Page 20 of The Bear's Blooming Mate

“Springs typically follow the natural contours of the land,” he explained, moving to stand beside her. “They’re drawn to low points, but they originate from higher ground.”

“Makes sense.” Elsbeth was acutely aware of how close Philip was to her.

His finger traced the topographical lines, his touch deliberate and sure. “If I were a spring, I’d be somewhere...here.” He tapped a spot near the eastern boundary where the property dipped into a gentle hollow.

“Great. Let’s go take a look,” Elsbeth said, folding up the map.

“Okay.” Philip smiled, a gentle curve of his lips that made her stomach flutter. “Let’s go.”

They set off across the field, walking side by side through the tall grass. Wildflowers nodded in the breeze around them, and Elsbeth found herself stealing glances at Philip’s profile as he walked with quiet confidence.

“You seem to know a lot about water,” she ventured.

“Water is life,” he replied simply. “Especially when you’re growing things.”

“Is that why you work with the vines? Because you like to help things grow?” she asked as they walked through the field of wildflowers.

Philip’s pace slowed slightly. “Partly. There’s something about helping things grow that gets under your skin. And your fingernails…” He glanced at her. “I imagine you understand that.”

She did. Deeply. “I inherited it from my mom.”

“Your mom taught you well,” Philip said as they went through a gate at the top of the field and headed toward a stand of trees. “She must be a wise woman.”

“She was.” The words caught in Elsbeth’s throat.

Philip stopped walking, turning to face her fully. “Was?”

Elsbeth nodded, unable to meet his eyes. “Cancer. Last year.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, as if he could feel her sorrow.

“That’s why I’m here,” Elsbeth admitted, surprised at herself for sharing something so personal. “She knew I always dreamed of owning a flower farm, but life got in the way. When she got sick, I promised her I’d make it happen.”

Philip was quiet for a moment. “This is a beautiful tribute to your mom.”

“If I can pull it off,” she said with a nervous laugh.

“You will,” he said with such certainty that she believed it, too. It was as if his confidence and encouragement gave her courage.

“I will if we can find this spring,” she said lightly. The last thing she wanted was to burst into tears in front of Philip.

“Then we’d better find it,” Philip said, nodding toward the rise ahead of them. “I think our best bet is to head up there first.”

As they climbed higher, the land began to slope upward more steeply. The wild grasses gave way to rockier terrain, dotted with clusters of pine and aspen. Philip moved with sure-footed confidence, occasionally pausing to examine the ground or a particular formation of rocks.

Elsbeth breathed harder as they ascended, but the exertion felt good, purposeful. When they reached a small clearing, she turned back to look at her farm spread out below them.

“Great view, huh?” Philip asked, coming to stand beside her.

“Sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming,” she admitted, taking in the patchwork of fields, the weathered barn, and the farmhouse with its faded blue paint.

“Me, too,” he said, and gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher. One so intense and meaningful that it made her heart stutter strangely in her chest.

“Listen!” He suddenly held up his finger, his head tilted slightly.

Elsbeth strained her ears. “I don’t hear anything other than the breeze through the trees.”

“Come on.” He held out his hand to her, and she took it without hesitation, his warm palm engulfing hers.

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