Page 28 of The Bear's Matchmaking Mix-up Mate
“Are you out there?” she whispered, the words escaping before she could catch them.
The bear roared again, closer this time, its voice rising and falling in what almost sounded like an answer. Wren pressed ahand to her chest, feeling the wild pounding beneath her palm. Something about that roar felt familiar, as if it carried Finn’s voice, his essence.
She laughed softly at herself. Romantic nonsense, surely. And yet...
“I hear you,” she murmured, leaning against the porch post.
The bourbon sat forgotten as Wren stared into the shadows, wondering if Finn was somewhere out there, too, walking beneath the same stars, feeling the same connection that hummed in her blood. She closed her eyes, letting the night sounds wash over her, imagining him moving through the forest, strong and sure-footed.
When she opened her eyes again, she caught a flash of movement at the edge of the clearing, something large shifting between the trees. Her breath caught in her throat as moonlight glinted off what might have been eyes, watching her from the darkness.
For one suspended moment, the world narrowed to just that gaze and hers. Then whatever it was—bear or shadow or wishful thinking—melted back into the forest, leaving only the rustling of leaves in its wake.
Wren shivered, but not from the cold. She gathered her bourbon and stepped back toward the door, pausing for one last look at the tree line.
“Goodnight,” she whispered to the forest, to the bears, to Finn…wherever he might be.
Inside the cottage, she locked the door behind her, though she felt no fear. The encounter had left her buzzing with a strange energy, as if she’d glimpsed something magical and rare. Much like true love.
Chapter Eleven – Finn
Finn woke and stretched as images of Wren filled his head. Ever since he’d met her, she was the last thing he thought about at night and the first thing on his mind in the morning.
And he would not have it any other way.
His bear chuckled.She also occupies our thoughts for most of the hours in between.
That she does,Finn agreed as he pulled back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
As he dressed, he hummed to himself, the same tune Wren had been humming yesterday. The same tune she had finished writing last night.
How did he know?
Because last night, his bear had paced the tree line beyond Rowan Cottage for hours, soaking in every note as Wren fleshed out the song. A song filled with such longing and hope that it had taken every ounce of discipline not to shift into his human form and go to her.
Then, when the song was done, he’d been blessed with the sight of her standing on the porch, a glass of bourbon in hand and starlight in her hair.
It had made his chest ache with a sweet, painful need to be with her, to hold her, to kiss her. To claim her.
So what now?his bear grumbled, already restless despite the early hour.Shall we go to her? Tell her everything?
Finn sighed, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. That was exactly what he wanted to do. But he knew in his heart, in his soul, that they needed to give her time.
Patience. We can’t rush this,Finn told his bear.She pushed us away, remember. So we need to let her come to us.
Patience,his bear scoffed.We’ve waited years. I don’t want to wait another minute.
Finn grinned, shaking his head as he reached for his phone.Easy, Romeo. It’s not just about us.
His thumb hovered over the screen, nerves jangling. The urge to text her, to see her again, was almost painful in its intensity. But what would he say? ‘Good morning, I’m the bear you heard last night, and by the way, you’re my destined mate?’
That would be a good start,his bear replied.
Which might lead to a bad end.Finn stared at his phone screen, trying to figure out his next move.
Just invite her to the vineyard,his bear suggested, a note of impatience threading through his voice.Simple. Direct. No pressure.
Good idea.Finn nodded, typing out a message before he could overthink it.
