Bear Meets Girl
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CHAPTER ONE
Brutal, undeniable pain. The kind of pain that could kill a man. Maybe it had. Maybe the pain throbbing in his head right at this moment had killed him and hed have to spend eternity feeling like this. Like warmed-over shit melting in the hot desert sun.
The worst part about all this? It was his fault. He had no one to blame for this but himselfand those damn Jell-O shots. He should have stayed away from them. He knew better. All that alcohol in those delectable little jiggly squares ... what was he thinking? And now he could barely move without pain. Brutal, undeniable pain.
Lou Crush Crushek tried to open his eyes, but that only made things worse. It was morning and that light coming through the window was destroying any brain activity he had left. If he were home, hed simply go back to sleep for a few more hours, but he wasnt home. He could tell. The scent was different. He smelled feline. Everywhere he smelled feline.
Crush snarled a little. Thats whose fault this was. That damn cat. Male lions. Never trust a male lion! Sure, this particular male lion was married to a fellow NYPD detective and was from one of the wealthiest Prides in Manhattan, but he was also the asshole whod brought the tray of Jell-O shots around, in their innocuous-looking little cups, and said, with that feline grin, Go on. Try one.
So ... Crush had tried one. Then another. And another. After the eighth ... well, he didnt remember much of anything after the eighth.
What Crush did remember was making the mistake of going over to Detective Dez MacDermots house for a small get-together with some friends that turned into anything but. Normally, when parties or events became something he didnt want to deal with, Crush would find the first exit and head on home to his TV and his quiet life. At least the quiet life he had when he wasnt working undercover, pretending to be a merciless drug dealer, biker, and occasional hit man. But honestly, Crush didnt leave the stupid party because he was, for lack of a better, manlier word, depressed.
A word he rarely used about himself. He wasnt much for sitting around, feeling sorry about his life. He was a bear, after all. A polar bear specifically. No, not one of those guys who insisted on swimming in the Atlantic during the middle of winter to prove how virile he was. But a guy who could swim in the Atlantic during the middle of winter and never worry about dying of hypothermia. A guy who could shift into an eight-foot, twelve-hundred-pound polar bear anytime he wanted to. And, as a polar bear, sitting around being depressed wasnt really his thing. Instead, Crush lived like most of his kind. Being curious. Asking too many questions. Staring blankly at people until they became terrified and ran away. Eating whenever he was even slightly hungry. The usual.
Too bad, though, Crush had discovered something that all bears found distressing. Hed discovered there would be change. Change was coming Crushs way and he hated change. He liked to know things were going alongas they should, and when that didnt happen, he became depressed. He still hadnt recovered from the closing down of his favorite deli five years ago. Or that six years ago theyd moved his favorite shoe storeneedless to say that as a six-nine, three-hundred-pound guy, he couldnt exactly pick up his boots and sneakers from the local sports storeand Crush still walked to where the old shoe store had stood, gazing into the window, wishing things were like they once were, until the customers inside the tea shop called police about the crazed meth dealer lurking outside the door.
So no, Crush didnt handle change well, but he didnt see that there was anything he could do to prevent this change from happening. Not after one of his old partners had called him and given him a heads-up. The man wouldnt have called unless he was sure. So now Crush was just waiting for the anvil to drop.
Unfortunately, it felt like that anvil had already dropped right on his head.
He couldnt do this. He couldnt sit here in a coworkers house, waiting for the hangover and migraine he had to go away. No, he just needed to get a move on. He had to get up. He had to deal with the pain. He had plans anyway for the afternoon and he wasnt about to miss out on them. So he had to get up.
But there appeared to be a little problem with him just leaping from bed and facing the day. And that problem was the naked female sprawled across his chest.
Uncaring about the brutal pain it would cause, Crush opened his eyes and looked down. Yep. That was a female all right. Ahe took a snifffeline female. Crushs lip curled. Another feline. The most untrustworthy of species in his opinion. And since he was naked, too, he could only assume that theyd ... well ... you know.
Christ, what was wrong with him? This wasnt like him. Crush didnt get drunk and sleep with random people. He just didnt. It wasnt in his DNA. It wasnt just the NYPD who called him By the Book Crushek, either. He had classmates from junior high, high school, and college who called him that as well.
Yet a little depression, a few too many Jello-O shots to drink at a house party, and here Lou Crushek was. Naked. With a feline.
Who was this female anyway? Anyone he knew? Crush didnt think so. He knew lots of felines, but he didnt spend time around them because they were, as hed already stated and everyone knew, totally untrustworthy. It was a fact. Look it up!
Too bad Crush couldnt be one of those guys who drunkenly slept with a woman only to sneak out before she woke up. It would definitely make his life a whole lot easier, but that would bring him to a new level of tacky he couldnt handle. Just because he felt his life falling apart around himhe hated change!didnt mean hed allow it to actually fall apart. And part of keeping his life together was doing the morally right thing.
Brutal, undeniable pain. The kind of pain that could kill a man. Maybe it had. Maybe the pain throbbing in his head right at this moment had killed him and hed have to spend eternity feeling like this. Like warmed-over shit melting in the hot desert sun.
The worst part about all this? It was his fault. He had no one to blame for this but himselfand those damn Jell-O shots. He should have stayed away from them. He knew better. All that alcohol in those delectable little jiggly squares ... what was he thinking? And now he could barely move without pain. Brutal, undeniable pain.
Lou Crush Crushek tried to open his eyes, but that only made things worse. It was morning and that light coming through the window was destroying any brain activity he had left. If he were home, hed simply go back to sleep for a few more hours, but he wasnt home. He could tell. The scent was different. He smelled feline. Everywhere he smelled feline.
Crush snarled a little. Thats whose fault this was. That damn cat. Male lions. Never trust a male lion! Sure, this particular male lion was married to a fellow NYPD detective and was from one of the wealthiest Prides in Manhattan, but he was also the asshole whod brought the tray of Jell-O shots around, in their innocuous-looking little cups, and said, with that feline grin, Go on. Try one.
So ... Crush had tried one. Then another. And another. After the eighth ... well, he didnt remember much of anything after the eighth.
What Crush did remember was making the mistake of going over to Detective Dez MacDermots house for a small get-together with some friends that turned into anything but. Normally, when parties or events became something he didnt want to deal with, Crush would find the first exit and head on home to his TV and his quiet life. At least the quiet life he had when he wasnt working undercover, pretending to be a merciless drug dealer, biker, and occasional hit man. But honestly, Crush didnt leave the stupid party because he was, for lack of a better, manlier word, depressed.
A word he rarely used about himself. He wasnt much for sitting around, feeling sorry about his life. He was a bear, after all. A polar bear specifically. No, not one of those guys who insisted on swimming in the Atlantic during the middle of winter to prove how virile he was. But a guy who could swim in the Atlantic during the middle of winter and never worry about dying of hypothermia. A guy who could shift into an eight-foot, twelve-hundred-pound polar bear anytime he wanted to. And, as a polar bear, sitting around being depressed wasnt really his thing. Instead, Crush lived like most of his kind. Being curious. Asking too many questions. Staring blankly at people until they became terrified and ran away. Eating whenever he was even slightly hungry. The usual.
Too bad, though, Crush had discovered something that all bears found distressing. Hed discovered there would be change. Change was coming Crushs way and he hated change. He liked to know things were going alongas they should, and when that didnt happen, he became depressed. He still hadnt recovered from the closing down of his favorite deli five years ago. Or that six years ago theyd moved his favorite shoe storeneedless to say that as a six-nine, three-hundred-pound guy, he couldnt exactly pick up his boots and sneakers from the local sports storeand Crush still walked to where the old shoe store had stood, gazing into the window, wishing things were like they once were, until the customers inside the tea shop called police about the crazed meth dealer lurking outside the door.
So no, Crush didnt handle change well, but he didnt see that there was anything he could do to prevent this change from happening. Not after one of his old partners had called him and given him a heads-up. The man wouldnt have called unless he was sure. So now Crush was just waiting for the anvil to drop.
Unfortunately, it felt like that anvil had already dropped right on his head.
He couldnt do this. He couldnt sit here in a coworkers house, waiting for the hangover and migraine he had to go away. No, he just needed to get a move on. He had to get up. He had to deal with the pain. He had plans anyway for the afternoon and he wasnt about to miss out on them. So he had to get up.
But there appeared to be a little problem with him just leaping from bed and facing the day. And that problem was the naked female sprawled across his chest.
Uncaring about the brutal pain it would cause, Crush opened his eyes and looked down. Yep. That was a female all right. Ahe took a snifffeline female. Crushs lip curled. Another feline. The most untrustworthy of species in his opinion. And since he was naked, too, he could only assume that theyd ... well ... you know.
Christ, what was wrong with him? This wasnt like him. Crush didnt get drunk and sleep with random people. He just didnt. It wasnt in his DNA. It wasnt just the NYPD who called him By the Book Crushek, either. He had classmates from junior high, high school, and college who called him that as well.
Yet a little depression, a few too many Jello-O shots to drink at a house party, and here Lou Crushek was. Naked. With a feline.
Who was this female anyway? Anyone he knew? Crush didnt think so. He knew lots of felines, but he didnt spend time around them because they were, as hed already stated and everyone knew, totally untrustworthy. It was a fact. Look it up!
Too bad Crush couldnt be one of those guys who drunkenly slept with a woman only to sneak out before she woke up. It would definitely make his life a whole lot easier, but that would bring him to a new level of tacky he couldnt handle. Just because he felt his life falling apart around himhe hated change!didnt mean hed allow it to actually fall apart. And part of keeping his life together was doing the morally right thing.
