Zoe collected another half dozen kittens, so maybe Dakota can pick out a furry little friend to bring home."

SJ stared at him. "Bring home?" just as Rosie said, "I don't think so, Thaddeus. I'm the only cat in my house."

Tate rolled his eyes but leaned to kiss SJ again. "I meant to ask you later, and not in front of anyone, but I'd like you to live with me. I redid everything, there's new furniture, a room for Dakota... But if you don't like it, we can find another apartment. Or a house. Wherever you want."

She could hardly process what was happening. SJ managed to stutter, "I'll h-have to think about it," but then Tate laughed and picked her up, carrying her easily up the stairs as the others cat-called from below.

SJ couldn't help but laugh as well as Tate shouldered open a door to one of the guest rooms upstairs, and as Tate put her on the bed, she caught his face. "You can't be serious about the kitten."

"I'm always serious about kitties," he said, keeping a straight face.

SJ groaned with laughter, particularly as his hands ghosted down the insides of her thighs and left her no doubts about what kind of kitty he was concerned about. SJ struggled to frown as she pointed a no-nonsense finger at him. "You're going to ruin that forever for me."

"I wouldn't want that." Tate stripped off her socks and then reached for the waist of her jeans. "So we can talk about that later."

"Great." SJ held her breath as Tate peeled off the jeans and then knelt next to her, pulling at her sweater. "And I'd like to move in with you, Tate. That would be wonderful."

"Perfect." He focused on her breasts with a single-minded intensity that made SJ shiver, and Tate kissed his way up her stomach to the utilitarian bra she wore. He unhooked the contraption and tossed it aside, making a hungry noise, and the soft warmth of his mouth surrounded her tender flesh.

SJ gasped and worked her fingers into his hair. It felt amazing, like a bolt of pure pleasure straight to her core. The warm pressure had her arching her back and trying to hold him close as his hands tugged at her underwear, finally sliding underneath to tease her wet folds. She closed her eyes and got lost in the sensations, though a stray thought escaped before she could bite the words back. "But I thought you'd want to leave Bear Creek."

His head lifted from her breast and SJ could have cursed, though his fingers kept exploring between her thighs until she squirmed and sighed. Tate frowned. "Why would you think I'd want to leave Bear Creek?"

She clutched at his wrist, trying to guide his hand faster and higher and just a little deeper as her thighs clenched, and squeezed her eyes shut as she answered. "You always talk about missing the sun, and wanting heat and deserts, and hating the snow. I thought... I thought..."

SJ lost whatever that thought was as Tate turned to her other breast and his hand plunged deeper at the same time and she went rigid as ecstasy rolled through her. It had been so long since she'd climaxed that it took her by surprise, scary in its intensity, and as she lay there panting and trying to collect her thoughts, Tate remained beside her. He kissed the side of her neck and traced shapes on her stomach. "Well, there's an easy answer to that, my love. You're my sun. You're my sunshine and my summer and my everything. Wherever you are, I'm happy."

She lifted her head, uncertain she could shoulder such a burden. "But —"

"No buts. You make me a better man." Tate rested his chin on her shoulder, almost nose-to-nose, and smiled. "You've already made me a better man. I look forward to what you're able to do with me in a year. You're my sun, Sarah Jane. I don't need anything else. Just you."

SJ closed her eyes, not wanting to cry, and shook off the last tremors of the orgasm as she stretched and reached for his belt buckle. "And I need you. I do."

He made that grumbly noise again and stripped off his sweater, throwing it across the room before tearing off his jeans. "I love you."

"I love you too," she whispered, sliding back on the bed to make room. Tate was suddenly naked in the half-light, and started to kiss his way down her stomach, but SJ couldn't take it. She reached for his hard cock and drew him closer. "I can't wait. I want to feel you."

Tate groaned and reached for a bag on the bedside table, fishing around until he found a condom. "Normally I'd take my time, but I've been dreaming of you for the last two months and I'm about to explode. Just looking at you, your curves... You're so beautiful, Sarah Jane."

She believed him. Without a doubt or caveat. He meant it. He kissed her hard and then his weight rested on her and his cock parted her folds and SJ cried out. He filled her, stretching her, and SJ moved to meet him. She caught fire at his touch, her hands sliding down his back in a desperate search for sanity, and her hips tilted to encourage him deeper. Tate growled and groaned, murmuring how much he loved her as his body moved faster, harder, banging the headboard into the wall. SJ didn't care. She didn't care at all.

She held on to his biceps and wrapped her legs around his waist, desperate to connect to him even more. That connection she'd felt for the past two months only grew, it wrapped around her and held her to him until she didn't know where she ended and he began.

Tate said something and then tumbled over, and Sarah Jane found herself astride him. Tate lay back and watched her, squeezing her breasts as his hips lifted to urge her into motion. SJ flushed as she thought of being so exposed to him, but she rocked her hips and desire sparked through her until her head fell back and she groaned. And she remembered in his apartment that morning after they'd slept together, when she watched Tate pleasure himself just looking at her. She'd done that to him. He couldn't control himself.