Page 2 of Guard Bear (Return To Fate Mountain #5)

She'd ruined so many batches in the early days. Now her hands moved without thought, each motion practiced a thousand times. When both the milk-lye solution and oils reached 90 degrees, she poured the lye solution into the oils in a steady stream, her stick blender already whirring.

She watched for trace, that crucial moment when oils and lye bonded into something new.

The stick blender left trails in the cream-colored base, writing temporary messages she'd learned to read like tea leaves.

When those trails stayed visible for three seconds, when the mixture dripped from the blender in ribbons that held their shape on the surface—that perfect pudding consistency—she knew she'd reached trace.

She worked quickly now, dividing the batch between two smaller containers.

To the first, she added lavender essential oil, the scent blooming purple and calm through the workshop.

For the second, her signature honey oat blend—sweet raw honey from her own hives mixed with finely ground oatmeal.

She folded in the colloidal oats carefully, ensuring even distribution for gentle exfoliation.

She poured the liquid soap into molds, tapped each mold against the counter to release air bubbles, then smoothed the tops with a spatula dipped in alcohol.

She covered them with cardboard to prevent ash, then wrapped them in old towels to hold the heat.

The saponification would continue for twenty-four hours, the mixture heating itself as it transformed into soap.

Tomorrow she'd unmold and cut. Six weeks later, these bars would be ready for market.

Joy then walked through her storage shelves to the older batches and pulled down the boxes of bars that were ready for market on Saturday. Her fingers tested each one, feeling for that perfect firmness.

At noon, she took her lunch break back in her tiny house. She put together a salad from vegetables from her mother Maria’s garden and ate while scrolling through her phone for market updates and weather forecasts.

A text from her father, Buck Kincaid, popped up on her screen. "Strange things at MacAllister's farm. Cut fences. Stock loose. You notice anything odd?"

Joy's fingers hesitated over the keyboard. The shifted entrance reducers. The loose light bulb and gate latch. That weird scent her lion had noticed. Her chest tightened.

"A few little things," she typed back. "Motion-sensor lightbulb loose. Some hive equipment moved. Caught a trace of unfamiliar scent—couldn’t identify it. Not animal. Chemical maybe? Probably nothing."

Even as she sent it, her mountain lion paced, tail lashing.

His response came quickly. "Keep your eyes open. Lots of 'accidents' lately. Your uncle Leland had fence lines cut on the north pasture. MacAllister lost six calves when they wandered through."

Joy set down her phone as her father's words sank in. Cut fences. Lost livestock. The loose gate latch and shifted entrance reducers suddenly felt less like coincidence.

The afternoon passed in routine tasks. She tightened the gate latch, testing it twice to make sure. Checked her hives again during her afternoon rounds. Everything looked fine. In the workshop office, she updated online orders and printed shipping labels for tomorrow's packages.

Three jars of wildflower honey were headed to Portland.

A dozen lavender goat milk soaps were going to a boutique in Bend.

A set of beeswax candles were bound for a wedding in Eugene.

Each product carrying her tiny bee logo into someone else's home.

Her mountain lion remained alert, but Joy pushed the feeling aside. No use getting worked up over nothing.

By evening, exhaustion weighed on her shoulders. She prepared a simple dinner, eating on her porch as the sun set behind the mountains. On Saturday she'd load up her cured soaps for the farmers market, set up her booth next to Holly's ornaments, and pretend everything was fine. Same as always.

After washing her dishes, Joy opened her laptop at the small table. The mate.com homepage loaded, cheerful and bright with its promises of connection. The dashboard appeared. No new messages. No alerts. The same screen she'd seen for months. All were less than 100% matches.

Her throat tightened. She refreshed the page, knowing it wouldn't change but needing the ritual. Her best friend Holly Bright had refreshed this same page for five years before Elias appeared. One day, nothing. The next, her hundred percent match blazed across the screen like a miracle.

Joy remembered her best friend's breathless phone call.

The excitement that made her voice go high and breathy.

The absolute certainty that shone in Holly's eyes when she'd rushed over to share the news.

The way Holly's whole life pivoted on that moment, everything before just prologue to her real story.

Now, Holly and Elias were expecting their first child.

Loneliness crashed over Joy like a physical weight.

Tomorrow at the market, Holly would have Elias helping her arrange ornaments, carrying her boxes, bringing her warm milk without being asked.

All the small intimacies of partnership that Joy watched from behind her soap display while her chest ached with want.

She closed the laptop with a soft click. Her mountain lion turned a slow circle in her mind, searching for something that wasn't there. The restlessness from this morning had transformed into something deeper. A hollow ache that no amount of business success could fill.

She sighed and got ready for bed. Maybe some things weren't meant to be.