Page 45 of The Bear's Blooming Mate

“I like them, too.” She paused, gathering courage. “I can see where you get your kindness from.”

Philip’s hand tightened almost imperceptibly around hers. “They’ve taught me everything I know about growing things. About patience.” He looked down at her, his eyes intense. “About waiting for the right moment.”

Something in his tone made her pulse quicken. There was a weight to his words, as if he were trying to tell her something more.

They crested a small rise, and Philip stopped. Before them, the vineyard spread out in all directions, the mountains rising majestically in the distance. A rustic wooden bench sat facing the view, weathered by years of sun and rain.

“This is it,” Philip said, leading her to the bench. “My favorite spot. I like to come here and simply sit and look out across the vineyard.”

“I can see why,” Elsbeth said as he led her closer to the bench.

They sat down on the bench together, their shoulders touching. The simple contact sent warmth cascading through Elsbeth’s body. She couldn’t imagine a more perfect end to the evening.

Well, perhaps one thing could make it more perfect.

She glanced at Philip, wondering if he might kiss her. Her heart fluttered at the thought, but he was staring at the vines, his expression distant, as though his mind had traveled somewhere far away. The connection she’d felt so strongly moments ago seemed to have dimmed.

Maybe she’d misread everything. Maybe this was just friendship after all.

Philip blinked suddenly and drew a deep breath, as if returning to himself. He squeezed her hand gently and half-turned toward her, his eyes intense with something unspoken.

Elsbeth’s pulse quickened. There was clearly something he wanted to tell her. She could see it in the way he held himself, in the slight furrow of his brow. But a flicker of anxiety rose in her chest. What if his secret changed everything between them? What if it ruined this beautiful connection they’d built?

She didn’t want that. Even if tonight was all they ever had, she wanted to preserve it as something perfect and untarnished.

“So, this is where the grapes grow,” she said, breaking the silence, “but where does the magic happen that changes them into wine?”

Philip hesitated, his expression unreadable. His mouth opened as if to speak, then closed again. Whatever he’d been about to say remained unsaid as he stood and gently pulled her to her feet.

“This way,” he said, his voice slightly rough.

Elsbeth knew immediately she’d broken the moment. Whatever he’d wanted to share would remain his secret for now. Part of her felt guilty for not giving him the space to open up, but another part felt relieved.

Her mind flashed back to that terrible day in her mother’s kitchen, the moment when her mom had sat her down and said those words that had changed everything: “I have cancer.” How many times had she replayed that scene, wishing she could somehow change the script, alter the ending?

What if Philip’s news was something she could never unhear? Never unknow? Not that anything could be as devastating as learning her mother was sick, but still...

“The winery is just down this path,” Philip said, leading her through the vines. His hand remained firmly clasped around hers, warm and reassuring. “My brother Kris is the real expert, but I know my way around the tasting barrels.”

As they walked, the tension between them gradually eased. Elsbeth found herself relaxing into the moment once more, appreciating the beauty surrounding them. Fireflies had begun to appear, tiny pinpricks of light dancing between the vines.

“It’s magical,” she whispered.

Philip looked down at her, his expression softening. “It is one of my favorite times of the day. There’s a hush that settles over the place.”

They stopped walking and turned to look out across the vines. It truly was magical. And so was the man beside her.

Watching his profile in the fading light, Elsbeth realized she’d been unfair. If he had something he wanted to say, she should let him say it. She owed him that much. And it wasn’t as if it was necessarily going to be bad news. She often forgot that there were good things in the world, too, that people had good news to share.

“Philip,” she turned to him and placed her hand on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart, so steady, so strong, like Philip himself. He looked down at her, his eyes lingering on her lips, the moment suspended between them like honey dripping from a spoon.

But then the sound of voices broke the silence.

“Kris and Cassia,” he said, and held up a hand and waved.

Elsbeth turned, cursing herself for not letting Philip speak before. Two figures emerged from between the rows of vines, walking hand in hand toward them.

“Hey there, Philip,” Kris called as he walked. “We were just finishing up for the evening.”

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