Page 2 of The Bear's Matchmaking Mix-up Mate
Finn blinked, momentarily stunned by the intense hostility radiating from the woman before him.
Say something,his bear said.Tell her we are exactly where we are meant to be.
“I’m Finn Thornberg,” he managed, his voice steadier than he expected. “I’m here for the landscaping consultation?”
The woman’s posture tightened further. She angled her body to block more of the doorway, her knuckles white where they gripped the edge of the door.
“You’ve made a mistake,” she said, already beginning to close the door.
“But the address...” Finn fumbled with his portfolio, pulling out the work order. “Rose Cottage, Pine Ridge Road. That’s here, right?”
“No,” she shook her head. “This isRowanCottage.”
“Rowan…” Finn sucked in a breath. He’d made his own matchmaking mix-up, and it had led him right to the door of his mate.
Who is going to slam said door in your face if you don’t act fast,his bear said.
Finn opened his mouth to explain, but then he sensed it: someone else approaching along the mountain road. “Are you expecting someone?”
“No,” his mate said, looking past him with growing anxiety.
“It’s okay.” He took a protective step toward her.
“I don’t hear anything or see anyone,” she said, suspicion growing in her voice.
“It’s…” He pushed out his shifter senses. “Mrs. Abernathy…”
What’s she doing here?his bear asked with a sinking feeling that the situation was about to get much worse.
Yeah, Mrs. Abernathy. Of all people. The name alone conjured memories of detention slips and disappointed frowns. Mrs. Abernathy had taught history at Bear Creek High for thirty years, and while she’d adored most of his siblings, Finn had never quite measured up in her classroom. She’d had a particular talent for calling on him precisely when his mind wandered to the forest beyond the classroom windows.
“She’s my godmother,” his mate said, her voice still guarded but marginally softer.
Her godmother,Finn’s bear repeated with a gulp.
Mrs. Abernathy’s car appeared around the bend, and Finn could almost feel her eyes on him as she parked her car next to Finn’s truck. He held his breath as his old teacher cracked open the door and climbed out, a canvas tote swinging from her elbow. Her hair might have a few more silver streaks, but her posture was still as straight as a ruler. Her sharp eyes flickered between them, suspicion evident in the slight raise of her eyebrows.
“Finn Thornberg,” she said, her tone measured as she approached. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Mrs. Abernathy,” he nodded, suddenly feeling fourteen again, caught passing notes in class.
She studied him for a long moment, then her gaze shifted to her goddaughter, and something in her expression changed. Understanding dawned as if she could see the invisible thread that connected them, pulling taut with each passing second.
“Wren,” Mrs. Abernathy said, her voice gentling as she approached the door. “I see you’ve met Finn. He’s one of the Thornberg boys.”
Wren.His bear savored the name.
It tastes as sweet as honey,Finn swooned.
“Finn is one of my former students,” Mrs. Abernathy went on as she walked toward Rowan Cottage. “Although history was not one of his strongest subjects.”
Finn felt heat creep up his neck. “No, ma’am. I was more interested in what grew outside the classroom than what happened centuries ago.”
A ghost of a smile touched Mrs. Abernathy’s lips. “And now you shape the earth for a living. I guess you always knew where your heart lay.”
It lies right here, now,his bear said dreamily.At our mate’s feet.
“He says he’s come to the wrong address,” Wren said, still clutching the door like a shield.
