Mated to the Wilde Bear

Laurel parked and stared through her windshield at the crowd spilling out of Mack’s Brewery. It was barely dinnertime and not even close to tourist season, but the place crawled with people. No, not people. Shifters, she realized, as the faces filling the outside eating area came into focus. She’d heard they liked to hang here. It was how she knew where to find them outside office hours.

And true to the gossip mill, here they all were.

Five men, all of them built and toned and straining against the fabric of their cotton tees with the Blue Bear Search and Rescue logo printed across the left breast. She knew them all from the DOT meetings she’d sat in on, had spoken to one or two on the phone even. But she’d never allowed herself this close to them. Xavier’s rescue earlier today was the one and only run-in she’d had with the Wilde Crew, and it hadn’t been anything like she’d expected.

She’d walked into that rescue determined to remain professional, in control, and politely aloof. Between her chilly demeanor and the ridiculous amount of perfume she’d sprayed in the car beforehand, she’d hoped it would be enough to keep him from sensing her animal. If he’d outed her in front of the rescue crews, she would have lost it. Thirteen months she’d lived here and managed to keep her animal a secret. Outing herself now would have devastated her and possibly cost her a job.

when he’d let it rise to the surface. But Laurel couldn’t laugh. Not when she still felt the spark from their handshake all the way into her bones. And then tingles he’d sent through her middle, straight between her thighs, with a single

Wilde was no

signature on the report, she’d been tempted to delegate it to her assistant, but Laurel was no coward. Besides, if the men in her office found

and squared her shoulders. In and out, she told herself. Just

for the deck. The noise increased as she got closer, and when she rounded the corner, her breath caught

navy shirt was tucked, straining against the muscles underneath and accentuating his big biceps. His shaggy brown hair was messier than it had been earlier. She remembered because she’d spent the better part of the day wondering what it would feel like to run her hands through it. As if he’d sensed