Page 22 of Grumpy Bear (Return To Fate Mountain #4)

Chapter

Eighteen

Henry gripped the steering wheel of his weathered truck as he drove up the driveway of Timber Bear Ranch.

The muscles in his jaw tightened with each turn bringing them closer to the sprawling farmhouse.

Family gatherings ranked somewhere between a prostate exam and forest fires on his list of preferred activities.

“The trees here are magnificent.” Ivy leaned forward to gaze through the windshield at the towering pines lining the drive. “Some of these must be hundreds of years old.”

Henry grunted in response, though he found himself secretly pleased by her observation. The ancient pines had stood sentinel over Kincaid land for generations.

“We don’t have to stay long,” Ivy added, correctly interpreting his silence. “Just dinner, then we can head back.”

“It’s not—” Henry started, then paused, struggling to articulate the tangled emotions the approaching farmhouse always triggered. “They’ll talk. Ask questions. Make assumptions.”

“That’s what families do,” she replied with a smile. “It means they care.”

Henry managed a skeptical grunt. As they rounded the final bend, Timber Bear Ranch spread before them in its full glory—the two-story white farmhouse with its broad wraparound porch, the carefully maintained grounds, the distant barns and outbuildings that marked the working portions of the property.

Everything gleamed with the prosperity of generations, a testament to Kincaid perseverance and success.

Henry found himself seeing the place through Ivy’s eyes. Would she find it impressive? Too rustic? Not rustic enough? The unexpected desire for her approval caught him off guard, and he frowned at his own reaction.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, reaching over to touch his arm. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

His bear rumbled with contentment at her approval, though Henry maintained his outward stoicism as he parked beside several other vehicles. He cut the engine but didn’t immediately move to exit, taking a moment to prepare himself for the onslaught of family attention.

“They’ve been asking about you for weeks,” he admitted, staring through the windshield. “Since Holly told Joy, and Joy told everyone else.”

“What did you expect?” Ivy teased with a knowing smile. “My sister and your cousin Joy have been besties since kindergarten.”

Her laugh brightened the cab as she unbuckled her seatbelt. “Come on, Grumpy Bear. I promise to protect you from excessive hugging.”

The front door swung open before they reached the porch steps. Sylvia Kincaid emerged, her silver hair elegantly styled, her smile wide and welcoming. Henry braced himself as his mother descended upon them.

“Oh my God! Ivy Bright!” she exclaimed, enfolding Ivy in an embrace before Henry could mount any defense. “How did we luck out in getting you as our son’s mate? We were beginning to think this one would keep you hidden away forever.”

“Mom,” Henry muttered, accepting his own hug with the stiffness of a man enduring necessary discomfort.

“Oh hush,” Sylvia chided, then turned back to Ivy. “I’m Sylvia, though I suspect you’ve figured that out. Come in, come in. Everyone’s already here.”

The warmth of the farmhouse enveloped them as they stepped inside. The familiar scents of home—pine furniture polish, simmering food, the faint woody musk that emanated from a household of bear shifters—washed over Henry. Despite his reluctance, something in him eased at being at home.

Leland Kincaid’s imposing figure appeared from the living room, his handshake firm as he greeted them. Though his hair had silvered like Sylvia’s, the Alpha of Timber Bear Ranch maintained the powerful physique and commanding presence that had defined him throughout Henry’s childhood.

“Son,” he said simply, his expression softening with genuine pleasure. “Good to see you.” His attention shifted to Ivy, his handshake gentler but no less sincere. “And you must be the woman who’s finally drawn our hermit from his cave.”

“It’s a cabin, not a cave,” Henry corrected automatically, earning a chuckle from his father.

“A distinction without much difference, the way you describe it.”

Before Henry could defend his living arrangement, his uncle Buck and aunt Maria entered from the kitchen. Buck’s solid, practical presence contrasted with Maria’s graceful movements, the two of them complementary in ways that spoke to years of partnership.

“About time you showed up for something besides birthdays and Christmas,” Uncle Buck said, clapping Henry on the shoulder with enough force to make a normal human stagger.

Maria smiled warmly at Ivy. “Don’t mind them. The Kincaid men communicate primarily through grunts and mild violence.”

From the dining room doorway, Uncle Jessie and his fox-shifter mate Dana appeared, Jessie’s face splitting into a mischievous grin that spelled trouble.

“Well, well,” Uncle Jessie drawled, leaning against the doorframe. “If it isn’t our resident forest troll, actually socializing. Hell must have frozen solid.”

“Play nice,” Dana admonished, before extending her hand to Ivy. “I’m Dana. We’re all dying to meet the woman who managed what we thought was impossible.”

Henry felt his shoulders inching toward his ears with each passing comment. Only Uncle Cyrus, observing from his position against the far wall with his mate Daisy at his side, offered a simple nod of understanding.

A squeal from the kitchen doorway announced the arrival of Joy. She bypassed Henry entirely, launching herself at Ivy with familiar enthusiasm.

“Finally!” Joy exclaimed, hugging Ivy tightly. “I thought it would take forever before he introduced you to the family! It’s crazy that the two of you lived on the mountain your whole lives and never ran into each other.”

“Fate works in mysterious ways,” Ivy said with a grin.

“Well, you can thank me,” Joy declared proudly. “I’m the one who finally dragged this caveman into the digital age. That phone I bought him for Uncle Leland’s birthday led directly to this moment.”

Henry felt heat creep up his neck as all eyes turned to him. “The mate.com profile was originally for your benefit, Joy.”

“Aren’t you glad you’re such a loyal cousin?” Joy replied with a satisfied smirk.

“Actually, I am,” Henry managed. “This woman is… my sunshine.”

“Dinner’s ready,” Sylvia announced.

The massive oak dining table that dominated the farm’s eating area had witnessed decades of Kincaid family meals.

Platters of food made their rounds—roast beef, garlic mashed potatoes, fresh vegetables, warm bread that steamed when broken open.

The familiar chaos of a Kincaid family dinner unfolded around them: Uncle Buck describing the latest timber harvest, Uncle Jessie recounting a mechanical emergency with the tractors, Uncle Cyrus offering brief updates about wildlife patterns on the north ridge.

Henry’s brothers, Logan and Mason, arrived slightly late, offering hurried greetings before taking their seats.

Logan, who managed the ranch’s business operations alongside their father, immediately launched into a story about a difficult client, while Mason, responsible for the ranch’s veterinary needs, shared updates about a pregnant cow needing special attention.

Henry remained mostly silent, content to let conversation flow around him rather than through him, as was his habit at these gatherings. But he noticed how easily Ivy engaged with each family member.

“So Ivy,” Leland said during a lull in conversation, “Henry tells us you’re leading the new nature center project.”

“That’s right,” she confirmed, setting down her fork. “We’re creating an educational space where visitors can learn about Fate Mountain’s ecosystems and conservation needs.”

“Beautiful location for it,” Leland nodded. “Though there’s been some strange activity around that area lately.”

Henry’s attention sharpened at his father’s tone. “What kind of activity?”

“Property transactions,” Leland replied, buttering a piece of bread. “Parcels changing hands through shell companies.”

Uncle Buck nodded in agreement. “It’s been going around. I even found surveyors on our southeastern boundary last month. When I questioned them, they claimed to have permits but wouldn’t say who they were working for.”

“Probably related to those corporate interests eyeing Fate Mountain,” Uncle Jessie added. “Remember that resort proposal the county rejected last year?”

“Vance Construction’s doing your nature center, right?” Leland asked Ivy. “They’ve got an impressive track record with sustainable building. Always seem to get the best locations too.”

“Ronald Vance has been wonderful to work with,” Ivy agreed.

“Those successful contractors,” Uncle Buck said, reaching for the potatoes, “they often know about land deals before they become public. That’s how they manage to be in the right place at the right time.”

Henry’s eyes narrowed at this casual observation.

“My friend at the county records office has been working overtime lately,” Joy mentioned, glancing between Ivy and Henry.

“Says she’s noticed contractor names appearing in all sorts of unexpected documents for properties around where you’re building.

Corporate shells buying land, strange zoning applications, that sort of thing. ”

“What kind of zoning applications?” Henry asked.

“Requests to modify conservation easements or change land use designations.” She took a sip of water. “She thought it was weird how the same names keep appearing on completely different types of applications.”

Henry caught Ivy’s gaze across the table as her expression shifted. “We’ve had sabotage issues at the construction site,” Ivy said carefully. “It’s been escalating.”

A protective growl rumbled in Henry’s chest before he could suppress it. The sound drew knowing looks from his brothers and father, but Henry ignored them, focusing instead on the discussion.

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried undermining Fate Mountain projects,” Leland noted.

The conversation shifted to local gossip about corporate developers seeking to undermine family businesses. Henry listened intently, connecting these community observations with what he and Ivy had personally witnessed.

As the meal progressed to dessert—Sylvia’s famous apple crumble with vanilla ice cream—Henry realized his posture had relaxed. He’d even contributed to several conversations without feeling the usual strain of social interaction.

After dinner, the family scattered throughout the house in their usual pattern.

Leland and Logan retreated to discuss ranch business.

Sylvia marshaled Dana and Maria for kitchen cleanup while keeping Daisy, in the late stages of a later in life pregnancy, comfortably seated.

Mason headed outside to check on the cow that had been showing symptoms earlier.

Uncle Jessie and Uncle Cyrus moved to the back porch to enjoy the evening air.

Joy seized the opportunity to pull both Henry and Ivy into the study, closing the door behind them.

“I figured you two might want more details about what my friend in records has noticed,” she said without preamble. “Especially if it relates to your sabotage problems.”

“We’d appreciate anything you can share,” Ivy replied.

Joy leaned against the desk. “Angela’s been processing property documents for fifteen years. Says she’s never seen this much activity around previously protected areas.”

Henry and Ivy exchanged glances. “I’ll text you Angela’s contact info,” Joy continued, pulling out her phone.

“We’ll definitely follow up on this,” Ivy said, her expression thoughtful.

“Thanks, Joy. This helps,” Henry said.

As the evening wound down, goodbyes took predictably long, with Sylvia extracting promises for future visits. By the time they finally made it back to Henry’s truck, full darkness had settled over Timber Bear Ranch, the stars emerging in brilliant clarity above the valley.

Henry drove in silence for several minutes, organizing his thoughts as the truck wound down the mountain road toward Fate Mountain Village. Beside him, Ivy seemed equally contemplative, her gaze directed out the window at the passing forest.

“Your family loves you,” Ivy said simply. “They respect your independence but also want to be part of your life.”

“I’ve always kept them at a distance,” he acknowledged. “Figured it was better that way. For them and for me.”

“Because connection makes you vulnerable?” she suggested gently.

Henry nodded, hands tightening on the steering wheel. “The forest doesn’t make demands. Doesn’t have expectations.”

“Neither does your family, from what I saw,” Ivy observed. “They just want to know you. The real you, not just the parts you think are acceptable to share.”

The insight struck him with unexpected force. How long had he been compartmentalizing himself? The ranger, the son, the brother, the bear—maintaining careful separation between each aspect rather than integrating them into a complete whole.

“What we learned tonight about those land transactions,” Ivy said after a moment, her voice thoughtful in the moonlit cab. “The pieces are starting to fit together.”

Henry nodded, already assembling the evidence. “The nature center location would be perfect for development if the wildlife corridor restrictions were removed.”

She turned toward him, moonlight in her eyes. “We need to see those county records firsthand.”

“Monday morning,” Henry confirmed. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”