Babysitter Bear

  Babysitter Bear

  Bodyguard Shifters #7

  Zoe Chant

  Contents

  1. Dan

  2. Paula

  3. Dan

  4. Paula

  5. Dan

  6. Paula

  7. Dan

  8. Paula

  9. Paula

  10. Dan

  11. Paula

  12. Dan

  13. Paula

  14. Dan

  15. Paula

  16. Dan

  17. Dan

  18. Paula

  Epilogue

  A note from Zoe Chant

  Also by Zoe Chant

  Preview: Stoneskin Dragon

  Babysitter Bear

  © 2021 Zoe Chant, all rights reserved.

  This book is a standalone with an HEA, but includes characters from the earlier books. Here are those books in order if you'd like to read them:

  1. Bearista

  2. Pet Rescue Panther

  3. Bear in a Bookshop

  4. Day Care Dragon

  5. Bull in a Tea Shop

  6. Dancer Dragon

  There is a convenient boxed set of the first four books.

  Dan

  This couldn't possibly be the place. Could it?

  Dan Ross stood in ankle-deep snow beside the rural road, looking across snow-covered pastures to a rambling farmhouse with smoke curling from a fireplace chimney. There was a collection of outbuildings, all with neatly shoveled paths, and an honest-to-goodness barn with an actual horse browsing on hay, inside a wooden pole fence that wrapped around the barn.

  On a post by the driveway, a mailbox shaped like a barn read THE RUGERS.

  Apparently this was the place, even if he hadn't thought a guy like his old buddy Derek would live on a farm in a million years.

  He adjusted his duffel over his shoulder. It contained all his worldly possessions, mostly just a collection of spare clothes and a few books he was reading; he'd learned to travel light in the Army. He curled his gloved hand through the duffel strap. His other hand—a pair of metal clamps half-hidden in the sleeve of his military surplus coat—rested lightly against his thigh.

  Inside him, his bear seemed to stir, rousing a little at the smells of pine and woodsmoke on the clear sharp breeze.

  Woods? Run? Hunt?

  His bear was a simple animal with simple pleasures. He wished he could let it run and hunt. He just didn't have a clue what would happen if he shifted into a bear with only three legs and he wasn't ready to find out.

  He hadn't shifted since losing his arm, two years ago.

  He'd hitchhiked out here on a farm truck after taking a bus to Autumn Grove, the nearest town. The small town was unexpected enough. He knew Derek lived somewhere kinda rural, but he hadn't been prepared for the little brick downtown with its handful of shops.

  This, though ...

  Standing there in the cold wind, Dan took out his phone. He hesitated. He was right here at the top of the driveway. He may as well just walk down and knock on the door.

  Still, after a minute, he played back the saved message that Derek had sent him some months back, even though he already knew it by heart.

  "Hey, Danny-Boy," Derek's voice said, and Dan couldn't help smiling.

  "Yeah, up yours, Derek," he muttered at the phone.

  The message continued, Derek's gruff voice speaking as if out of the past. It was strange listening to it here, looking down at the little farmhouse rather than sitting on a bed in one of a number of shitty motel rooms.

  "Remember how we used to talk about setting up our own business when you got out of the service? I know that was years ago, but guess what. I'm finally doing it. Me and Ben Keegan from the old days got together and we're running our own private security company for people like us."

  There was a slight, meaningful hesitation on that last part. Shifters were what he meant, Dan knew; the secrecy habit was too deeply ingrained to talk about it, even on a voicemail message.

  "So anyway," Derek went on, "I'm reaching out to some of the guys I know from the old days. See if anyone's interested. We're just getting off the ground and we don't have much business yet, but hell, even if you don't need a job, let's get together just for old time's sake. I'm living in a town called Autumn Grove, and you're probably laughing right now because I was never a settling down in small towns kind of guy. But things change, you know? I'm gonna run out of message here, so I'll just text you my address and you can call or stop by. Assuming you're even in the same part of the country as—"

  The message cut off.

  Dan hesitated for a long moment with his thumb over the call button, then put the phone back in his pocket.

  "Yeah, it's a nice thought, Derek," he murmured. He looked down the driveway again. "But we haven't seen each other in a long time, and there are might be a few things you don't know about me. I don't think they hire a lot of one-armed guys to run security detail."

  Especially a one-armed shifter who doesn't shift.

  Still ... he'd come all this way. If Derek was going to turn him down, maybe it would be harder to do it in person than over the phone.

  He started walking slowly down the driveway. His low-topped town boots slipped and slid on the snow. With every step, he thought once again that he'd made a mistake. What was he thinking, dropping himself into the middle of the family life Derek had built for himself here?

  He came to a fence and a gate, made of heavy steel poles. It stood open, but there was a security camera mounted to the top of one of the poles. Dan smiled a little. Okay, that was the first thing he'd seen so far that felt like Derek.

  The horse raised its head, noticing him. It was a small black-and-white pony with a blue blanket wrapped around its roly-poly body. It gave a loud snort.

  "Yeah, thanks, buddy," Dan said. "Same back atcha."

  The driveway curved into a large, plowed-out parking area in front of the house. There were several vehicles parked there: a practical all-wheel-drive Subaru SUV, a big black truck, and a low-slung shape with a canvas cover draped over it and snow on top of that; from the shape it looked like some kind of classic muscle car. That was Derek's for sure, but much better for cruising on summer highways than driving in the country in the winter.

  Dan took a deep breath and mounted the steps to the porch. There was a cat at the door. As far as he could tell, it was an ordinary cat, not a shifter, a small gray tabby. It looked up at him and let on a small peeping miaow.

  "You too, huh?" Dan said, and knocked.

  There was no answer. When he listened, he could hear noises inside: voices, and a sudden crash.

  His entire body tensed. Were they under attack? Maybe that was why the gate was open.

  He dropped the duffel on the porch and tested the doorknob. It turned easily.

  Braced for trouble, Dan opened it.

  The cat uncoiled from its crouch and shot inside, just as something brightly jewel-colored sped outward past Dan's leg.

  "Catch her!" someone yelled from inside.

  Dan spun around and grabbed whatever-it-was on pure instinct.

  He found himself holding a tiny, bright purple dragon. It was so colorful, so shiny, and above all so small that it looked like a toy. But it was clearly alive. Its little claws dug into his wrist, and it stared up at him with glittering golden eyes.

  "Uh, hi," Dan said.

  It put out a tiny tongue and licked his wrist.

  "Where is she? Skye? Oh, thank God." The door was pushed the rest of the way open, and a man in a blue, open-necked shirt stepped outside. Not Derek: he was shorter and slighter, with a few strands of gray salting his dark hair. He had a slightly wild-eyed look about him. "That's a, uh—pet—just give her to me, please."
<
br />   "Here." Dan held out his arm and the little dragon leaped eagerly to cling to the other man's denim shirt. Dan frowned at him. There was a sense of familiarity about him. Then it clicked, all of a sudden. "Ben! Hey!"

  Ben's wariness abruptly relaxed into friendliness, the recognition of one shifter for another. "Oh, hey! Dan! Wow, it's been ages. Derek said he'd sent you some messages but hadn't heard back."

  "Yeah, I've been ... busy," Dan said. He was still staring at the dragon, which was now nuzzling against Ben's face. "Is that a dragon?"

  "This is my daughter, Skye," Ben said proudly. "Er, normally she's not quite this—purple. She's going through a phase. It's good to see you! Come on in."

  He held the door, and Dan retrieved his duffel and stamped the snow off his boots. The farmhouse was just as warm and cozy inside as it looked from the outside, with kids' toys scattered all over the place and a playpen in the corner. Dan felt terribly out of place. He didn't belong here. He shouldn't have come.

  "Derek!" Ben called. The dragon had wound herself around his neck like a scarf, gleaming in the lamplight. "Check out who's here, man!"

  The only response was a thump and a high-pitched banshee wail of "Nooooooooo!"

  "You guys aren't under attack or anything?" Dan asked cautiously. Ben didn't seem alarmed.

  "Sort of," Ben said wryly. "We're outnumbered too. But at least they're not armed." And with that cryptic comment, he led the way into the kitchen.

  If the living room had been a bit untidy, the kitchen looked like a hurricane had gone through it. The table was strewn with baby things as well as an open laptop and a folder of papers. Derek Ruger, all six and a half muscular feet of him, was trying to fill a bottle with a very small baby tucked up against his shoulder and a dark-haired little girl clinging to his leg and crying.

  Derek looked exactly the same as he had back in their service days, which was what made it so incongruous seeing him draped in little kids.

  The baby was in a pink onesie and looked very young. The toddler had a sparkly unicorn shirt half on and half off, and a winged pony toy clutched in one fist. There was a box of crackers scattered around her feet; it looked like they had been attempted as a bribe and then rejected.

  "Honey," Derek was saying, while trying to juggle the bottle and the baby, "you're going to have to put down Rainbow Sparkle Magic so I can put your shirt on."

  "No!" the little girl sobbed, clutching the toy to her chest protectively, as if he'd suggested stuffing the pony down the garbage disposal.

  "Honey, your arm won't fit through the sleeve like that. It's not physically possible."

  "You need a hand there?" Ben asked, trying to choke off a laugh. "Hang on, let me get Short and Scaly settled—no, sweetheart, not up there," he added, catching Skye as she tried to leap for the top of the refrigerator, tiny wings churning.

  Dan cleared his throat. "I'm pretty good with kids. Can I try?"

  "Be my guest," Derek said, and then did a double-take. "Whoa, Dan! Man, it's great to see you! What are you doing here? You never called me back. I wasn't even sure if I had the right number."

  "Yeah, sorry about that. Guess I had my own stuff going on for a while there." Dan went down to one knee and smiled at the little girl. "Hi, kid. I'm your dad's friend Dan. What's her name?" he asked, glancing up at Derek.

  "Mina," Derek said. "Short for Jimena." He swiveled his leg so that Mina was facing Dan. "Honey, say hi to Dan."

  Mina squeaked and buried her face in Derek's leg. The half-on, twisted-around sweatshirt dangled from her arm like a butterfly's partly shed chrysalis.

  "Hi there," Dan said. "Are you shy? Me too." He covered his eyes with his good hand. The other—the metal clamp hand—was still half hidden in the sleeve of his coat. "Where's Mina? Oh no, I guess she's gone. I can't see her at all."

  There was a tiny giggle. Dan jerked his hand down.

  "Oh, there she is!"

  Mina shrieked and hid behind Derek's leg.

  "Is this your pony friend?" Dan asked, and Mina gave a little nod. She was an utterly adorable kid, maybe two or three, with huge dark eyes. "I love ponies. Can I see him?"

  Mina hesitated and then lurched away from Derek's leg and held him out.

  "Wow, what a beautiful pony," Dan said, cupping his hand under the pony without trying to take it. "What's his name?"

  Mina mumbled something that sounded like "mmmmsparklymagic."

  "Wow. Here, let me give you a hand with your shirt, okay? Turn," Dan said, and she obediently swiveled and presented an arm. "I'll just hold your pony friend for a minute to keep him safe, and then give him back."

  "Holy shit," Derek said from above him. "Cow, I mean. Holy cow."

  "Dan's always been kind of a kid whisperer, hasn't he?" Ben said. Dan glanced up while pulling Mina's shirt onto her other arm. Ben had Skye wound around his arm like some kind of sparkly ornament, holding her wings down with one hand while she tried to scrabble free. "Remember how kids were always all over him? Village kids, orphanage kids, it didn't seem to matter if he spoke the language or not."

  "It's not magic or anything," Dan said, embarrassed. "It's not that hard." He tugged down the shirt and gave Mina back the pony, which she snatched out of his grasp. "There, that's better, huh?"

  "I've been trying to get that shirt on her for an hour," Derek said.

  "Well," Ben said, "if it makes you feel any better, she'll probably be out of it in a few minutes. At least if she's anything like Skye." He rubbed the top of the baby dragon's head with his thumb.

  "Can't dragons take their clothes into a shift?" Derek asked.

  "They can, sure. If they're wearing clothes to begin with."

  "Ah."

  Mina had now decided that Dan was her new favorite person. She offered him a soggy cracker.

  "Uh, thanks, sweetheart."

  "Sorry for the reception, but now you know what it's like around here," Derek said. He had the baby tucked in the crook of his muscular arm with the bottle in her mouth. "This is Lulu, and you already met Mina. Damn, it's been a long time, man! We've got a heck of a lot to catch up on. Coat hook's by the back door, coffeepot over there, cups above the sink. Help yourself."

  Dan hesitated; he had been trying to put this moment off as long as possible. Might as well get it over with. He stripped out of the beat-up old Army coat and hung it where Derek had indicated.

  Underneath, he was wearing a T-shirt with the straps of the prosthesis over the top. The prosthesis was the old-fashioned kind, probably unchanged in general style since the 1950s: a plastic flesh-colored forearm and elbow, a pair of metal clamps for grasping and manipulating objects, and straps that let him use his shoulder muscles to open and close the graspers. He had a fake hand that went in place of the clamps, but he hated wearing the damn thing because it was next to useless for picking things up.

  He took a deep breath and turned around to see them both looking at him.

  "What?" Dan said. "Never seen a guy hang up a coat before?" He went over to the coffeepot. "Things have changed a bit since you saw me last."

  "I guess so," Derek said. "Shit, man."

  Dan shrugged and got himself down a coffee cup. He used the prosthesis to open and close the cabinet door, trying to be casual and feeling a little like he was going through some kind of test, a job interview of sorts.

  And also just showing the other guys that he could still do everything he used to do.

  As best he could, he generally tried not to buy into any of that bullshit about only being half a man or whatever. He was still the same man he'd ever been; he was just a one-armed version of himself.

  But he also wasn't the kind of guy who was cut out for sitting at a sedentary desk job.

  And there were very few employers who were willing to consider a one-armed man for any kind of physical work when there were plenty of two-armed men who wanted the same jobs. To most human employers, he couldn't explain that shifter strength and durability helped make up for it; he could s
ling around bags of cement one-armed that would have taken normal men two good arms to carry. But how could he tell an ordinary human boss that he was twice as strong as a normal man and his bones didn't break as easy? They could look right at him and see that he wasn't suited to work in a warehouse, do security work, go into law enforcement.

  His therapist at the VA had tried to talk him into retraining for a new career. But there wasn't anything he wanted to do. Or more accurately, there was just one thing he wanted to do: work with his hands. And he couldn't do that anymore.

  This was his last chance. At least here, among other shifters, he didn't have to justify his strength and skill.

  And he'd procrastinated about as long as he could by stirring milk into his coffee. Dan looked over at the other two. "So this isn't how I was expecting my job interview to go, but ... are you still hiring?"

  A moment of blankness passed over Derek's face. "Oh, right. Yeah. The job."

  "Fuck, man," Dan snapped. Ben covered Skye's ears, although since she was dragon-shaped, not much ear was visible anyway. "I mean ... damn!" Okay, so he hadn't been around little kids in a while. "If you don't want to hire a one-armed guy, just say so."

  "Wait, wait, hold on. That's not actually the problem." Derek took a seat at the kitchen table, in front of the open laptop, and adjusted the baby in his lap. "The bodyguard agency is kind of a ... a work in progress, I guess you could say."

  "The problem is we haven't got enough work for even one bodyguard right now, let alone three," Ben said. "And I think you can see why." Skye had crawled up on his shoulder and was chewing on his hair.

  "We used to have Gaby's mom living with us and looking after the kids, but she met a guy at seniors' bingo night who was up from Florida visiting his grandkids," Derek explained. "So now she's down in Orlando most of the time. It's made getting the business off the ground a little bit tricky, since both of our mates work."