Page 3 of Mismatched Mates (Special Bear Protectors)

JANE

D id I make a wrong turn and end up at doggy daycare instead of the elementary school today? The high-pitched squeals and laughter were enough to make my heightened shifter hearing wince.

I watched Lance and Brandon dash towards the entrance, their backpacks bouncing wildly. A smile tugged at my lips despite the chaos. Those two could tear through the house like miniature tornadoes, but put them in front of their teachers, and they transformed into perfect little gentlemen.

Go figure.

As the last stragglers filtered into the building, my mind wandered back to Heather's suggestion about the matchmaking service. I snorted. Yeah, right. Because nothing says "romance" like filling out a questionnaire about your ideal mate. What would I even put? "Must enjoy long walks in the woods, preferably on four legs"?

I shook my head, banishing the ridiculous thought. No, I was better off focusing on what really mattered: my boys, my job, and treating myself to a latte on the way to work. Romance could take a backseat... or better yet, stay in the trunk where it belonged.

"Jane!"

I jumped as a familiar voice cut through my caffeine-deprived musings. Victoria stood in front of me, face beaming.

"Luke told me all about your new boyfriend," she gushed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I can't wait to meet him at the wedding!"

Oh, crap. That lie was now apparently making the rounds faster than gossip at a pack gathering.

"Oh, um, yeah," I stammered, forcing a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. "Can't wait for you to meet him too."

Victoria's smile widened, if that was even possible. "This is so exciting! Luke's been worried about you, you know. It's great to see you putting yourself out there again."

Great. Fantastic.

Now I had the whole family invested in my non-existent love life. I suppressed a groan, wondering if it was too late to fake my own death or move to a remote cave in the Rockies.

"So, tell me all about him," Victoria pressed, leaning in conspiratorially. "What's his name? What does he do? Is he... you know... one of y’all?"

I swallowed hard, my mind racing.

"Well, you know," I hedged, desperately searching for an escape route. "He's... um... it's still pretty new. I don't want to jinx anything by talking about it too much."

Victoria's face softened with understanding. "Of course, of course. I totally get it. Well, I'm just thrilled for you." She and Luke were already technically married, but had waited to plan the ceremony until after she’d made the move from New York permanently.

As she pulled me into a warm hug, I felt a twinge of guilt twist in my gut. Victoria was genuinely happy for me, despite the shitty way I’d treated her. If karma existed, I deserved to choke on my own web of lies in the school parking lot.

"Thanks, Victoria," I managed, patting her back awkwardly. "I, uh, should probably get going. Work and all that."

She released me with a knowing nod. “Don't let me keep you."

As I climbed into my car, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the rearview mirror. The woman staring back at me looked frazzled, guilty, and more than a little lost.

What the hell had I gotten myself into?

With a deep breath, I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white. I glanced at Victoria's retreating form in my side mirror, her cheerful wave heightening the panic rising in my chest.

"Shit, shit, shit," I muttered, fumbling for my phone. "What am I doing?"

I’d always prided myself on having it all together—before Victoria, I was the one Luke called when he needed someone to wrap presents, plan parties and generally pick up his ex-wife’s slack. But now, I couldn't even keep my own life together.

My fingers hovered over Heather's name but I knew what she’d say. The matchmaking service. The very idea made my stomach churn, but what choice did I have? I'd dug this hole; now I had to lie in it. Or climb out of it. Whatever.

I reluctantly tapped the number out, starting the call.

"Hello, Victory Matchmaking. How may I help you?" a chipper voice answered.

I swallowed hard. "Hi, I'd like to... um... set up an appointment?"

"Wonderful! We'd be happy to help you find your perfect match. May I ask who's calling?"

Perfect match. Right. As if such a thing existed. "Jane Rider," I replied, my voice tight.

As I hung up, having secured an appointment for later that day, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was making a huge mistake. But what was the alternative? Admit to Luke and Victoria that I'd lied? That I couldn’t get a date?

Not a chance.

I pulled up to a sprawling Victorian house, its weathered charm a far cry from the sterile office I'd imagined. Neatly trimmed shrubs lined the walkway, and ivy crawled up the stone walls like nature's own wallpaper. No sign, no business facade—just a quaint home that looked like it belonged in a fairy tale.

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered, gripping the steering wheel. "What is this, Grandma's house of love?"

As I stepped out of the car, the scent of damp earth and aged wood hit me. It was... comforting, it reminded me of the forests where my bear liked to run. I shook off the thought. This wasn't about comfort; this was about damage control.

The wooden porch creaked under my feet as I approached the door, each step feeling heavier than the last. I hesitated, my hand hovering over the knocker. Was I really going through with this?

"Come on, Jane," I whispered to myself. "You've faced down bridezillas and catering disasters. This is nothing."

The door swung open, revealing a petite woman with a clipboard. "Ms. Rider?" she asked, her voice soft but professional. "Please, come in."

I stepped inside, immediately enveloped by cool air and a soothing silence. The interior was a mishmash of modern and antique, like someone had raided both a Pottery Barn and their great-aunt's attic.

"Follow me," she said, leading me down a narrow hallway.

My shoes clicked against the hardwood floors, each step echoing my discomfort. The subtle scent of lavender mixed with the mustiness of old books.

"Is this the same matchmaker my brother used?" I found myself asking, curiosity getting the better of me.

The assistant smiled enigmatically. "We have several matchmakers, each specializing in different... areas. But don't worry, you're in good hands."

Great. Cryptic answers. Just what I needed.

As we approached a cozy sitting room, I felt a wave of annoyance—at myself, at this situation. What was I even doing here?

"The matchmaker will be with you shortly," the assistant said, gesturing for me to enter the room.

I nodded, forcing a smile.

Within a few minutes, a woman walked in who looked like she'd stepped right out of a PTA meeting. Her attire struck just the right balance between business and casual.

"Jane, welcome," she said, her voice warm but sharp. "I'm Evelyn."

I tried not to sink further into the velvet armchair as she studied me with eyes that seemed to see right through my carefully constructed walls. Wonderful. A mind-reading matchmaker.

"Hi," I managed, my voice coming out more strained than I'd like. "Nice... place you've got here."

Evelyn smiled, settling into the chair opposite me. "Thank you. Now, let's talk about what you're looking for, shall we?"

No chit chat. All business.

The tick of an old grandfather clock in the corner punctuated the silence that followed. I crossed my arms, suddenly feeling like I was back in high school, being interrogated by the guidance counselor.

"Well," I started, my mind racing. What was I looking for? A time machine to go back and stop myself from ever agreeing to this? "I guess... someone nice?"

Evelyn's pen scratched softly against her notepad. "Nice," she repeated, her tone neutral. "And what else?"

I shifted in my seat, the chair creaking beneath me. "Um, responsible? Good with kids?" I was grasping at straws here, listing qualities that seemed safe and uncontroversial.

"Mhm," Evelyn murmured, her pen never stopping. "And what about passion, Jane? Connection? That spark that makes your heart race?"

I felt my cheeks heat up. "I'm not really here for... that," I said, fidgeting with my hands. "I mean, I have two kids and a business. I don't have time for sparks."

Evelyn's pen suddenly stopped its dance across the page. She tapped it thoughtfully against her chin, her gaze making me squirm.

"You don't really believe in true love, do you?" she asked, her tone casual, nonjudgemental.

The ticking of that damn grandfather clock amplified. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a thunderous reminder of how much I didn't want to be having this conversation.

"True love?" I scoffed, aiming for nonchalance but landing somewhere closer to defensive. "Come on, that's fairytale nonsense. I'm a practical person."

I couldn't exactly tell her about fated mates. As far as Evelyn knew, I was just another human looking for companionship. But her eyes narrowed slightly, and I had the unsettling feeling she knew more than she let on.

"If that's the case," she pressed, leaning forward, "why are you really here, Jane? If you don't believe in true love, what exactly are you hoping to find?"

My fingers instinctively clenched the armrests, the soft fabric suddenly felt hot, constraining.

"I..." I started, then faltered. "I don't know," I finally managed.

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Evelyn's gaze. "Or maybe," I continued, my voice cracking, "I'm just jealous."

The admission hung in the air, raw and unexpected. Sunlight filtered through the lace curtains, suddenly too bright. I felt exposed, vulnerable in a way I hadn't anticipated.

"It's my brother, Luke, and his fiance Victoria," I explained, the words tumbling out. "They're so disgustingly in love, it's... well, it's beautiful, actually. And terrifying."

I laughed, but it came out more like a choked sob. "I never believed in fated ma-- I mean, true love before. Maybe that was just my way of justifying my marriage. But now..." I trailed off, unable to meet Evelyn's eyes.

"Now you're wondering if you've been lying to yourself all along?" Evelyn offered gently.

I nodded, surprised by the lump in my throat. "What if I do want that kind of love? What if I'm just scared it's not meant for me?"

The matchmaker listened intently, her pen forgotten on her notepad. When I finished, she nodded slowly, a half-smile playing at her lips.

"You know, Jane," she said, her voice soft but clear, "it's not about the lies we tell others. It's the ones we tell ourselves that keep us from what we really want."

I blinked, taken aback by the simple truth of her words.

"You've already taken the first step," Evelyn continued, closing her notepad. "And I assure you, I'm very good at my job."

I felt a strange mix of relief and discomfort wash over me. It was like a weight had been lifted, but now I wasn't quite sure what to do with all this newfound... space.

"Great," I muttered, only half-joking. "So now what? You conjure up my perfect mate?"

Evelyn chuckled. "Not quite. But I think you'll find that opening yourself up to the possibility of love is its own kind of magic."

I rolled my eyes, wondering how this woman managed to illicit such a confession from me in the span of a few short minutes.

I stepped out of the Victorian house, squinting as the afternoon sun hit my face. The warmth was a stark contrast to the coolness inside, and for a moment, I just stood there, letting the heat seep into my skin.

"Well, that was... something," I muttered to myself, running a hand through my hair.

The quiet suburban street stretched out before me, silent save for the crunch of gravel under my boots as I made my way to my car. Each step felt like a decision, though I wasn't quite sure what I was deciding.

"What the hell am I doing?" I asked out loud.

The universe remained predictably silent.