Bear In The Rough: Book 1: Treasure Hunt (BBW Bear Shifter Romance) Read Online Free PDF

being watched and whispered about throughout the tavern. But rather than making me slow down and eat properly, this had the effect of pushing me to eat faster and chew louder just to see their looks of annoyance, gravy dribbling down my chin and onto the collar of my shirt.
     
                  Perhaps wishing to escape embarrassment by directing her attention to something nobler, Olivia turned the green stone over and over in her hands, examining it with a look of appreciation.
     
                  “It’s remarkable,” she said, her black eyes glittering. “The moment you held it up, I knew I had seen it somewhere. But for the life of me I can’t figure out where.”
     
                  “I’d be very surprised if you had,” I said.
     
                  “I recognize the symbols, if nothing else. They bear an uncanny resemblance to the markings on the sides of the pit.”
     
                  The legends of the various treasures hidden on the island had drawn armies and corporations and solitary explorers from all over the world, which was probably its intent. There was nothing here but seaweed and crabs and the bodies of long-dead explorers, but as long as people continued to believe in the old stories, business had boomed. Gift and souvenir shops made a killing selling equipment to inexperienced explorers who didn’t know a trowel from a hand towel. Never mind that no trace of the ruined temple or any other bit of island lore had ever been recovered.
     
                  “And why are you so keen on the money pit?” I asked her.
     
                  She shrugged, seemingly offended by the question. “It’s a living.”
     
                  “Yes, but why this place instead of somewhere else? What are you here for? Treasure?”
     
                  She shook her head. Then said in a low voice, “Adventure.”
     
                  I smiled and held up my wine glass. She held up hers and they clinked.
     
                  She was certainly beautiful, a fact which I had tried not to notice for fear of becoming distracted from the conversation. There was something in the way she laughed, how she tossed her dark hair back across her shoulders; how she pressed forward when she spoke as if she had the most incredible secret, and couldn’t bear to share it with anyone else. She had a way of drawing you in, making you feel special. Even though we had only known each other for about half a day (not counting our brief encounter the night before), and had spent much of that day arguing and fighting off woodland creatures, she engaged me with an intensity and immediacy that made me feel as if we had been intimate for long years. Long-sustained layers of cynicism and affected world-weariness fell off of her as she sipped her wine and discussed the realities of archeology that movies never depicted.
     
                  “You grow up thinking it’s all going to be dinosaur digs and outrunning enraged natives,” she said sadly. “It’s not that romantic, but it is methodical. I actually enjoy the tedium of our digs. I find them relaxing, a way to clear my mind, almost like meditation. Maybe not everyone could understand that, or want it, but it suits me. I thought I wanted excitement when what I really wanted was the monotony of an endless routine.”
     
                  She shrugged and sloshed her wine back and forth in her glass. “Anyway. What are you here for?”
     
                  With a heavy sigh I told her about my grandfather and his recent disappearance.
     
                  “A year ago,” I said, “my granddad was diagnosed with incurable cancer. Doctors gave him less than a year to live. And I guess some people, when they get to that point, start making plans to relax and spend more time with their families? Not him, though. Not