Page 2 of Bear’s True Mate

Loud music.

The kind you felt more than heard.

I sat there for a long moment, staring. Then I pulled up the listing on my phone and scrolled through it again. Cozy beach cottage. Private. Quiet. The photos showed one front door, but now I understood why the image had seemed cut off.

Because it was. Clearly.

My stomach sank.

I exhaled a slow breath and worked through my options. I could leave. Turn around, drive back through town, find the Seaside Inn I’d noticed signs for, and book a room. It was a solid idea, but I’d been driving for six hours already. My back ached, my eyes felt gritty, and I didn’t have the energy to problem-solve right now. Plus, the Seaside Inn probably cost twice what I’d already paid for this place, and who knew if they would have a room available? Plus, could I even get a refund on this place?

I’d been so ready to get out of town I hadn’t paid attention to the cancellation policy.

Pulling up the confirmation email, I scrolled all the way to the bottom and noticed it was nonrefundable as of seven days ago.

“Perfect,” I grumbled to myself.

Surely, I had grounds to void it based on the misleading pictures and description.

Did I want that argument, though?

Not really. I wanted out of my car and to not have to drive again for the next few weeks. I turned my engine off and stayed where I was. The bass from the music was still going strong. I could feel it vibrating faintly through the frame of my car.

“Okay,” I muttered. “This is fine. Everything will be just fine.”

I swung my door open and gathered my things, feeling slightly overwhelmed still. All I could think about was that I’d been lied to by whomever had listed this place. I headed inside, hoping there weren’t more lies waiting for me.

The key was in a lockbox mounted beside the door, just like the rental email had said. I punched in the code, grabbed it, and let myself inside.

The interior was better than the outside had promised. Clean. Simple. A small living area with a couch and a coffee table, a kitchen tucked against the far wall with appliances that looked newish. There was a short hallway that I assumed led to a bedroom and bathroom, but the thing that caught my eye was the desk.

It sat near the front window, angled to face the ocean, and the view was exactly what the listing had shown: water as far as I could see, blue-gray and glittering under the late afternoon sun, with a stretch of sandy beach between the house and the shore. The tension I’d been carrying since the driveway eased a little at the sight of it.

At least the entire listing hadn’t been a lie.

I set my laptop bag on the desk and my suitcase on the floor. Staring out at the sparkling water, I thought this might actually work. I pictured myself writing all the words from this spot while gazing out at the water.

Then the music from next door surged louder, the bass rattling dishes in the kitchen.

My lips pursed.

I smoothed a hand over my forehead, and then a thought came to me. Maybe they didn’t know someone had arrived yet. That was possible. The truck was here, so whoever was staying on the other side was home, but they might not have heard me pull up. Not over that noise, at least. I’d give it an hour. Maybe two. People didn’t blast music all day. I’d unpack and settle in. Eventually, they’d turn it down. Then tomorrow or later tonight, they’d notice my car and realize there was someone over here now. They’d keep it down after that, surely.

Then everything would be fine.

I hoisted my suitcase up and walked to the bedroom down the hall. The room was decent sized. There was a massive bed, a nightstand with a lamp, a dresser, and a window that faced the side yard. I hung up the few things I’d brought that needed hanging and stacked the rest in the narrow dresser drawers. Toiletries went in the bathroom, which was small but clean, with a shower that had decent water pressure when I tested it.

An hour passed.

The music didn’t stop.

Tea seemed like a good idea. The single-serve machine on the kitchen counter was easy enough to figure out, and a few minutes later, I sat at the desk with a warm mug of Earl Grey. The ocean was right there, gorgeous and calming, and I should have felt something settling inside me. Instead, the bass pulsed through the shared wall like a second heartbeat, and I couldn’t hear myself think.

Still, I opened my laptop and scrolled to where I’d left off. I’d managed to push through the first two chapters but had been staring at the start of Chapter Three for two weeks. The meet cute. The moment that kicks the whole love story into motion. It needed to be charming and flirty. The kind of scene that makes a reader smile and think oh, these two are going to be trouble. My fingers hovered over the keys.

Nothing came.

The music shifted to something louder. It had heavier tones to it and a faster tempo. When a door slammed on the other side, I jumped and then tried to settle back in again, but the muffled sounds of a man talking—or was he singing? It was hard to tell—filtered through the walls.