Page 3 of Fire Bear (Return To Fate Mountain #1)
Chapter
Three
Eliana Hampton crossed the orchard’s main yard and paused to admire her family’s legacy of heirloom apple trees. Inhaling deeply, she filled her lungs with crisp morning air. In her hand was a worn leather notebook. Every morning, she methodically checked the orchard’s soil moisture, leaf condition, and fruit development.
Pacing down the first row, she crouched near a tree root and pressed her fingers into the soil. Not too dry, not overly damp. Perfect for this stage of the season. She jotted a note in her book: “Row A2 soil moisture: good. Light mulching recommended next week.” Then she rose and moved on, passing clusters of wildflowers that danced in the gentle breeze.
As she neared the second row, she paused to inspect a few leaves that showed the faintest hint of yellowing, possibly a minor nutrient deficiency. Another note went into her book. She would add a balanced, organic fertilizer next week if necessary. She patted the tree’s trunk as though offering encouragement.
Up ahead, her nineteen-year-old apprentice Mateo stood on tiptoe, staring intently at a cluster of apple blossoms. He was tall and lanky, with an untamed mop of dark hair. When Eliana approached, he turned, practically beaming.
“Morning, Ms. Hampton,” he said, voice filled with excitement. “I was examining these blossoms. Look how this cluster developed late. Is this the heirloom variety you said might bloom off-schedule?”
She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You are correct. That’s a variety I grafted from a very old line. It doesn’t follow the orchard’s usual timeline.”
Mateo ran a finger gently under a soft pink bloom. “Will that affect the harvest date?”
Eliana jotted another note in her book and answered: “It will be ready to harvest deeper into autumn. Patience is key, Mateo. We have to gather data across multiple seasons to truly know a variety.”
He nodded. “I can’t believe how many different strains you grow here. I know bigger farms prefer mainstream apple types, but this orchard is like a living library of lost varieties.”
She felt a swell of warmth at his words. “That’s exactly what we aim for. My grandparents fought to preserve these heirloom apples. Some date back centuries, each one with its own unique taste, texture, and resilience to pests or weather.”
Mateo’s eyes sparkled. “I want to help more once the festival is over. Maybe catalog them with pictures, create a digital record. I’m good with computers.”
Eliana found herself nodding. “That would be wonderful. We can talk about it next week.”
He gave a thumbs-up and moved on to inspect another row. She exhaled, smiling at his enthusiasm. Mentoring him reminded her of how her grandparents had once guided her. She only hoped to pass on the orchard’s legacy as thoroughly as they had.
They strolled together toward the orchard’s festival area, a cleared section ringed by mature apple trees. A row of tables stood under canvas canopies, partially set up for cider tastings. Another small stage had been erected for music and demonstrations.
Eliana planned to give several demonstrations, tutorials, and Q&A sessions. She picked up a clipboard with the festival schedule: a grid of vendor assignments and volunteer shift lists.
“Looks like we’ll have around a dozen local vendors,” Eliana noted, scanning her papers. “Artisanal cheeses, honey, baked goods, and crafts.”
Mateo’s face lit up. “That’s going to draw a good crowd. Didn’t last year’s festival get swamped by tourists?”
She chuckled, remembering the rush. “Yes, so we expanded. The orchard has earned a reputation. We’re expecting maybe double the turnout this year.”
He whistled softly. “We’ll be busy. I’ll help wherever needed.”
Eliana gently tapped her pen on the clipboard. “Thank you. I appreciate your willingness.” Her gaze swept the festival grounds. Workers hammered a sign into the ground: “Heirloom Apple Festival This Weekend!” The orchard buzzed with excitement.
Eliana called out directions to her crew: “Remember to keep the booths spaced out so lines don’t overlap. And we need to finalize the demonstration schedule by tomorrow evening.”
Several orchard staffers nodded, hustling about with tarps and folding tables. A few volunteers tested a small speaker system. Despite the early hour, anticipation for the weekend soared. Eliana’s chest swelled with both pride and nerves. Eliana’s orchard manager, Talia Morgan, emerged from the cider barn.
“Talia,” Eliana greeted. “How’s the festival supply inventory looking?”
“Pretty good.” Her strawberry-blonde hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail. She held a clipboard tight in her hand.
Talia had once owned her own small orchard but joined Eliana’s staff two years ago. After an unfortunate romantic situation with a conman, Talia lost everything. Despite her despair, she quickly became an indispensable employee and a close friend.
“Listen, I wanted to mention something. I just chatted with a neighbor who can see the southern fence line. She said there was a brushfire right near there yesterday.”
Eliana froze. “A brushfire? I never saw the smoke. They must have put it out quickly.”
Talia nodded. “Fire Patrol responded fast. They suspect it was started by a cigarette or a campfire.”
Eliana’s gut twisted. “A cigarette,” she murmured, forcing calm. “Who would be smoking all the way down there? We’ll need to talk to the staff about fire safety during dry conditions.”
“I can take lead on that if you like.”
Eliana sighed, the weight of the festival pressing on her. “Thanks, Talia.” Her friend gave her a supportive pat on the shoulder and strode away.
Eliana walked into the barn, clipboard in hand. The large warehouse structure housed rows of sorting tables, crates of apples, a cider press, and a filling station. The aroma of freshly picked fruit mingled with the scent of cider.
As she stared at the apple crates along the wall, she thought about how tenuous orchard life could be. One unexpected blaze, a stretch of poor weather, or a damaging pest outbreak could unravel years of effort.
“Grandma, Grandpa,” she thought, eyes flicking to a framed photograph over the office door. It showed her as a child clinging to her grandmother’s side, while her grandfather stood behind a wheelbarrow loaded with apples. The orchard was her legacy, left by the grandparents who raised her after her parents passed away. “I’m trying my best to fill your shoes. I just hope I’m strong enough.”
She felt a familiar heaviness in her chest. Could she truly safeguard this land by herself? The orchard had thrived so far under her watch, but it often demanded more than she was sure she could give. She inhaled slowly, recalling how her grandparents overcame storms, financial strains, and orchard blights. They never gave up. She wouldn’t either.
She walked into her office, sat down at her desk, and began to sort through the mail. Bills and advertisements were folded inside a local periodical. She opened it, flipping through pages about local events. The ad she’d taken out was proudly displayed. She smiled, knowing her festival would be a success.
She turned the page and found a full-page advertisement with large bold letters: “MATE.COM: Bringing Shifters and Human Partners Together for True Love!” The images showed happy couples. Some had the animal glint of shifters in their eyes, while others were clearly human.
Eliana felt a twinge in her chest. She’d heard of mate.com, of course. Fate Mountain had a large shifter population. The app had helped countless residents find their fated mates.
She read the ad’s fine print: “It’s time to meet your perfect match! Tired of shallow dating apps? We match on soul-level compatibility. All species welcome. True fated mate guaranteed!”
Something about the words stirred her longing. She’d been single for... well, she couldn’t recall her last serious relationship. Running an orchard demanded all her time and energy, and it often left her isolated.
She studied the ad. The smiling human woman in the photo looked so content in her partner’s arms. An unexpected wave of loneliness curled through her. She rarely allowed herself to feel this way.
Eliana finished her administrative tasks, checked in with the staff, and finalized the festival’s sign-up sheets. But each break brought that faint echo: “It’s time to meet your perfect match… True fated mate guaranteed…”
Her grandparents had had each other. She yearned for a partner she could confide in during tough times and celebrate with during the good, someone who loved the land as much as she did.
By the time she returned to the farmhouse, dusk had painted the sky lavender and orange. She set her clipboard on the kitchen table. Too tired to cook a big meal, she put a frozen pizza in the oven and poured a cup of iced tea.
Her living room welcomed her with framed photos: her grandmother in the orchard holding a basket of apples, her grandfather teaching a younger Eliana how to prune branches.
Sighing, she sank onto the couch, glass of iced tea in hand. The day’s events settled over her thoughts. The orchard festival was shaping up well, but Talia’s mention of the brushfire weighed on her.
She closed her eyes, letting out a deep breath. Her mind drifted back to the advertisement for mate.com she’d seen in the periodical. The longing in her chest refused to be ignored.
She set the glass aside and reached for her laptop. Her heart fluttered with nervous excitement as she typed in the web address. The site loaded, vibrant with images of couples—shifter-human pairs beaming with joy. Was this ridiculous?
She clicked “Sign Up,” reading through disclaimers about how the site specialized in matching shifters and humans. She typed her name: Eliana Hampton, age: 29, occupation: Orchard Owner. She paused at “Species,” but of course she was human.
Next came a series of personality questions: preferences in music, thoughts on the outdoors, how she handled conflict. She answered carefully, wanting to be truthful. Then that silly vegetable question appeared: “If you were a vegetable, what would you be?” She stifled a laugh and chose “Pea.” The quiz reasoned peas were sweet, versatile, and part of a larger support system in the garden. That felt right.
Finally, the site prompted her to add a photo. Eliana scrolled through her laptop’s library, selecting a snapshot from spring: she wore a simple sundress, leaning against an apple tree trunk with orchard blossoms behind her. Her hair was pinned loosely, wind teasing the strands, a grin curving on her lips. The photo captured both her seriousness and warmth.
Hesitating, she hovered over “Submit.” Uncertainty and excitement battled inside her. She could still close the browser and pretend she’d never started. But deep down, she wanted the possibility. Taking a shaky breath, she clicked “Submit.” A progress bar popped up: “Analyzing Your Profile…”
Eliana’s heart pounded. She placed the laptop aside briefly, pressing her palms to her cheeks. The orchard outside was now dark, a blanket of night holding it in a gentle hush. The oven timer went off and she got up to get her pizza.
Fate Mountain’s shifter-human couples swore their mate bond had near-magical intensity. She’d never experienced anything like that, but maybe with a shifter she could.
When Eliana came back to the living room with her dinner plate, a cheerful ping came from the laptop. She picked it up, breath catching in her throat. The screen displayed a list of potential matches, each showing a percentage rating. At the top, shining in bold, “100% Match: Fire Bear.”
For a moment, she couldn’t process it. One hundred percent? The site claimed that meant a true fated mate. Her pulse drummed. She clicked the profile. The photo that popped up made her inhale sharply: a man in a Fire Patrol uniform, standing beside a red brush truck, a faint grin on his rugged face.
His eyes had a confident glint, like a predator certain of his place. The username “Fire Bear” hovered by the photo. He was extremely attractive, broad shoulders, dark hair, a mix of focus and warmth in his posture, and apparently a grizzly shifter. Her heart fluttered.
Reading more: age: 32, loves the outdoors, Chief of Fate Mountain Fire Patrol.
A swirl of emotions seized Eliana. She recalled Talia’s mention that the orchard’s brushfire was handled by the Fire Patrol. Could it have been him? It seemed fate was working to bring them together already.
She wanted to meet him. The orchard festival was coming up, so why not invite him? If fate truly spun their threads together, she might as well open the door.
Hands trembling slightly, she typed: “Hi Fire Bear, I’m Eliana Hampton. My orchard is hosting our annual Heirloom Apple Festival this weekend. I would love for you to come by since we’re both from Fate Mountain. I admire the Fire Patrol’s work around here. If you’re free, drop in. Maybe we can share some fresh cider and chat.”
She hovered over “Send,” nerves crackling through her veins. Then she exhaled and clicked.