Target: BillionBear: BBW Bear Shifter Paranormal Romance Read Online Free PDF Page A

old and charming. They still used keys attached to little wooden plaques with the room number burned in.
    He set aside the camera, moved to the window, and gazed out between slanted rooftops at the gray sea and sky obscured by slanting rain. Then he turned away and dropped to hands and toes.
    As he had begun doing at Tranquil Breezes, he worked slowly through a set of push-ups and other calisthenics that his body seemed to regard as familiar as walking, while he counted up the facts that he had learned.
    He knew how to follow people without them knowing.
    He had heard that inner voice again, the one that had told him to ditch his pills the day before, and it had said that that woman with the sweet curves, the wide eyes and soft round lips, was ‘the one.’
    He had no idea what it meant, but he did know this: he intended to find out before Marlo decided they were done with this town.
     

 
     
    Chapter Three
     
     
    Kesley unloaded her unsold art, then carried the groceries in. She put away hers, and took McKenzi’s down to her cottage, where she found a note on the fridge that the parents had made dinner.
    Kesley groaned. She loved her family, but she had been looking forward to huddling in her cabin with chocolate and some romantic movies—because everybody else in the world seemed to be able to do relationships right, except her.
    Flash! Her raccoon stirred inside her, and her mind shot back to Main Street and that big, handsome guy with the chiseled cheekbones and hazel eyes, and the wind tousling his dark hair.
    “No,” she said out loud. “Wrong one. Try again,” she muttered as she pulled her raincoat back on and began to trudge up the path past her house to the parental ranch house on the hill. “With my luck he’s married to the nosy woman.”
    Rain beat at her cold hands and the side of her face as she hopped up the steps. Inside the house, the place smelled like crispy, lemon-sprinkled Wiener Schnitzel, and Spinatknödel—spinach dumplings. And from the oven she caught the heavenly scent of baking topfenstrudel—cream cheese strudel.
    She walked into the living room, where McKenzi sat with Uncle Lee, fourteen-year-old Cousin Rolf sprawled on the rug before the fireplace rereading one of his tattered Harry Potters. Kesley’s father Ed sat in his usual spot in the falling-apart easy chair, his nose buried in the newspaper. Great-Aunt Gretel sat in the opposite chair, placidly knitting.
    Before Kesley could sit down, her mom and Grandma Enkel came in, carrying hefty trays to the dining table in its nook off the living room. “Perfect timing, Kesley, dear. Let’s eat!” Doris Enkel said.
    As they began passing plates and dishes with long-practiced efficiency, Ed said, “So, Bandit, sold anything today?”
    “Nada.” Kesley shrugged. “Listen—”
    “Overton’s tourist season is over,” Uncle Lee said, shaking his head. He sounded as mournful as his bloodhound looked. He and Kesley were the only non-cats in the room, except for Rolf, who was as yet an unknown.
    “I bet the crying clown woman sold something,” McKenzi said, grimacing.
    “But that’s not what—” Kesley began.
    “Proving that even locals have the same rotten taste as the tourists,” Doris put in, and smacked Rolf’s fingers when he tried to grab four rolls out of the basket.
    “I’ll eat ‘em!” Rolf protested, his voice cracking.
    “You don’t need four.”
    “I used to eat twice that many,” Uncle Lee pointed out lugubriously.
    “And I smacked your hands. Ach , did I not?” Grandma Enkel said, laughing.
    “People, I need to say something,” Kesley tried again, but—as usual—trying to focus the family was a cat-herding fail.
    “If Rolf wants extra food, there’s vegetables and fruit!”
    Kesley picked up her plate and thumped it down onto the table, making the dishes rattle. The family turned identical sets of startled eyes her way, because Kesley was never rude, temperamental, or loud. “There is a spy