Goldie and the Bears

Ash Goldenlochs hasn't touched another person in years. Her gift—or curse, as she thinks of it—forces her to experience the past of anything against her hands. When she meets two of the most gorgeous men she's ever seen, she wants to rip her gloves off and let her fingers do the walking.

Bear shifters, Spencer Hartz and Chaz Coco, are partners in a trio who couldn't be more opposite. When their coworker is murdered, they will take help in any form, including a cute blonde who happens to be their mate.

Using her ability, she sees the murderer but doesn't know who it is. When the killer recognizes her, her tragic past may repeat itself and it's all the guys can do to keep her alive.

Reader's Note: You've never read this version of Goldielocks before!

One

Ash Goldenlochs pulled into the gas station and let out a heaving sigh. Her car was on fumes, and with her luck, it would’ve died in the middle of the street in morning rush hour. Eyes scanning the line of pumps, she saw every island had cars on each side.

“Shit.” Ash glanced at her watch. Quarter till nine. She couldn’t afford to be late this morning. She didn’t want to give her bosses any reason to lay her off. Times being what they were, the company was tightening its belt to keep the doors open. 

She’d been an assistant accountant for five years at a ma and pa shop. She could’ve easily done the head accountant’s work, but she loved what she did, and where she did it, and sometimes, that was more important than the number of zeros on the paycheck. But with her car approaching its seventh birthday, rent going up more, and the price of food, those zeros were becoming more important. 

Parked just inside the parking lot’s entrance, waiting for a customer to leave, she watched a lithe blonde in spiked heels sashay from the gas station’s garage toward a man by a red Corvette at the last pump. How the woman didn’t trip in those damn things was beyond her. Not to mention who in the hell wears Fuck Me shoes and a tight dress at eight thirty in the morning?

The man and woman spoke, the woman leaning into him, flashing her cleavage. Maybe they were a couple and not strangers like she thought. Then again, maybe it was the new thing to pick up johns at the local mechanic’s shop.

Besides, Ash couldn’t blame the woman. The man was simply breathtakingly gorgeous. Tall and very muscular under his button-down white shirt and tie, his ass filled out the back of his pants quite nicely.

The blonde bounced around the back of the car and slid into the passenger’s seat. He set the gas nozzle back into the machine, closed his tank, and joined the woman. Ash shifted her car into drive to take his spot before someone else snuck up and pulled in. 

The red Corvette peeled out. Ash rolled her eyes at how men did such stupid ass things when a woman was paying attention to them. As she pulled forward, a black pickup with dark windows was zipping toward her spot. Oh no, you don’t, jerk. It’s mine.

Pressing the pedal a bit harder than she normally would, she grabbed the tank for herself. But the truck kept coming. What did he think he was going to do? Push her out of the way? Looking at his big ass tires and her little Honda, Ash thought that might be possible. With white knuckles wrapped around the steering wheel, she dropped her other hand onto the gear selector. In a game of chicken, she’d give this time.

The tint on the truck’s glass kept the driver hidden. Did he see her? How could someone miss a whole car that wasn’t even moving in the bright morning sun? Then the black vehicle of approaching death jerked to the side, out of her path, and raced out the same exit as the sports car before it. 

She should’ve stayed in bed today. Her stomach had been in knots when she woke earlier, enough that she didn’t eat her normal bowl of tree bark cleverly disguised as fiber cereal.

From her past, she knew not to ignore that sourness in her belly. It always meant something not good was going to happen. 

Ash pulled open the console between the front seats and pulled out a clear, disposable, vinyl glove from the box of fifty. After snapping it on, she dug for a second but found the box empty. What? How could an even amount come out on an odd number? Shit.

She opened the glove compartment, pushing around a bunch of crap, hoping to find a spare glove. Nothing. Shit. Becoming frantic, Ash pillaged her purse where she normally kept a hidden pair. 

The pocket was empty. Fuck. Admitting defeat, she realized she’d have to put gas in her car with one safely covered hand.

Standing before the filling station, she made her selection touching each button with the vinyl protection. The gas hose hanging from the top of the pump was twisted and she had to fight with the damn thing, one handed, to get it from its cradle into her tank. 

She sighed with relief as the smelly liquid fed her car. When the handle popped, she pulled back and the wonky nozzle line slapped against her head.

She grabbed it with her bare hand, and her world flashed to white.