Page 4 of The Bear's Blooming Mate

Elsbeth wiped the sweat from her forehead as she looked out over the fields which, if all went well, would soon become a sea of blooms.

Her stomach was knotted with what was now a familiar mix of anxiety and excitement. She’d sunk every penny of her savings into buying the Old Larson place. And then some.

Drawn by its sprawling acreage and the rich, dark soil hidden beneath a thick covering of weeds, she’d taken a gamble and bought the place.

The realtor had called it “fixer-upper charm” when showing her the weathered farmhouse with its peeling blue paint and creaking porch steps. Elsbeth called it “barely habitable,” but it was hers. All hers. And that thought alone made the knot in her stomach loosen just a little.

Elsbeth glanced down at the dog-eared sketchpad in her hand. The pages were filled with notes, rough designs, and hopeful ideas that had taken root long before she’d even seen the place. Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind:Don’t let your dreams slip away.

“I don’t intend to, Mom,” she murmured under her breath.

As the wild grass rustled in the breeze, it was as if her mom was right there with her, her words of encouragement carried on the wind. Elsbeth inhaled deeply, taking in the earthy scent of her land—herland—and closed her eyes for a moment.

If only.Tears pricked her eyes. How many times had she said those two words over the last year?

And what had she learned? That life didn’t care forif onlys. That sometimes, you had to grip opportunity with both hands even when your heart was still healing.

Andif onlysdidn’t plant seeds or fix roofs or make dreams come true. Action did.

Her gaze drifted away from the field of weeds to where an old barn stood. It was a beautiful building, solid and weathered, and soon to become her new workspace. She’d spent the last few days cleaning out cobwebs, replacing broken panes, and imagining the freshly cut flowers she’d grow in the weed-infested field arranged on the wide plank table she planned to build. She could already picture the bundles of lavender hanging from the rafters, the buckets of dahlias and cosmos lining the walls, the sweet scent of stock and snapdragons filling the air.

The fragrance would be as remarkable as the bright hues of the petals.

As she dreamed her dreams, her phone buzzed in her pocket. Elsbeth pulled it out and tapped the screen to turn off the alarm she’d set. 3:50PM, Finn Thornberg would be here soon to help solidify her plans.

He’d been recommended by the realtor as a friendly and reliable landscape architect. When Elsbeth had done a little background research on him, she’d learned his family owned a very successful local vineyard, so he should have some experience in what she was trying to achieve here.

Hopefully. There was a chance Finn hated plants, and that was why he’d chosen his career path rather than following in the family tradition of winemaking.

However, when she’d spoken to him on the phone to arrange a meeting, he’d seemed enthusiastic and knowledgeable. He’d asked pointed questions about drainage and soil quality that had impressed her.

She checked the time again and headed back toward the house. As she rounded the corner, she spotted a sleek blue pickup truck making its way up her long, rutted driveway. Dust billowed behind it, catching the golden late afternoon light.

Right on time. Always a good sign.

The knot in her stomach tightened again, and Elsbeth hastily tucked her sketchpad under her arm and ran a hand through her wind-tousled hair. First impressions mattered, even if this was just a professional consultation. She straightened her shoulders and walked to meet the vehicle as it pulled to a stop next to the porch.

But as the man stepped out of the truck, the knot in her stomach unraveled, replaced by the flutter of butterflies. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair that curled slightly at the nape of his neck. He wore work boots, jeans, and a chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing sun-bronzed forearms.

He looked…nothing like she’d imagined. Not that she had a clear picture of Finn in her head. It was just that his voice over the phone had sounded a bit more…well, architect than farmer. This man looked like he’d been out wrangling the land, not drafting plans.

Still, he smiled, a little distractedly, and offered a nod as he stood, feet hip-width apart, and studied her.

“Hi,” Elsbeth said, trying to brush off her moment of surprise. “Thanks for coming. I’ve been really looking forward to getting your input on my plans.”

The man blinked, just once, then nodded again. “Sure.”

Although he didn’t exactly sound sure. She chalked it up to unfamiliar surroundings and gestured toward the fields. “I thought I’d walk you through the place and show you what I’m thinking.” She held up her sketchbook. “I know it’s still rough, but I’ve mapped out the beds.”

He followed her as she led him along the outer edge of the future farm.Herfuture farm.

Excitement bubbled up inside her. As if she had suddenly tapped into a wellspring of enthusiasm that had been buried beneath all her anxieties.

There was something about Finn that made her buzz like a bee on a particularly sweet blossom. Maybe it was the way he studied everything with such intensity, his dark eyes missing nothing as they swept across her property. Although they landed on her more often than she’d expected, sending little shivers of awareness down her spine.

She launched into her vision without hesitation. It was easy to talk about the land, the plans, the future. Easy to fill the silence. “I’m focusing mostly on heirloom varieties, dahlias, cosmos, snapdragons. And roses. Oh, and I’ve got a spot for tulips next year, and a section for drying flowers, too. I’d love to build a seating area under the oak tree, maybe a pergola with climbing roses. But I’m not quite sure about the slope here. I don’t want rainwater pooling in the wrong place.”

She paused beside a rough patch where the earth dipped slightly and turned to him, expecting a professional opinion.

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