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

Chapter

Four

Andre stood at the edge of the market square, hands trembling against his uniform pants. The morning sun beat down on his shoulders, making his collar feel too tight. His bear prowled beneath his skin, muscles coiling and releasing with each breath.

He’d spotted her. Joy. Honey Lion. His mate.

The world narrowed to a single point. Her laugh carried across the square as she handed change to a customer.

The sound hit him like a physical blow, making his knees buckle.

He gripped the nearest tent pole. The metal felt cool against his palm, grounding him when everything else spun out of control.

Her hair caught the light, dark strands shot through with gold like the honey she sold. She moved with feline grace, reaching up to adjust her display. The shirt with tiny bees stretched across her breasts. His bear surged forward, desperate to claim what belonged to him.

Mate. Mate. Mate. The word pounded through his blood with each heartbeat.

Each step across the market square was a battle. His bear wanted to run to her, to gather her up, to carry her somewhere safe where no one else could see her or touch her or breathe her air. Andre forced his feet to move at human speed. Normal. Professional.

The scent hit him twenty feet out. Honey and wildflowers, warm female skin, the faint musk of mountain lion. His vision sharpened until the colors hurt. He could count the individual strands of her hair, see the pulse fluttering at her throat.

He forced himself to stop at the leather goods booth next to hers.

The vendor smiled as he pretended to examine hand-tooled wallets and belts.

His entire being focused on Joy just ten feet away.

She was explaining the benefits of goat milk soap to an elderly woman, her voice warm and patient. Each word wrapped around him like silk.

When he finally reached her booth, she turned to face him fully.

"Honey Lion?" The words came out as a growl.

Up close, she was even more beautiful. She had a dusting of freckles across her nose that he wanted to count with kisses.

There was a small scar on her chin that demanded the story behind it.

"Andre?" Her voice caught on his name.

The air between them crackled with electricity. Every hair on his body stood at attention. Her pupils dilated, turning her eyes almost black. The elderly customer cleared her throat, but neither of them could look away.

"I messaged you last night." His voice sounded foreign to his own ears, too deep, too rough.

"I know. I saw it this morning." Direct. No games. His bear approved even as his human side scrambled for what to say next.

The silence stretched taut as a wire. He could hear her heartbeat accelerating, matching his own racing pulse. The elderly customer muttered something about young people and toddled away. Still, they stared at each other, frozen in place by the mate bond screaming between them.

Then three customers descended on Joy's booth at once, all talking over each other about custom orders and allergies and whether she had unscented options. Joy blinked hard, shaking her head like she was surfacing from deep water.

"I need to..." She gestured helplessly at the crowd.

"Of course." Andre stepped back, though every cell in his body screamed in protest.

While Joy served customers, Andre couldn't stand still.

His protective instincts needed outlet before he did something stupid like vault over her table and carry her away.

The elderly vendor two booths down struggled with a heavy crate of preserves.

Andre moved before he made the conscious decision.

"Let me get that for you, ma'am."

The crate weighed at least forty pounds. He lifted it like it was made of air, setting it gently on her table. The woman’s weathered face creased into a smile.

"Such a nice young man. Are you new to town?"

"Yes ma'am. Just started with Bear Patrol."

"Oh good. We need more strong boys keeping us safe."

Andre helped her arrange mason jars while stealing glances at Joy. She was watching him between customers, her expression unreadable.

When the booth three spaces down started tilting dangerously, its corner leg wobbling on the uneven ground, Andre was already moving.

The teenage vendor selling hand-carved wooden spoons looked ready to cry as his entire display threatened to slide onto the grass.

Andre braced the sagging corner with his shoulder while fishing a multi-tool from his pocket.

The adjustable foot had worked loose from its bracket, leaving the leg too short.

He cranked it back into position, extending it until the table sat level again.

"Thank you so much," the kid breathed. "I thought I was going to lose everything."

Andre waved him off, his attention already shifting to the pregnant vendor struggling with a plastic crate full of ceramic mugs. She'd managed to lift it from her van but stood frozen, clearly calculating the distance to her table.

"Please, let me." He took the weight before she could protest. "Where would you like this?"

Each act of service calmed his bear slightly. Protecting. Providing. Showing his mate what kind of male he was. He caught Joy tracking his movements, something soft flickering across her face before she turned back to her customer.

At a vegetable booth, a young mother bounced a crying baby while juggling a toddler and trying to dig out her wallet. Her coffee sat abandoned on a nearby table, probably cold by now. Andre bought a fresh cup from the coffee booth and appeared at her elbow.

"Thought you might need this."

Tears actually welled in her eyes. "Oh my God, thank you. I've been up since four."

"My sister says it gets better." He helped corral the toddler while she paid for her vegetables. "Her oldest boy just turned five."

"Please tell me he sleeps past sunrise now."

"She claims six-thirty on good days."

She laughed, looking more relaxed. Andre watched her walk away with both children and all her purchases intact. When he turned back, Joy was serving another customer, but her eyes followed him. Rollo Morris materialized beside him.

"Making the rounds, I see." Rollo's tone was friendly but assessing.

"Yes sir. Trying to get a feel for the market dynamics."

"Good man." Rollo nodded toward Joy's booth. "That's Joy Kincaid. Buck's daughter. Lives out on Timber Bear Ranch."

Andre filed the information away. Kincaid. The name suited her. Strong and grounded.

"I spoke with her earlier," Rollo continued.

"She mentioned some equipment tampering at her farm.

Moved beehive parts, a strange smell. She thinks it's nothing.

" Andre's bear snarled. His mate was being threatened.

His hands curled into fists. "But with everything else happening. .." Rollo let the sentence hang.

"I'll follow up with her." Andre fought to keep his voice level.

"Figured you would. Her number's on the security list if you need it for your report."

The older man ambled away, leaving Andre wrestling with his protective instincts. Someone had been on Joy's property. Touched her things. Threatened what was his. The bear wanted blood. The man wanted answers.

The crowd finally thinned at Joy’s booth. Andre approached like he was being drawn by a magnet. She counted bills into her cash box, movements precise despite the tremor in her fingers. Her scent wrapped around him, making his head spin and his bear rumble with need.

"I should probably buy something so I can talk to you." His attempt at humor fell flat.

"You don't have to?—"

"I want to." He surveyed her display, though he'd buy her entire inventory if it meant more time near her. "What do you recommend?"

She smiled as she explained each product with obvious passion.

Lavender soap for relaxation. Coffee scrub for exfoliation.

Honey oatmeal for sensitive skin. She gestured to the candles displayed on a separate shelf, each in a mason jar with a hand-written label.

Vanilla bourbon, pine forest, honeysuckle bloom.

Her eyes lit up as she talked about the honey from her own hives, the beeswax that formed the base of every candle, the goat milk from animals she'd raised herself. His bear purred.

He selected one of everything and ten extra bars of soap. She raised an eyebrow.

"That's a lot of soap for one person."

"I'm very dirty." The words slipped out before he could stop them. Heat crawled up his neck. "I mean, the job. Bear Patrol. It's... messy."

A smile tugged at her lips. "Right. The messy job."

She wrapped each bar in tissue paper, fingers making precise folds. Tiny bee stickers sealed each package. He watched her hands, imagining them touching him with the same careful attention. His bear rumbled loud enough that he coughed to cover it.

When she rang up the total, he pulled out his wallet. She held out the bag, and their fingers brushed as he took it. Lightning shot up his arm. Her pupils blew wide, lips parting on a gasp. The air between them was charged.

"Joy." Her name was a prayer on his lips.

"We should talk." She glanced around the busy market. "But not here."

"Coffee?" He seized the opening. "Tomorrow morning? I saw a place called Sweet Summit that looked nice."

She worried her lower lip between her teeth. His bear fixated on the gesture, wanting to soothe the abused flesh with his tongue.

"Okay. Tomorrow? I could meet you at Sweet Summit around ten, before I start prepping for next week?"

Tomorrow. His bear protested the wait, clawing at his insides, demanding he claim his mate now. Andre forced himself to nod. "Tomorrow at ten."

Another customer approached, and Andre made himself step back. The paper bag crinkled in his grip. A hundred dollars of soap and candles, and he'd buy hundreds more just to see her smile.

"Ten o'clock," he confirmed.

"Ten o'clock." She was already turning to help the customer, but he caught her glancing back at him.

Andre walked away on unsteady legs, his bear howling to return to their mate. Twenty-four hours until he could sit across from her, learn her favorite coffee order, discover what made her laugh.

He spent the rest of the market doing security rounds, but his attention never strayed far from Joy's booth.

Every vendor had a potential vulnerability to assess.

Every corner held a possible threat. He helped more people with heavy loads, fixed a cash register that kept jamming, even held someone's baby while they counted change.

Normal tasks were made surreal by the awareness thrumming through his veins. She was here. His mate was here. In twenty-four hours, they'd sit across from each other and figure out what came next.

Andre forced his breathing to steady. Control. He needed control. Joy had already seen him fumble through his announcement, already watched him struggle with the mate bond in public. If he wanted any chance with her, he had to be better than his instincts.

Twenty-four hours. He could make it twenty-four hours.

Then he'd keep her safe. No matter what it took.