Read Boarlander Cursed Bear (Boarlander Bears Book 5) for Free Online Page B

before she could stop herself, but Clinton caught her pointer finger in a blur. “It’s also rude to touch a shifter’s piercings without giving a blow-job first.”
    “Okay, now it just feels like you’re making up rules.” His grip was really tight on her index finger. “You gonna pull it?” She made a soft fart sound with her tongue, and Clinton surprised her down to her bones when he snorted and cracked a slight smile before forcing his face back into a mask of indifference. He let her hand go and crossed his arms over his chest.
    She positively glowed with warmth from the inside out that she’d conjured an almost smile from him. Finding her bravery, she pulled out a folded drawing from her purse and handed it to him. “I’m here because I keep having dreams about this boy, and he kind of looks like you.”
    Clinton’s face went slack, and after a few seconds, he yanked the paper from her grasp, unfolded it none-too-gently, and scoffed. “You think I look like a wonky-eyed pedophile?” He crumpled it up in a tiny ball and chucked it at a trashcan. It bounced off the rim and onto the ground. Clinton gave her a challenging look. “Anything else, princess?”
    Shocked, she stared at the wadded-up drawing on the ground. “Why are you so mean? I know I’m not a great drawer, but I spent time on that, and I was really nervous to show it to you.”
    Something indecipherable flashed through the gray of Clinton’s eyes for just an instant before he replaced it with disdain again. “Look, the shit is hitting the fan with my people right now. We have a big vote coming up, logging season starts in a couple weeks, I have to perform like some trained animal in a side show at the upcoming Lumberjack wars, and I’m not looking for anything with anyone. I’m not a fan of people, ladies included. What did you expect coming here? Huh? I’m not a nice or gentle person. I don’t care about anyone but myself. I like being alone. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me, and what the fuck are you wearing? It’s October! It’s cold for weak-skinned little humans. I can see your goddamned goosebumps from here, and it’s making me all—look, here is the reality of any kind of relationship with me, friendship or otherwise. I live in the wilderness in an old singlewide trailer with a bunch of fuck-ups. And I’m the king of the fuck-ups. I’m the worst. I hate everything. There is a reason I’m the last single on Damon’s mountains, and you’ve come to what…scrape the bottom of the barrel? Go pester someone you actually have a shot with. Whatever you are looking for…it ain’t with me.”
    Alyssa mirrored him, crossed her arms over her own chest because, yes, she was really freaking cold, but it wasn’t all from the chilly wind. It was from the ice in Clinton’s voice, too. “All I do is work, stay busy, and try not to think too hard because most of my life is a huge dark spot and I can’t find the damned light switch. And all that has come through is this dumb dream about a boy who saved me. I know how stupid it was to come here. I do. You’re a stranger, and you probably have girls coming up to you all the time, but that wasn’t what this was about. I just wanted to know why this boy was in my dreams, and some stupid, tiny part of me was just so desperate for answers, I thought you could give me something. Anything so I don’t feel so fucking lonely with what I’ve gone through.”
    “You aren’t the only one whose been hurt—”
    “I didn’t say I was! I’m sure you and your people have gone through more than I can even imagine. But that didn’t scare me off. I thought you would have more empathy for someone like me. Clearly, I was wrong.” Her eyes burned with tears, and she didn’t want him to see that he’d gotten to her, so she panicked. But instead of running back to her car like a normal person, she stomped forward three steps and wrapped her arms around Clinton’s waist. It was like