Grumpy the Bear

GRUMPY THE BEAR BLUEBALL BAND OF BROTHERS MARIKA RAY Grumpy the Bear Copyright © 2023 by Marika Ray This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. First Edition: June 8, 2023 Cover Model: Blaze Photographer: Wander Aguiar Cover Artist: Jennifer Olson All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. Ebook ISBN: 978-1-950141-59-3 Original Paperback: 978-1-950141-60-9 Special Edition Paperback ISBN: CONTENTS Description Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Epilogue Also by Marika Ray About the Author DESCRIPTION He’s a tattooed, blue-eyed jerk who has no business being a single dad. He’s also my next-door neighbor, and after negotiations, my grumpy employer for the summer. I don’t put up with cocky males normally and I certainly won’t put up with that man making noise at all hours of the day and night while he builds his glamp-ground. I offer advice, but the stubborn fool just turns his tractor on to drown me out. He returns the favor by pushing my buttons and making me so angry I can’t see straight. And I really want to be able to see his gorgeous body in those well-worn jeans and backward hat. Amidst the verbal warfare, I discover he’s hiding scars from a recent accident. I also find out his light eyes heat up to a smoldering icy gray when I give as good as I get. Makes me want to see just how far I can push him and what he’ll do when he boils over. Gannon’s been dealt a rough hand in life, and when I find a way under that gruff—and stupidly handsome—exterior, I find that maybe he’s not Grumpy the Bear as I nicknamed him, but instead just a teddy bear. CHAPTER ONE Gannon I never thought rock bottom would feature a shit ton of dolls and a tongue that never stopped licking me. Yet here I was in my truck, driving across farmland that looked several years deep in a drought, dancing a doll across my dashboard to entertain my daughter and fending off a puppy spinning around in a circle on the passenger seat before leaping across the console to paint his tongue across my face for the fifth time in as many minutes. “Down, Meatball!” The little mutt just looked up at me with misplaced adoration and not one lick of sense in his head. “Be nice, Daddy!” Elise chimed in from the child seat in the back. Thank God for five-point harnesses to keep the minx in one spot while I drove. Maybe Meatball needed one too. A headache was brewing, but that was nothing new. Probably had one for six straight months now, one that not even the heavy-duty painkillers could take away. You see, my life had been golden for close to thirty-five years. Sure, I’d lost my mama when I was a little boy, but my dad, while a bit on the cold, demanding side, had been decent, all things considered. I’d played football to burn up my teenage aggression and then moved up the ranks as a firefighter as an adult. I’d been told a few times I wasn’t bad looking, so I enjoyed sowing my wild oats with the ladies, never once wanting to settle down. One oat went a little too wild, but that was a story for another day. “We’re almost there, E-bug.” I glanced in the mirror to see her bopping her dark head of curls to the country song playing through the speakers. By five-year-old standards, my daughter was adorable. I’d taken one look at her on my doorstep six months ago and nearly had a heart attack. After the initial shock of her existence wore off, I’d fallen on my ass yet again, this time straight up in love with the girl. The front wheel of the truck hit a pothole as I made a sharp left onto a dirt road. Meatball slid to the floorboard in a heap of trash from our fast-food lunch. Elise let out a squeal of excitement, all four of her limbs raised in the air, dancing about. The silver Airstream trailer I’d bought for a song and a whistle from a guy too old to use it any longer was waiting for us at the end of the drive. She gleamed something pretty in the dying sunlight. “Home sweet home,” I muttered, bouncing up the last bit of driveway to our new home. I’d taken every single penny of my disability check and bought five acres of land in Blueball, California, a small town on the edge of the Pacific Ocean, tucked into the pine trees like a well-kept secret. Bain Sutter, an old friend from my high school days, had suggested the town to me when I called, looking for advice about my new business adventure. I didn’t normally ask for advice, so when I finally asked, you bet your ass I listened. Dad thought I’d lost my mind and told me so every chance he got, but considering how much he helped out after my accident, I couldn’t tell him to shove it. I’d swallowed down the criticism, determined as ever to make this new venture work. “Uh-oh,” Elise singsonged from her seat. “What?” I spun around and got a mouth full of Meatball’s tongue. The damn thing managed to french me yet again. Sadly, I’d gotten more action from the dog than I had a warm-blooded woman the last six months. “Down, Meatball!” “I have to pee,