Fearless Bond (Bears of Beauville #1)

Chapter 7

7

CALVIN

His wood ?

The front door banged, and voices sounded outside. I crept to the kitchen window and peeked into the snow-covered yard. A large truck stood parked outside, its tires equipped with snow chains. The short, round driver was dressed in a thick winter coat and a furry hat. Barclay walked up casually, wearing only his faded T-shirt with a checkered flannel over it, and reached out to shake the man’s hand. Wasn’t he cold? Together, they opened the back of the truck.

The other guy lit a cigarette and pulled out his phone while Barclay began unloading the contents and carrying them into a large barn-like building adjacent to the chalet.

It was indeed wood—large chunks of it in various shapes. There were trunks with and without bark, stumps with roots sticking out, thick planks with holes in them, and crooked branches. Some were cracked or otherwise damaged. And Barclay carried all of it in his bare arms. How he could even lift some of those pieces was beyond me. That man had the strength of a demigod.

The muscles on his arms… oh Lord. He barely broke a sweat. When he heaved a long, bark-covered log onto his shoulder, a whimper escaped me. I stared at his broad back, then at his round jean-clad ass.

I swallowed hard. My stomach was in flutters, and my underwear felt damp.

This was… unprecedented.

Had I just gotten aroused watching a man unload a truck?

Snickering, I covered my mouth with my hand. The niggle of embarrassment wasn’t enough to make me look away. I enjoyed the show until the end, when Barclay pushed the heavy doors to the barn closed, his boots digging into the snow.

I’d never seen anything more alpha in my life. I was hard and wet.

When Barclay came up to say goodbye to the driver, I spun around and rushed to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face.

Inappropriate erection under control, I returned to the kitchen.

Barclay was washing his hands in the sink… huge, strong, capable hands with thick, long fingers…

Oh my.

What was wrong with me?

“Sorry about that. I forgot the delivery was supposed to come today.”

“You’re going to chop that up for firewood?” I said hopefully. Visuals of Barclay chopping wood, shirtless , flooded my head. Based on what peeked out from under the T-shirt, he had plenty of dark chest hair. Those big pecs covered with soft fur must feel like heaven to cozy up to.

“What? No!” His outraged tone made me look up. Did he catch me drooling over his body? He was frowning at me.

Except now I found even his scowling hot.

Suddenly I found everything about him hot.

What the hell was happening?

Who was this new me?

“What? No?” I echoed.

“Those are prime oak pieces. I’ll check the humidity and put them to dry. Some might be good for the shop already.”

“The shop?”

“My woodshop.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not following.”

Barclay wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and threw it over his shoulder. “I have a woodworking shop.” He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the large barn outside.

“Like for furniture and stuff?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you make furniture from that? It looked damaged.”

“Of course you can.” He gestured to the kitchen table. I hadn’t paid much attention to it before, but now I looked properly. The thick top was puzzled together from five irregular pieces of wood with varying colors and textures. It looked costly, like something from an interior design store my father wouldn’t sneer at.

“You made that?”

“Most of the furniture in here is my own work.”

I glanced around with new interest. “Even the chairs?”

“Sure. The cabinet doors were here when I bought the place, just like the built-in wardrobes in the hall and in my bedroom. The rest is mine.”

I ran a hand over the back of a chair. The wood had a beautiful structure with reddish circles and dark, sealed cracks. The polished surface felt like satin against my hand.

“That’s incredible. It must have taken hundreds of hours.”

Barclay shrugged. “Been doing it for years. I use scrap wood, trees that were killed by storms and lightning or charred in forest fires, and whatever local folks give me.”

“Do you make a living from it?”

He offered me a smirk. “I don’t have a pool or a majordomo, but I do okay.”

“I guess you have no use for a pool up here anyway.” I pointed at the window. It was snowing again. “But a hot tub would be nice.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time I sell a big piece to one of the hotels in Green Peaks.”

He was smiling at me, appearing not nearly as grumpy as he had before. His brown eyes twinkled with golden light. The silence stretched, and I didn’t know what to say. Every question in my head felt either too personal or sexually inappropriate.

“Anyway,” Barclay began, rocking on his heels. I waited for him to continue talking, but he didn’t.

“I’ve been keeping you from work,” I finally said, proud I’d found a neutral sentence.

“Oh. That’s fine.”

“I can…” I gestured to the guest bedroom awkwardly.

“Um. I’ll be in the shed.” He waved around. “Just… do whatever you want to do. Like at home. I don’t have a TV, but there are books and stuff. Or… no stuff. Just books. Yeah.” He grimaced, then spun around and stomped off.

“Thanks!” I called after him.

I did look at the books. Not because I was keen to read—I doubted I could focus—but I was nosy. While Barclay worked in the shed, I went through his library and inspected every piece of furniture in his home except in his bedroom. I didn’t dare to snoop around in there. The scent near that door had my stomach fluttering.

Barclay returned to heat up a defrosted casserole for dinner, ate mostly in silence, and returned to his shed. It felt like he was avoiding me. But I was probably just taking personally something that had nothing to do with me. He had an actual job, and I’d been monopolizing his time. I tried to focus on reading, but I got caught up in thoughts of Barclay reading the same book. I imagined what he’d say if I asked him about it. Except he didn’t come back. Through the kitchen window, I saw the light coming from his shop.

At eleven, I gave up waiting for him. I lay in bed, head full of images of Barclay in various stages of undress carrying large chunks of wood. I really wanted to see him without a shirt.

The door clicked, and the sound of his steps passed by my door as he walked down the hall. He entered the bathroom, and the soft hum of the shower breached the silence. He was naked two doors away from me.

Hell, I wanted to see his cock. He must be big everywhere.

My balls throbbed, and my hole relaxed. I ended up shoving my hand down my pajama bottoms. My orgasm crested fast, short and unsatisfying. With two fingers up my hole, I tried to wring more pleasure out, but I felt empty and tired. I stroked my outer ring, smearing slick around. I should go wash up.

I must have fallen asleep before I managed to do that. When I woke up, it was still dark, and the fingers on my right hand were coated with dry slick. Parched, I sat up and fumbled to find a light switch. The lamp blinded me for a second before my eyes adjusted. The water glass I’d left on the nightstand was half empty. I chugged the contents and set it back. Why was I sweating so much? It wasn’t that hot in here, was it? I stretched my arms above my head and yawned. Was I getting sick? But I didn’t have a sore throat, not even a headache. There was just this restlessness and a dull ache around my middle.

I rolled to the side, about to stand up, and froze. Warm liquid smeared between my ass cheeks. Loads of slick. It felt oily, thicker than ever. Without thinking, I reached back into my crease. My hole was open, the ring twitching at the touch. The sensation was electric. Shuddering, I moaned, and more slippery fluid poured onto my fingers.

What the hell? I needed a shower.

I scrambled up and braced myself on the wall. My knees shook under me, and all the slick trickled down my thighs.

Sweet, merciful heaven, was I going into heat? That wasn’t possible. I had four months left!

Stumbling toward the door, I managed to open it.

The smell. It was thicker out here. Like a puppet on a string, I went after it.

It was Barclay. The big, grumpy alpha with muscles like boulders and the most enticing scent in the world.

I had to find Barclay.