A bear cub sat in her pantry.

Mia squinted and peered into the dim interior. Yup, a bear
cub. The small ball of fur shifted, reflective black eyes
settling on her with interest.

Heck no, she was not being mauled by a bear.

She slammed the door shut and counted to five, sure it’d
been a figment of her imagination. Her mind had been playing
tricks on her ever since she’d walked through the door of
her deceased grandfather’s home. Part of her wondered if
he’d decided to haunt her as he’d always threatened.

A familiar pang of grief speared her heart. That fleeting
thought brought back the memory of standing at the old man’s
graveside less than a week ago, clutching her dad’s hand as
her grandfather was lowered into the ground.

Her eyes stung, tears forming and clouding her vision, and
she wiped away the moisture as it trailed down her cheeks.
He was gone. She needed to push past the grief and live her
life. He’d whoop her from one end of the house to the other
if he caught her crying over him. The man had lived to a
hundred, and he’d been ready for a break already.

A low, barking whine came from the pantry, the solid wood
muffling the sound but that didn’t negate the source’s
existence.

She had a bear cub. In her pantry.

Gripping the knob, she eased the door open and peeked
inside. Yup, still there. Huddled in a tiny ball, little
eyes trained on her. Every inch of his fur stood on end.

“Hey, little guy.” Mia kept her voice low, hopefully
soothing to the cub. She was either dealing with a wild
young one or a baby werebear. She was in Grayslake, Georgia.
All werebears, all the time. She glanced at the cub. Mia
voted for werebear. Like, really, really voted for werebear.

She hadn’t inherited the ability to shift but her dad easily
transformed from man to bear and back. So, she’d grown up
knowing about shifters. And he’d told her, and proved to
her, over and over again that weres in their animal form
still held onto their human thoughts.

She extended a hand toward the cub and kept her voice
pitched low. “Hey, sweetheart. Did you get stuck in here?
You ready to come out?”

The little cub shook its head and scrambled deeper into the
corner.

Crap. Well, crap on one hand and woo-hoo on the other. She
was fairly sure she was dealing with a were, but he remained
in her pantry.

“Okay,” she sighed. “The thing about it is, you probably
belong to someone who is a heck of a lot bigger than you and
me put together. Your momma is going to be angry her cub is
missing, and I don’t wanna get between you and her.”

Like, really, really didn’t want to get between a cub and
its mother. While a werebear had human love in its heart,
there was also the bear’s possessiveness and insane drive to
kill anything, or anyone, who came between it and its young.

The cub shook its head, and its eyes glistened, shining with
moisture that hadn’t been there before. This had to happen
on her first day in Grayslake.

“Okay, well, I’m gonna leave the door open. So, when you’re
ready to come out—” More trembling and an actual tear
escaped the cub’s eye.

Darn it.

“Listen, little guy, or girl, I’m sure you belong to someone
and they’re going to be so worried.”

She took a chance, and sought to confirm her beliefs. “Why
don’t you shift for me and tell me where you live? I’ll take
you home—”

The cub whined and clawed the ground, nails digging furrows
into the hundred year old wood floors.

“Hey,” she snapped. Cub or not, common courtesy spanned
species barriers. “No scratching the floors.” The little
bear immediately stopped. “Thank you. Now—”

A harsh, heavy pounding on her front door yanked her
attention from the cub. The wood rattled in its frame,
reminding her she needed to hunt up a repairman to replace
it. The door was original to the house, and she hated to
swap it out with something modern, but in a town filled with
bears… She’d rather have an extra layer of protection in
case one of the residents turned cranky at having a
mostly-human in their midst.

The hammering came again, followed by a rough yell, and she
sighed. Was everyone in Grayslake intent on disrupting Mia’s
move? First the cub and now this guy. She’d only been in
town a freakin’ day.

“Answer.” Thud. “This.” Pound. “Door.” Crack.

Aw, the crack did it. She’d buried her grandfather less than
a week ago and was moving into his home at his bequest. Now
some stranger decided to damage a piece of her memories. She
didn’t think so.

Mia looked to the cub once again. “I’ll be right back,
little one. Let me…” Her words trailed off as the pungent
scent of urine hit her, and a widening puddle emerged from
beneath the cub. She didn’t need her father’s shifter
senses. The small bear’s stark fear was unmistakable. There
was a reason the cub was hiding, cowering, in her pantry,
and she guessed it had everything to do with the man darn
near breaking down her door.

She held a hand out, palm facing the small one. “Stay.”

The only response she received was a tiny shudder.

More pounding from the front of the house echoed down the
hallway, the man’s increasing growls easily reaching her
through the old walls. If this guy had anything to do with
the cub, like she suspected, then she’d be facing a werebear
pretty darned soon.

Which really sucked.