Page 13 of The Bear's Matchmaking Mix-up Mate
Wren stiffened, her fork pausing halfway to her mouth. Here it came—the ask. The moment when she’d become useful to him, when her name and talent would eclipse whatever genuine connection they might have been building.
But Finn just continued talking about the project, his enthusiasm infectious as he described the impact it would have on the community. Then he set the notebook aside and refilled her coffee cup before sitting down across from her once more.
“Sorry,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. “I get carried away talking about this stuff.”
“No, it’s...” Wren searched for the right word. “Nice. The way you care about it.”
Finn’s cheeks colored slightly. “My family’s been in Bear Creek forever. This place, these people, they matter to me.”
The way he spoke about his family, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he described his mother’s legendary Sunday dinners and his father’s quiet wisdom, made something ache inside Wren’s chest. It had been so long since she’d felt part of something real, something that couldn’t be bought or sold or exploited.
She wanted to know his family stories, to sit around their table, to belong. She ached for it in her bones.
“The vineyard sounds beautiful. I’d love to see it sometime.” The words slipped out before she could overthink, and she felt her heart race at her own impulsiveness.
Finn’s face brightened. “Really? I could give you a tour. There’s this spot on the eastern ridge where you can see the whole valley. It’s incredible at sunset.”
Had she really just invited herself over to the vineyard? She was supposed to be keeping a low profile.
Noticing her hesitation, he added quickly, “It would just be us. You wouldn’t have to meet my family if you’re not comfortable with that. Private tour.”
Wren felt the familiar tension return, the instinct to protect herself from new connections, new vulnerabilities. But as she looked at Finn, she found herself wanting more, not less.
“That would be wonderful,” she said, surprised by how much she meant it.
“I’ll set it up,” Finn said. “I’ll figure out a time when there won’t be many people around. I think I heard my brothers are attending a winemaker’s conference this week, so that might be ideal.”
However, as they finished their breakfast, Wren realized with a start that she wasn’t sure a private tour was what she wanted anymore. The way Finn described his family, with their laughter, their teasing, and their unconditional support, made her want to know them. To be part of that world, if only for a little while.
The more time she spent with Finn, the more she felt something awakening inside her, something she’d thought was lost for good. Not just music, but the courage to be herself. To belong.
Here in Bear Creek, with this man who looked at her and saw past the fame to the person underneath, Wren felt the first tentative notes of a new song taking shape in her head. And in her heart.
Chapter Five – Finn
His mate was here, in his kitchen, and Finn couldn’t stop stealing glances at her. Maybe because it was still hard to believe after waiting so long to meet her, a part of him was still afraid he’d dreamed her into existence.
No, she is real,his bear said happily as Wren absently tapped her foot against the tiled floor. A soft, unconscious hum occasionally slipped from her lips, fragments of melody that touched him in a way music never had before.
Perhaps we’ve inspired her,his bear rumbled with satisfaction.We unlocked the music within her.
And she’d unlocked something in him, too. A deep contentment, a happiness like he’d never experienced before.
Then let’s tell her the truth, right here, right now,his bear suggested.
Not yet,Finn replied, afraid to ruin what they had. If she freaked out and ran, he might lose her forever. And that was unthinkable.
His bear rumbled reluctantly in agreement as Finn busied himself with washing the breakfast dishes, afraid that if he stared directly at her, the spell might break.
“I like the tune,” he said, risking a glance over his shoulder.
“Tune?” She looked at him, bewildered.
“The tune you’re humming,” he said.
Wren’s fingers immediately flew to her lips, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “Was I? Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s nice.” He dried his hands on a dish towel. “Is it new?”
