Husband Fur Hire (Bears Fur Hire Book 1) (4 page)

Ian pulled over to the side of the road about a mile from Elyse’s homestead. “Dammit!” he yelled, slamming his open palm against the steering wheel.

Wrecked by how different she looked, he couldn’t drive like this. His skin prickled with the first tingles of the Change, and if he didn’t get it under control, he would destroy his truck and Change way too close to Elyse. And he could feel what his inner bear was planning. The monster was pissed that he was driving away from her right now. He would be back at her cabin in a minute flat if he gave the animal his skin right now.

Skin and bones. Fuck. She looked so different from the folded picture he’d been carrying around in his back pocket for the last four months since he’d put Cole down. She was thin in the picture, sure, but now? Her damned collar bones were sticking through her thin, gray shirt as though she had no meat on her at all. And her hands were shaking, but she didn’t smell nervous. And it wasn’t the drink or any other kind of self-medication that was making her this way, either. He would’ve smelled that, too. No, she was hungry and working herself to death to keep that place running.

There had been two salmon in her freezer. Two. The first snow would come in two months if she was lucky, and all she had stocked up for it was two goddamned fish. He hated Cole all over again for not being stronger. Giving her chickens away to his no-account brothers. That wasn’t the crazy part of him. That was the learned, freeloading part of him. He’d thought Elyse could save him, but Cole hadn’t ever stood a chance of her doing him any good. Not when he used her up like that.

For the hundredth time, he wanted to read the letter Cole had given him to deliver to Elyse. Ian had kept it neatly and tightly folded over the last four months. It was private and none of his business, but dang it all, he was curious about what Cole could’ve possibly written to make an apology this big.

She was hiring a husband!

Ian didn’t like it, but he got it. Homesteads around here usually went to sons, but Elyse had been handed one and was stubborn enough to work herself into a grave to keep it up.
Romantics need not apply.
Ian wanted to spit. She was screwing herself out of any chance at a happy life by the way she was going about this, and all for the sake of keeping her homestead.

Ian leaned his elbow on the open window of his truck and gritted his teeth. He would make a damned poor husband, but even he could see the merit in him helping her. He could work harder and longer than a human man, he slept all friggin’ winter so she wouldn’t have to worry about him getting cabin fever, and he could help her in the warm season to stock up. He could provide for her. Make sure she lived comfortably during the snowy months.

But…

His secrets could get her hurt, or worse. He’d just come back from checking his den on Afognak, and the McCalls had burned his cabin in the cave. They’d been thorough about it, and now it was nothing more than ashes. How they’d tracked him down, he didn’t know. He’d used that den for a decade without problems. Miller was hunting him slow, and burning his den was a warning. They hadn’t forgotten about their brother, and if Ian stayed here, a mere thirty miles upriver from where the McCalls lived, Elyse could get caught in the crossfire.

But then again, the last place Miller would expect to find him was with Cole’s ex-mate.

Ian could prepare her homestead for winter, hunt the meat she needed, then go bear and find a natural den on Kodiak Island with the wild bruins. It wouldn’t be a fancy cabin in a cave, but his animal wouldn’t care overmuch as long as he got to sleep peacefully. Or as peaceful as possible knowing Miller would be searching every den in Alaska to kill him in his sleep.

His stomach soured at the thought of dying like that. Miller didn’t know anything about giving an honorable death. Miller would do it when Ian couldn’t fight back.

He leaned over his window and glared at the muddy road that stood between him and Elyse’s homestead. He could be happy here, and that was a truly dangerous thought. He was having a hard enough time leaving after talking to her for five minutes. What was going to happen when he fell for her completely? Her life would always be in danger because of him.

A scarred-up grizzly shifter enforcer could make no woman happy.

But from the way she acted back there, she wasn’t looking for happy. She was looking for security.

He would make a shite husband, sure, but he could get her fed.

Ian growled and jammed his foot on the gas. Putting distance between them was vital. He was compromising with himself, justifying staying and putting her in danger. This is why he had stalled on delivering that note. This is why he’d waited four months and then decided, in a moment of weakness, to give it to her himself. He had harbored an unhealthy amount of obsession over the woman in the picture since he’d awoken from hibernation.

His damned bear was clearly broken, and now he was convincing Ian to shack up with a needy human.

No. She would find someone decent to fill her advertisement and live a longer, happier life for it.

Ian was no better a choice for a mate than Cole McCall.

****

Ian Silver had lied.

He’d said he would give an answer by weeks’ end, but it had been nine days since he’d graced her doorstep and given her freezer that judgmental look. He’d backed out, and the brute hadn’t even had the decency to tell her in person.

And now the applicants for her advertisement had waned to no prospects, and she’d wasted all that time interviewing for nothing.

Now, she was further behind than the last three years, and by a lot. Uncle Jim would be so disappointed in her if he saw his place now. This land had been in the Abram family since 1914, and it had never been more at risk than when it fell into her lap. And most nights, she still stayed up wondering why her uncle had thought it best to give her the land instead of her brother, Josiah.

Josiah was strong, had a good head on his shoulders, and wouldn’t have ever let this place fall to ruin. He would’ve never been duped by someone like Cole.

Elyse grunted as she scooped another heaping pile of chicken poop-matted hay from the coop floor. It was late August, and the layers of scat from the winter were thawed out. There wasn’t any hope for more chickens until she could figure out how to make more money and purchase the animals plus feed, but the coop was smelling up the clearing, and she’d set aside the morning to clean it up in hopes that someday, perhaps next warm season, she would be in a better place to house hens again.

A soft noise outside made her draw up and frown, but when she listened harder, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Birds and rustling grass and the ever present sound of bugs. Shaking her head and fancying herself crazy, she bent back down and scooped another pitchfork full of smelly muck into the bucket.

There was that noise again.

Elyse set the fork against the wall and made her way out of the coop door, knee-high rubber galoshes squishing against the filth with every careful step. Her gaze was drawn down the dirt road toward the noise that was getting louder now.

The muddy nose of a brown and cream pickup was bouncing slowly toward her. Ian Silver was back.

With a gasp, Elyse wiped her hands on her jeans and patted her messy hair she’d piled high on her head. Her pants were smeared, her black rain boots were covered in an inch of fragrant muck, and she was about to see the man she’d been thinking of constantly all week. He would definitely tell her no when he saw her like this.

As he eased his truck in front of the cabin, he was pulling a trailer with a snow machine behind it, and sudden hope bloomed in her chest. The bed of his truck was piled high with belongings, and even the back seat of his truck looked full.

She patted her hair again and smelled her shirt, but scrunched up her nose at that bad decision. The scent of old chicken poop had a tendency to cling to everything. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.

Ian Silver got out of his truck and strode around the front on his long, powerful legs. He was more intimidating than she’d remembered. Was he even bigger? She thought so. More filled out and muscular somehow.

She fidgeted until he looked up from the ground and stopped her cold with those bright blue eyes of his. “I have a few negotiations.”

“Uh. Okay?”

He hooked his hands on his hips and glared. “One, I’m not marrying you.”

“Non-negotiable. I want a husband.”

“Why? I can work just as hard whether I’m your husband or not.”

“Because I want you to have incentive to stick around, Mr. Silver. I’m not looking to hire labor for a season.” She gave him an empty smile. “I want to grow old with you.”

Ian inhaled deeply and rolled his eyes. “Oh, God. Fine, but you have to go through an entire year with me before we talk marriage.”

“What? No! You’re just buying yourself time to escape. I want a husband.”

“You don’t want a husband, woman. You want loyal help.”

“I know what I want.”

“Well, you’re being unreasonable.”

“I’m twenty-six years old, have horrible taste in men, and no prospects. Galena isn’t exactly teaming with available men my age, Mr. Silver. I put an ad in the newspaper for a husband, not charity work. I want someone I can depend on to work beside me, and what reason would you have to stay if we don’t say vows in front of a preacher?”

“My answer is no. We can talk about it after you see how it is living with me through the winter season.”

“Well,” she said, crossing her arms stubbornly over her chest and swallowing the lump of disappointment down her throat, “then I’m afraid we don’t reach an agreement.”

“Dammit, Elyse Abram, why are you turning away good help?”

“Because I want more than that.” Shit, it was out there now, and her eyes were burning with tears. “I want someone to be there for me. I’m not asking for love, Ian. I just don’t want it to be so easy for a man to leave. It took ten minutes for Cole to pack up his belongings and leave my life, and just like that,” she said, snapping her fingers, “he was gone.”

“Yeah, and what if I end up to be as bad as him? Huh? You don’t know me!”

“I know you well enough. I know you looked in my freezer first thing. Cole only opened that lid when he was taking something from me. You counted how much wood I had chopped and asked about my garden and took stock of my animals and for fuck’s sake, you even asked about the hay I’d planted. Cole didn’t care. He was on a bender in town while my brother and I planted those fields by ourselves. Will you raise a hand to me, Mr. Silver?”

“Never.”

“Then you’re all right by me. I want vows. I want a man legally tied to me. I want a man to see me and have pride that he is making something work with me, and I never want to wake up again wondering if my helpmate is going to leave.”

“Gah!” Ian barked out, his eyes blazing in irritation as he paced in front of her.

He ran his hands through his mussed hair and then flung them forward. Fuming, he turned and got back in his truck, and before she could muster up the words to stop him, he was pulling away and out of her life for the second time.

And it was back to square one. Again.

Elyse dumped another bucket of water over the floorboards in the chicken coop and stood back to inspect all her hard work. It had taken well into the afternoon for her to get it cleaned on account of the stupid tears that were blurring her vision half the danged time.

Stupid Ian Silver had teased her. She’d been so close to having a good man and the promise that life around the homestead would be less overwhelming, but he’d been here a total of five minutes before he left. Typical.

With a growl, she stomped out of the newly cleaned and entirely empty coop, then stabbed the earth with the pitchfork with every step she took toward an old water trough. Running water up here was sketchy. Uncle Jim had set it up to feed from a natural spring at the back of the property, but the water pressure left a lot to be desired, and it was cold as icicle piss. She grabbed the old rusted handle of the water pump and worked to get the water flowing. When it trickled an acceptable amount, she hurried to wash her hands and arms with the bar of soap that sat on the ledge. And when she was done with that, she turned her attention to the shelter for her two horses, Milo and Demon, the last one aptly named because he was a biting, bucking asshole to anyone in his saddle.

Shoes squishing in the mud, she swatted at a bug that was hovering right in front of her face, then skidded to a stop as she spotted Ian’s pickup coming down the road again. He wasn’t being careful about her driveway this time. Instead, he was skidding this way and that, pulling the trailer behind and going faster than she would ever advise with the short clearing she had for a yard.

He locked up the brakes, and the tires stopped spinning. The truck, however, took a good extra twenty feet to skid to a stop. Ian got out and slammed the door behind him, then marched over to her. He stood a good foot taller than her, so she had to arch her neck all the way back to take in his angry face. From the fire in his eyes, she thought he would ream her out, but instead, he held up a simple gold band between his pointer finger and thumb.

“This is a bad idea,” he muttered. Clearing his throat, he sank down to one knee in the mud and dragged his furious gaze up to her. “I can’t in good conscious marry you without you seeing what kind of man I am for one full winter. I can’t explain to you why, but I don’t feel right tethering you to me legally until you know all of what you’re in for. But I can give you this.” He held up the ring, and the sunlight glinted off it like newly washed miner’s gold. “I’ve never asked a woman to marry me, never even considered it, and this is the first and last ring I’ll ever buy. This ties me to you and to this place as well as any marriage license would. I’ll be your man, Elyse Abram. I’ll make sure you don’t go hungry and that you are safe. As long as I’m alive.” The last part he said in a quieter voice as the heat cooled from his eyes. “Wear my ring, and it’ll make me a part of this place. This is the only vow I can give you right now. It’s my final offer.”

Her mouth was hanging open, so she closed it with a small snap. Her breath trembled as she looked down at her dirty clothes and muddy, floppy galoshes in shock. “You’re proposing?”

Ian pursed his lips and nodded once.

“But I smell like chicken poop.”

He nodded again. “That you do. What’s your answer?”

Stunned, she gulped and shook a strand of loose hair out from in front of her eyes. “I accept your negotiations.”

Ian frowned slightly, then stood to his full, towering height and shoved the ring roughly onto her finger. He spun to walk back to his truck, but hesitated with his back to her. He turned and stared at her, his stormy eyes troubled. His throat moved as he swallowed, and slowly he rested his hand on her waist. She froze under his touch as warmth pooled in her middle. He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, his rough beard tickling against her skin. His lips lingered there, and she closed her eyes to savor the unexpected moment.

Easing away, he dropped his hand from her hip and nodded toward his truck. In a deep, growly voice, he murmured, “I brought you an engagement present.”

“You did? What is it?”

“Chickens.”

And as she stood there stunned, with the weight of the gold band heavy on her finger, watching her new fiancé unload cardboard boxes with holes poked in the tops from the back of his truck, a weight lifted from her shoulders. The advertisement had worked, and better than she’d ever imagined.

Ian Silver was hers, and not only that, but the man had already pegged the clear and direct way to her heart.

Pretty promises and poultry.

Forcing her legs to move, she squished up to him and took a box from his hands. It was heavier than she’d expected, and when she heard the mature squawking and fluttering from inside, she understood. He hadn’t bought her chicks to raise. He’d bought her adult hens that would already be egg producers. He’d probably paid a pretty penny for these, and now her respect for him as a capable man bloomed.

“Have you worked a homestead before?” she asked, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by how much she didn’t know about her fiancé.
Fiancé.
Geez, she’d really done it.

“No, but I know what needs to be done to keep you alive through the winter.”

“Oh.” She toted the heavy box toward the coop, ignoring how noodle-like her legs felt as she bounced this way and that as if she’d taken a half dozen shots of tequila. She’d been proposed to. Like, handsome-man-on-his-knees-in-the-mud-asking-for-her-hand proposed to.

She swayed at the door, but a firm hand gripped her upper arm. In a worried tone, Ian asked, “Are you feeling poorly?”

“I think I’m in shock,” she admitted as she allowed him to guide her into the giant coop. “I thought you’d left for good.”

“Well, you were stubborn and asking for it.”

She would’ve been offended if it weren’t for the teasing edge in his tone. She set the squawking, scratching box down with an unintentional thud.

“I’ll get the rest of them,” Ian murmured. “You go fill their water dispenser.”

“Okay.” Her voice sounded dreamy and strange to her own ears, as if it belonged to someone else.

She wasn’t used to being bossed around, and it should’ve rankled her, but by his worried tone, she got the distinct feeling Ian was asking her to do the easy job. She wasn’t making a good impression on him. She was much tougher than she looked and had made it through much bigger than a little engagement shock.

The coop was tall enough for her to stand to her full height. It was lined with nesting boxes along one wall with roosting polls, and there was a small door at the bottom of the opposite wall that allowed the chickens into the outdoor pen when it was open. It seemed she had cleaned this place just in time.

Elyse hauled water from the pump with a pair of buckets that sloshed against her legs with each step and filled the two water dispensers while Ian hauled another three boxes of chickens into the coop. Then he filled the grain storage box with bags of chicken feed while Elyse opened the cardboard lids and set the poultry free. They were all different colors. Browns, reds, and black with white speckles and oh, they would make a lovely array of colored eggs for them to eat. They were mostly grown but still young chickens, and she laughed as the last box revealed four adolescent turkeys that were just getting their adult feathers in.

When she turned, Ian was staring at her lips with the most peculiar look on his face. Another wave of heat burned her cheeks, so she busied herself with breaking down the boxes to save for later use. Nothing went to waste around here.

With the chickens, turkeys, and one mean-ass rooster fed and settled, Elyse turned to offer Ian help with unloading his belongings, but the man had vanished like a ghost. And when she peeked outside the coop, he was backing his snow machine off the trailer and onto a ramp as though he’d done it a million times. Then he turned it for the barn and disappeared through the open sliding doors.

Okay then. Elyse meandered to his truck, pulled open the back door, and guffawed at what he’d brought. There were a couple of trash bags of what must be clothes, sure, but most of his belongings seemed to be old, second-hand tools. Limb cutters, a chainsaw, an ax, and a giant silver metal box of what was probably wrenches and the like, along with a tackle box and a pair of fishing poles.

When Cole had moved in last year, he’d brought a duffle bag with him. That was it.

Pleasure unfurled in her stomach as she enjoyed the difference of this time with Ian. He was bringing his get-shit-done belongings, as well as clothes. She could already imagine his ax near the chopping block and his tools in the barn. He was about to imprint himself into this place as surely as his ring was imprinting itself onto her finger.

With an emotional smile, she pulled the hard case of his chainsaw out of the back and hefted it toward the barn. Wait, what if he got mad at her for touching his stuff? Did men get possessive of their tools? Uncle Jim hadn’t, and she’d never seen Cole lift a hand to help so he wasn’t any indicator on normal male behavior. Josiah hadn’t ever minded her touching his stuff, but he was her brother and the patient sort. Maybe she should rush back and put this where she found it.

Ian strode from the barn and nodded to her. The corner of his lip lifted, and he said, “Thank you,” as he took the burden from her hands.

As he sauntered off, Elyse froze there with her empty palms out, then turned and went back for another load. And when the tools were all in the barn and she’d settled the ax blade into the chopping block, she rushed inside to do a speed clean while Ian was still busy in the barn. At least she’d found the energy to wash the dishes this morning, but she hadn’t set foot in the guest bedroom in months. She dusted the dresser, swept the rustic wooden floors, and then replaced the bedding with fresh linens. After angling and re-angling the rocking chair in the corner just so, she turned and let off a yelp as Ian stood right behind her with a quirk to his lips.

Her heart threatened to leap from behind her breastbone. How was a man so big and powerful so silent when he wanted to be? He stepped around her, so close she could smell his piney, masculine scent and feel warmth radiating off his skin.

Ian set his trash bag luggage on the bed. “This’ll do. I’ll unpack later, but I think you should eat.”

She thought about her now empty freezer, and shame, not shyness, heated her cheeks.

Ian narrowed his eyes and cocked his head suspiciously at her hesitation, then turned and strode out of the house, his heavy boots echoing against the floors. The creaking of the freezer sounded a moment later, and a muttered curse directly followed. And now Ian was back in the mouth of the room, his lips pursed in a thin, angry line. “Woman, what did you plan on eating today if I hadn’t a shown up?”

She ran her tongue over her teeth, stalling and debating whether to lie or not.

“The truth,” he demanded, as if he could read her mind.

“I picked some carrots.”

“Carrots?” The volume of his voice made her hunch her shoulders to her ears. “Why haven’t you been hunting and fishing?”

Anger snapped through her like a rubber band popped against her skin. “If you must know, I have been hunting and fishing, but I’m pretty shitty at it, so I haven’t got anything. Yet. And when I’m not out in the woods failing epically at hunting, I’m racing daylight running this place. None of this has been easy on me, you judgmental beast.”

“Judgmental beast, am I?” His animated eyebrows quirked up. “Fine. Since you have me so pegged, you’re too damned skinny.”

Elyse let off an offended sound. “Well, you’re too muscular and probably require eighteen thousand calories a day. I do not. I’m not skinny. I’m efficient.”

“Horseshit. I can see your bones poking out through your shirt, and your stomach’s been growling since I got here.”

She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest like a shield. His words hurt. There. There it was. Him calling her skinny burned her pride. Oh, she knew she’d lost weight. She was the one who saw herself withering away in the mirror, but Cole had taken all of her damned seed potatoes, bartered them for God knows what, and left her so low on everything she was struggling to get ahead. And she hadn’t lied. She was shit at hunting. That was one lesson Uncle Jim failed to teach her before he passed, and Josiah had never offered to show her how to track animals. She had more pride than to beg people to teach her something a good Alaskan woman ought to know by instinct.

Furious at Ian for being harsh, and even angrier with herself for caring, she brushed past him, knocking against his irritatingly firm arm, and strode for the living room. The rifles were hung on wall pets in the front corner beside the door, and she picked the one that recoiled the least, then stomped out of the house.

She made it deep into the woods before Ian’s voice called out from behind her. “Where are you going?”

She bit back a curse that he followed her. “Hunting. Obviously.”

“No, not obviously. What the fuck are you planning on taking with that pea shooter? It’s good for muskrat and ptarmigan. Rabbits maybe. And you’re rushing off pissed with no supplies and no pistol.”

“Why would I need a pistol, Ian? I have a rifle.”

“If you can call it that. And as to why you would need a pistol…slow down. Elyse Abram!”