Bear Fur Hire (Bears Fur Hire #2)

The front door blasted open, and a mountain of a man ducked under the frame. When his striking blue eyes landed on her, Lena froze. His dark hair was cut short on the sides, but he wore it longer on top, and his jaw was hidden by a beard as black as pitch, making the vivid sky-color of his eyes even brighter. His nose was straight and his jawline strong, his cheekbones sharp. He looked like some wild animal, the way he straightened his spine slowly until he was at his full imposing height. Lifting his chin, he looked down at where she sat in the chair and dragged his gaze to the sketchpad in her lap, then back to her eyes.

Holy hell, they didn’t make them like this back home. Rugged, burly mountain man almost as tall as the bear skin rug under her chair, and oh Mylanta, the green sweater he wore was like a second skin, allowing her a peek at his defined chest and abs. He shrugged his arms until the open front of his jacket hid his body from her, and his eyes narrowed as if he didn’t appreciate her attention.

“Jenner, meet your new client,” Lennard said blandly from the kitchen.

Jenner jerked his gaze to Lennard and waited a few seconds too long with his response to be polite. “Where’s the rest of them?”

“The rest of who?” Lena asked, pushing the blanket to the side and standing up to her full, not-so-imposing height.

“Your team.”

She arched her eyebrows and shrugged. “No team.”

Jenner gritted his teeth. “The men you’ve come with.”

Dalton chuckled and sang low, “Here we go.”

Lena stifled a curse. “No men, Mr. Silver. Just me.”

“And what are you wanting to do? Please God tell me it’s a fishing excursion.”

“You can call it that. We’ll be going to the rivers at least, but I’m here for the bears.”

“Bears,” Jenner repeated softly, eyes going hard as ice.

“Brown bears to be exact.”

“They aren’t in season. Sorry.”

“Oh, I want to shoot them, but not with a gun. I’m a photographer.”

Jenner let off a huffed, humorless laugh and shook his head. “Uh-uh. Hell no. Lennard, I’m not doing it.”

“Now Jenner, she is an important client for us.”

Jenner approached her slow but spoke to Lennard. “I don’t care who the fuck she is. I’m not taking her out there. Not to photograph grizzlies. You want to go fishing, you let me know. Otherwise, pick Chance or Dalton for your death wish.”

“I was told you are the best.”

Jenner came to a halt right in front of her. Damn, he was tall. She had to arch her neck all the way back just to meet his glare.

“Flattery won’t get me to take you out there. This is my hard no.”

“Why? I have experience. I’ve been shooting black bears for the past year.”

“Black bears? Woman, those are fucking kittens compared to brown bears. Tell whoever sent you here that you’re sorry to disappoint them, but you want to live. Go back to wherever you come from, live a long happy life taking pictures of pygmy donkeys and armadillos or whatever it is you need to photograph to get by, and enjoy the rest of your days not in the stomach of a fucking grizzly.”

“Jenner,” Lennard said in a steely voice. “This is Lena Rhodes.”

“I still don’t care who she is, old man. She isn’t hunting grizzlies with a camera. I’m not doing it. I’m really not. Especially not when she’s…”

“Finish it. Especially not when I’m what? A novice? A woman?”

Jenner clenched his teeth so hard a muscle jumped in his jaw. “Yeah, the last one.” He turned on his heel and disappeared down the hallway.

She stood there, entirely stunned and completely infuriated at the ridiculous man. What was he complaining about? She wasn’t some inexperienced photographer. She’d been shooting wildlife her entire five-year career, slowly working her way up until she was ready for this opportunity. Pygmy donkeys and armadillos. She wanted to choke him and slap him and kick him in his family jewels all at once.

She stomped after him, hands clenched at her sides lest she get an even bigger and less controllable urge for violence.

“I wouldn’t,” Dalton warned.

But hang it all, the magazine had paid an astronomical amount of money to get her in this position for grizzly money shots, and the guide she’d chosen was out on the excuse that she was a woman? Hell no.

There were several bedrooms down this hallway, and one of them was hers, so she took a chance and shoved the door with the number two painted onto it.

She’d guessed right because Jenner stood near a sink on the other side of the room, completely shirtless and peeling off a crimson-soaked bandage that wrapped around his torso. He turned around so fast, she could’ve sworn he blurred, and now his eyes were blazing a strange blue-brown color she’d never seen before.

“What happened?” she asked in shock, stumbling forward a step.

“Nothing,” he rushed out, holding the loose end of the bandage he’d been removing.

She shut the door behind her, but he put a hand out. “No, don’t come in.”

“How long does it take to get a doctor out here?”

T. S. Joyce's books