Page 1 of The Bear's Mail Order Mate

Chapter One – Kris

Kris Thornberg took a sip of his latest wine blend, allowing the liquid to linger on his palate before swallowing. He frowned slightly, detecting a subtle imbalance that nagged at his well-honed senses. It was close, but the flavors were still not working in harmony.

Finding the perfect blend seems to be as elusive as finding our mate,his bear grumbled.

Ignoring his bear’s comment, Kris swirled the dark liquid slowly in the glass. Too much bite, he decided, scribbling a note in his battered spiral notebook.

Maybe we could take a break and join the others,his bear suggested hopefully.

Too late.Kris looked up as he sensed his brothers returning to the vineyard after their nighttime run across the mountains.

We should have gone with them,his bear grumbled in the back of his mind.

I wanted to get this new blend perfected,Kris countered, taking another sip of wine as he tried to figure out what it was missing.

All work and no play makes Kris a dull boy,his bear replied.Maybe that includes your senses. If you got out a bit more, you might feel refreshed.

Next time,Kris promised as he methodically recorded his observations and reached for some dried cranberries from a small wooden bowl beside him. The chewy tartness contrasted sharply with the wine, sparking a new idea he hoped would lead to the missing note.

“Still torturing your taste buds, I see.” Philip’s voice came from the doorway as he entered the building where Kris worked his magic. Kris might have been struggling with this particular blend, but he had earned a reputation for producing exceptional wines that perfectly captured the essence of Thornberg Vineyard’s unique terroir.

“Just trying to get this new red blend right,” Kris replied, not looking up from his notebook. “Something’s off, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“Maybe you’re overthinking it,” Philip said, reaching for an empty glass. “Mind if I try?”

Kris slid the bottle across the wooden table. “Be my guest. Maybe a fresh palate will catch what I’m missing.”

As Philip grabbed a clean glass from the shelf and poured himself a taste, Stanley and Alfie loitered in the doorway, whispering. Kris watched as his brother swirled the red liquid around and then lowered his head to inhale the aroma before taking a generous sip.

“Well?” Kris asked with barely masked impatience.

Philip’s eyebrows rose slightly as he savored the wine. “Hmm,” he murmured, taking another thoughtful sip before setting the glass down. “It’s good. Superb, actually, as always. But I see what you mean. There’s something…missing.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying for the last three hours,” Kris said, running a hand through his hair.

It feels like three days,his bear grumbled.

More like three weeks,Kris replied. A faint tension tugged at his temples. He’d been hunched over these notes since midday, and the strain was beginning to tell.

Stanley pushed off from the doorframe and ambled into the tasting room. “Let me try. I might not know wines like you two, but I know what I like.”

“Since when did running a pet store qualify you as a wine expert?” Alfie called from behind him, following his brother inside while Nero hovered in the shadows.

“Since I serve the most discerning customers in Bear Creek,” Stanley replied with a grin. “Mrs. Winters’ poodle won’t eat anything but the finest organic treats. If that’s not sophistication, I don’t know what is.”

Kris shook his head but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at his lips. Stanley’s irreverent humor often lightened the tension in the winery, and Kris appreciated it more than he let on. It helped that Stanley was not as emotionally invested in the wines in the same way as Kris or Philip.

“Here.” Kris poured a sample for Stanley, who approached tasting wine with the same enthusiastic lack of technique he applied to most things in life.

“It needs…” Stanley took another sip, his expression comically serious. “Hmm. Something earthy. Like the smell after rain.”

Kris paused, considering. “Petrichor.”

“Petri-what?” Alfie asked, helping himself to a glass.

“Petrichor,” Nero said as he came to join them. “The smell of earth after rain.”

Kris nodded, suddenly thoughtful. “You might be onto something, Stan. Maybe a touch more of the Cabernet Franc from the north slope. It has more mineral notes from our rocky soil.”

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