Lion's Lynx (Veteran Shifters 2)

He’d been out of the Marines for ten years, but the Corps never really left your blood. The instincts were there for life.

But Cal gestured him at a chair, so Ken somehow managed to conquer years of psychological training and sit down across from him, just like two civilians having a meeting. He gave himself a mental pat on the back.

“Welcome back to Glacier.” Then Cal gave him a smile. A real, actual smile. Ken restrained himself from shaking his head and blinking.

“Thanks,” he said instead. “Congrats on the new baby.”

The smile softened. “Thanks. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

A little baby girl. Ken tried to picture Gunnery Sergeant Westland cooing over a baby girl in a tiny pink dress and booties, and came up with a flashing DOES NOT COMPUTE.

“Marriage and fatherhood are treating you right, then,” he managed.

“You’ve got no idea. You should really try it sometime.” The dopey look hadn’t left Cal’s face.

“Mmm,” Ken said, as though he were testing the idea, “…no, I don’t think it’s for me. Women are great, but not a lot of them go nuts over a guy who investigates bear poop for a living, you know?”

Not to mention how he was pretty sure most women wanted a man who’d stay home and be with them, cuddle on the couch and so on. When sometimes all a lion shifter wanted was to get out and range through the deserted countryside.

Forget sometimes. All the time. Ken had come to love his job, but originally, the only reason he’d studied environmental science after leaving the Marines was so that he could make a living outdoors.

Even environmental science required more office-and-computer time than he’d originally anticipated. But all that meant was that he maximized his field time, staying out in the wild for weeks at a time whenever he could.

And he didn’t want to try and build a relationship around that. Because it wouldn’t work, for one, and because it sounded freaking exhausting, for another.

Ken couldn’t be tied down. Twenty-five years ago, he’d left to join the Marines even when his first girlfriend had begged him not to, and he’d disappointed a few more girls in his youth when he’d refused to settle down and commit.

Finally, he’d just accepted that women didn’t want men like him, and he didn’t want women like them, and so they should probably all just agree to disagree and go their separate ways.

These days, he had flings now and then, but only when it was understood that it wasn’t going anywhere. Otherwise, he kept himself to himself, and enjoyed a monogamous relationship with the great outdoors.

Cal was shaking his head. “You’re not talking to the right women. I could name a few out here who have no problems with bear poop.”

Ken mock-fluttered his eyelashes. “How romantic.”

Cal closed his eyes briefly, and then said, “So this company of yours wants you operating in my Park?”

Back to business then. Probably for the best. “Both in the Park and just outside it. Ideally some good old-growth forested area, adjacent to some areas that have been logged in the last fifty years or so.”

Cal was nodding. “That’s doable. The paperwork that GeoSync sent me authorized payment of a local guide to give you locations and data, so I’ve called one up for you—the best in the business.”

Ken frowned. “I don’t need a guide. If you just point me in the right direction—or get a ranger to run me up some records on the local forestry—”

Cal shook his head. “The rangers are swamped; we’re at peak season right now, and there’s been some potential wildfires. Everyone’s got their eyes open, and I can’t spare anybody. But I promise you, I’ve hired the best private guide there is.”

Ken was about to explain, once again, that he didn’t need anybody to hold his hand through the process of doing his goddamn job, when there was a knock on the door.

“That should be her now,” Cal added, and raised his voice. “Come!”

The door opened, and in came a woman.

She was short and stocky, dressed in a loose khaki shirt and utility vest, jeans, and hiking boots. Her hair was pulled back into a severe bun, and she was wearing a no-nonsense expression.

So she definitely wasn’t trying to look attractive. Ken knew when women were presenting themselves to their best advantage, and this woman was here to do her job—no makeup, no frills, nothing.

Which meant there was no explanation for the burst of want he felt when he saw her. And not just from his human side: his lion sat up inside Ken’s chest and growled appreciatively.

Sure, she was pretty—her features were surprisingly delicate, compared to the image she put forward. The classic line of her nose, the elegant cheekbones and cupid’s-bow lips, all came together into a beautiful picture. Ken could see that, if it hadn’t been severely confined, her hair would be a mass of soft, ash-colored curls.