Page 9 of The Bear's Blooming Mate

A spring? Philip’s interest was piqued immediately. His bear stirred with excitement, too.

“If we can find that spring,” Philip said, his voice taking on a quiet intensity, “it could change everything for your irrigation plans.”

Elsbeth tilted her head, studying him with such intensity it made his heart stutter. “How do we find it?”

We,his bear said, practically swooning.

“It shouldn’t be too hard,” Philip assured her. “And it would be worth the effort. The spring that feeds the vineyard is what helps to make our wines so successful.”

Finn nodded. “It’s true.” His phone buzzed loudly in his pocket. “Excuse me.”

“No problem,” Elsbeth said as she wrapped her arms around herself and stared out across the fields.

“I need to take this,” he said, and turned back toward the house, already answering the call.

Philip and Elsbeth were left alone, and for a moment the silence stretched out awkwardly between them.

Say something,his bear told him.

Like what?Philip asked.

Anything,his bear replied.

“You made a good choice,” he said, nodding toward the land. “It’s good ground. It’ll give back to you if you give it time.”

Elsbeth smiled faintly. “I hope so. It’s scary sometimes. Starting over.”

He understood that. Deeply.

“Nothing worth doing isn’t a little scary,” he said. “You’re brave for trying.”

Their eyes locked, and something heavy, sweet, and unspoken passed between them.

Philip shifted first, bending down to brush the tops of some nearby wildflowers.

“These,” he said, “are bachelor’s buttons.”

You should pick one and put it in your buttonhole,Philip’s bear said.

I don’t have a buttonhole,Philip told his bear.

“Cornflowers,” Elsbeth crouched beside him, running her fingers through the blue petals. “I’ve never heard them called bachelor’s buttons before.” Her fingers were so close to his, he could feel the warmth radiating from her skin.

He turned his hand slightly, brushing against hers. It was barely a touch. But it lit every nerve ending in his body on fire.

She didn’t pull away.

“It’s an old folk tale,” Philip murmured, barely trusting himself to speak. “It’s said that if a bachelor picks a flower and puts it in his buttonhole and it stays fresh throughout the day, the love he seeks is returned.”

Elsbeth’s eyes widened slightly, her fingers still hovering near his. “And if it wilts?”

“Then he must keep looking,” Philip said, not daring to look at her in case he gave himself away. In case she could see the longing in his eyes.

“I wonder if it works for flower farmers, too,” she said with a small smile, breaking the tension.

Philip chuckled. “I suppose you could test the theory.”

It would last for eternity, like our love,his bear said happily.

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