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  Copyright © 2018 by Lovestruck Romance.

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  * * *

  This book is intended for adult readers only.

  Any sexual activity portrayed in these pages occurs between consenting adults over the age of 18 who are not related by blood.

  Contents

  Story Description

  1. Presley

  2. Presley

  3. Sam

  4. Presley

  5. Sam

  6. Presley

  7. Sam

  8. Presley

  9. Presley

  10. Sam

  11. Presley

  12. Sam

  13. Presley

  14. Sam

  15. Presley

  16. Sam

  17. Presley

  18. Sam

  19. Presley

  20. Presley

  21. Sam

  22. Presley

  23. Presley

  24. Presley

  25. Sam

  About the Author

  Sam

  Bears of Burden

  Candace Ayers

  Lovestruck Romance

  Sam has watched his buddies go through the mate bonding process, and he couldn’t be happier for them. Really. He can’t help the little twinge of jealousy, though. He’s been waiting a long time to find his mate, and he’s more than ready.

  * * *

  Presley Gray grew up in an authoritarian household run by her father, a fire and brimstone preacher in the small religious enclave of Macon’s Edge. Now that she’s free, she feels a little like a calf that’s just learned to stand on its own.

  * * *

  When Sam finally comes face to face with Presley, he is overjoyed and relieved to have finally found her. His mate. There’s only the small problem, she’s already dating his cousin.

  1

  Presley

  My new landlord had evidently been grossly understating when she’d said the little house at the end of the lane was old. I stood outside of my new home, mouth agape, fighting tears. Everything the woman had told me had been a complete exaggeration. The “charming cottage” wasn’t charming at all. It was a run-down, falling apart, older than dirt shack. Furthermore, I doubted very much that, even in its better days, it had ever been a charming cottage. Was it my imagination, or did the whole structure lean to the left? I couldn’t find a trace of the vintage appeal I had hoped for. The “sweet little garden” I’d been promised looked more like a threatening tangle of overgrown jungle. No, my landlord hadn’t been exaggerating, she’d been outright lying.

  The white paint on the clapboard siding was peeling in large flakes, desperate to detach itself from the eyesore. The windows were covered with worn wooden shutters, missing more than half of their slats. The roof was tin, from the looks of it, and had rusted into that signature burnt orange hue that tin seemed to navigate towards over time. The front door that may have once been white was a dingy gray with large vertical cracks that did nothing to convince me of its sturdiness.

  I wasn’t even sure it would be safe to approach the front as I studied the porch. The simple concrete slab had chunks of the edges falling off into the yard below. Two columns of crumbling brick tried with all their might to hold up the sagging porch roof. Not an easy task, to be sure, since each was missing several bricks.

  As I took a couple steps towards the dilapidated structure I was to call home, dry dirt swirled up from the driveway with each footfall.

  Shock was keeping me from venturing too far from my old rusty truck that I’d named Bessie. I peeked around the sides of the house, but saw nothing but the sweet little garden, a.k.a. nasty weed jungle. Wild, thorny brush consumed the area in dark greens and browns. It certainly was not the colorful floral garden I’d been expecting.

  I was terrified to go any farther. I stood staring at my new home, my mind grasping for a solution. I’d already put down all the money I had as a deposit. I wasn’t naïve enough to think that the shrewd woman I’d dealt with was going to just hand me my cash back when I asked her for it. There was nothing I could do. I had nowhere else to go.

  Up until a few weeks prior, my home had been Macon’s Edge. The family home was a big, old, sprawling beast of a house that I shared with my parents and five sisters. It’d been overly cozy at times, but I’d liked the comradery I’d shared with my sisters and I’d never known anything different.

  At the age of twenty-seven, I could admit that I was stunted. Macon’s Edge did that to people, though. A small community of around a hundred and fifty people, it sat in the middle of nowhere, between Burden and Dallas, Texas. Most people didn’t even know it existed and that’s how the holier than thou bible thumpers of Macon’s Edge liked it, too.

  My bitterness aside, they were good people, if perhaps misguided. Religious to a fault, they liked to keep to themselves, a close-knit community shunning outsiders whose viewpoints and secular thinking might challenge the preachings of their beloved pastor, my father. I suppose I was born different from the others. Even from an early age, I’d always been one to question things. I tried to be good, to follow the holy path, but as hard as I tried, questions popped up that seemed to challenge the ultra-conservative doctrine embraced by my authoritarian father and his congregation, or flock as they preferred to be called.

  The straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back for me, was Kyle Barnes, the man who I thought was everything, my hero, my savior, my prince charming. My prince charming, it turned out, was nothing but a frog.

  It was a total nightmare, the whole sordid mess. Kyle was charming, and handsome, and the first man who made me feel, worthy. I sort of knew that my family, under the strict rule of my father, would never accept Kyle unless he embraced our teachings and joined the flock. The way Kyle made me feel, though, I couldn’t resist him.

  When he asked me to be his wife, I was so swept up in the romantic fantasy, that of course I said yes, hoping and praying that somehow, things would work out and either Kyle or my parents would give just an inch.

  Before that could happen though, my world came crashing down around me. I’d learned that Kyle had been deceiving me, a sinister betrayal that had left me reeling. What was worse was that while I was suffering from the pain of Kyle’s betrayal, word of our engagement had spread to Macon’s Edge. Who had tattled on me or why, I would never know, but father had been so enraged, that when he confronted me, I thought he might actually send me to an early grave. He called me horrible names, a whore and a filthy slut, and told me that I was a daughter of Satan, hopelessly and eternally damned.

  I was banished from his God-fearing home, which essentially banished me from all of Macon’s Edge. No one in his flock would take me in after father labeled me a heathen and an apostate.

  So, instead of being surrounded by my sisters and other members of the flock, I was standing alone in front of my new dwelling place, that probably should have been condemned.

  Once again, feelings of shame and inadequacy washed over me. I was very aware that I had no meaningful life experience, that I lacked street smarts, as some would say. I was afraid to walk up to the door and open it. What wo
uld I do if the house was uninhabitable? I had no clue how to survive on my own outside of Macon’s Edge. I couldn’t even take care of myself.

  Father’s voice echoed through my head. His words extolling what a worthless failure I was, a vain sinner who would come crawling back on her hands and knees begging forgiveness from those who had the strength, unlike me, to look Satan in the eye and say No. Anger bubbled to life in me. I might be useless, but I didn’t have to remain so.

  I desperately wanted to prove him wrong. I didn’t need him. I didn’t need Macon’s Edge. I could survive without the flock. I’d been trying to release myself from religious bondage for years, anyway. I just hadn’t planned on it being so abruptly, or with nothing but a couple hundred dollars and a bag I’d packed in under five minutes.

  All my life, I’d been taught to swallow down any negative emotion, bury it, but right now, I let anger fuel me. I marched through the dusty yard and up the squeaky stairs. I didn’t stop until I was at the front door, my hand resting shakily on the rusted doorknob. The cracks running through the door looked more severe close-up. I turned the knob, and pushed the door open.

  If the outside was a nightmare, the inside was Freddy Krueger. Even with the streams of sunlight beaming behind me, I couldn’t make myself step inside. Cob webs and musty shadows silently screamed for me to run for my life, and I wasn’t so much of a rebel that I could refuse them.

  I turned and slammed the door shut behind me before racing down the dusty driveway to the haven of my Bessie. When I started her, the old girl rumbled and coughed but she started before catching reverse and jerking backwards.

  Not knowing where to go, I headed back toward town. Even though I had nowhere else, I didn’t think I could brave going into that house alone.

  I tried to hold back the tears, but one escaped, and once one escaped, the rest followed in a torrential cascade that quickly became gut-wrenching sobs. It was so bad. I was so out of control that I had to pull over on the side of the road. Bessie sputtered and shook violently before dying. Flopping my head dramatically down onto the steering wheel, I jumped as the horn blared.

  Scared and feeling more alone than I could ever remember feeling, I let myself bawl. It wasn’t something that father had ever permitted. Ladies were raised to be sweet and supportive. Allowing her emotions to show labeled a woman selfish and sour. No man would accept a selfish, sour woman. Nor should he. A woman’s role, according to the pious Reverend Gray, was to complement a man, not satisfy her own selfish desires. At home, I’d sucked it up and swallowed so many lumps in my throat over the years that there was probably a permanent section of my stomach chock full of emotional issues.

  Things were happening so suddenly. Life had been on pause for the first twenty-seven years of my life and suddenly I’d had to go and push the play button. I had a lot to learn about how the world worked outside of Macon’s Edge. The real world. I’d had a crash course over the past weeks. Including finding out my fiancé had been serial cheating on me throughout our courtship and engagement, followed by me foolishly being lured into a one night stand with a stranger.

  I’d spent the last couple weeks, since being expelled from Macon’s Edge, holed up in a rent-by-the-week motel on the outskirts of Dallas. It was all that I could afford while looking for a place to rent. The things I’d seen were not things I would ever forget.

  I’d witnessed people using all varieties and manner of drugs, and in various ways and places on their bodies that I would have thought impossible if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. There were people frequently having sex out in public, and strange sounds at night that I wasn’t sure were pleasure or pain. I had been so eager to get out of Dallas and find a place I could call my own. I prayed for a place where I couldn’t hear my neighbors trying to kill each other and where I’d never again be chased by a man waving his penis at me from his wheelchair while offering to give me the ride of my life.

  A knock on my window made me scream and I instinctively jerked away from it. Focusing through tears, I saw a man bent over, peering in at me. He wiggled his finger in a little wave and smiled.

  I held up my hands and shook my head. “I have no money. Nothing of value. Please, just leave me alone.”

  His brows furrowed and he shook his head. “Roll your window down, ma’am. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  I hesitated, feeling like I might be about to make another mistake, but I cranked the window down while leaning away from him.

  “Eww…” I hadn’t meant to utter it aloud, but I also hadn’t expected such a handsome man to be accompanied by the ripe stench of animal manure.

  He laughed, seemingly un-offended, and shrugged. “I’m a veterinarian. The odors sometimes come with the job. So, care to tell me what’s so wrong that it made a pretty lady like you shed tears?”

  2

  Presley

  I laughed a bitter laugh and wiped my teary eyes. “What’s so wrong? What isn’t wrong? First of all, you’re not going to show me your penis or try to kill me, are you?”

  He grinned and stepped back. “My… uh… penis will stay in my pants where it belongs, and I’m no killer. Come on out.”

  The truck door creaked when I opened it and the whole truck groaned when I stepped out, which was just insulting. I didn’t weigh that much. I pushed the door shut. “This is not a good day for me.”

  The man just kept grinning. He had short, dark hair and a rough beard that was in need of a good trim, but he was absolutely gorgeous. Intelligent but kind eyes stared at me with laugh lines crinkling their edges. Straight, white teeth and dimples just pushed him over the edge into model territory.

  “Truck trouble?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. She died, but sometimes she just needs a rest, I haven’t even tried to restart her. I just needed to sit for a minute.”

  “I see. What’s the problem?”

  I took him in and crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m not sure I should say. I mean, I don’t know you.”

  He held up his hands, palms facing up. “I’m a nice guy. I saw you stranded and wanted to help. That’s all.”

  I chewed on my lower lip and gave into my nature of trusting everyone and everything around me. “It’s a long story.”

  “Hmm. Well, I’ve got to run to another farm to check on a cow who’s trying to give birth. How about you come with me? It’s just up the road.”

  “A birth?” I couldn’t keep the awe out of my voice. Back at Macon’s Edge, one member of the flock had a few milk cows, but I’d never seen one give birth before.

  He nodded. “A birth. I could use a hand if you want to come along.”

  I nodded eagerly, craving the chance to forget about how stressed I was for just a little while. “Sure, but if this is some kind of trick to get me into the woods alone with you, I’m warning you now that I know karate.”

  I didn’t. I would be hard-pressed to think of one thing to do to defend myself if he tried to overpower me. Yet another way I was grossly unprepared for the real world.

  “Consider me formally warned. I’m Dr. Matt Jennings, the local veterinarian here in Burden. Nice to meet you.”

  I shook the hand he extended and gave him a shaky smile. “Presley Gray.”

  He gestured behind him to his shiny black Ford F-250 and walked toward it. “Okay, start talking, Presley Gray. Tell me all of your woes.”

  “All of them?” I quickly locked Bessie and hurried to catch up with him. “I didn’t think veterinarians counseled human patients.”

  Matt opened the door for me and easily caught me around the waist and lifted me inside the big truck. “I’m multi-talented.”

  I frowned as he reached over and buckled me in. “I must look like a pathetically helpless lost puppy, huh?”

  He shook his head. “No, you don’t look pathetic, your tears just got to me is all. I’m probably overdoing the whole papa bear thing, but we all need a helping hand once in a while.”

  I laughed, surprisin
g myself, and shook my head. “Come on, papa bear, let’s go see mama cow.”

  As he walked around the truck, I pondered the insanity of what I was doing. I’d just gotten into a strange man’s truck to head to an unknown location. Not a soul on Earth knew where I was or what I was doing. All my life, I’d been warned about the evils of those who lived outside of Macon’s Edge, those outside the flock. I’d been raised to think they had no moral compass whatsoever. While I didn’t truly believe that, Matt the handsome veterinarian could be a serial killer intent on dismembering me with a hacksaw and leaving my remains in the woods for wild animals to devour. I sighed. That would stink.

  Matt started the truck and glanced over at me. “Start talking.”

  If I was going to be dismembered and devoured, I might as well get things off my chest while I still could, I figured. “I got kicked out of my home, spent time in a seedy motel in Dallas, and rented the first house here I could find.”

  “There are rental properties in Burden?”

  I cast him a look. “I think I found the one and only. I also found out why no one else has rented it.”

  He winced. “That bad, huh?”

  “Worse. Picture something from your childhood nightmares and age it by a hundred years.”