Elsbeth woke to sunlight streaming through the curtains and an empty space beside her where Philip had been. For a moment, she wondered if she had dreamed it all—the bear shifter, the mating bond, the way they had made love until the early hours of the morning. But then the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifted up the stairs, and she smiled. It hadn’t been a dream after all.
She stretched languidly, her body pleasantly sore in ways that reminded her of every touch, every kiss they had shared. The memory of Philip’s hands on her skin, his lips trailing fire down her body, sent a delicious shiver through her.
Elsbeth slipped out of bed and quickly dressed, pulling on a clean shirt and jeans. As she moved toward the door, something caught her eye—her mother’s old flannel shirt on the floor beside the bed.
She bent to pick it up, holding it against her cheek, and tears pricked her eyes unexpectedly. She sank down onto the edge of the bed, overwhelmed with a mixture of emotions.
For so long, this shirt had been her lifeline, a tangible connection to the woman she’d lost. But as she sat there, listening to Philip humming downstairs, Elsbeth realized something had shifted inside her. The grief was still there—it would always be there—but it no longer threatened to drown her.
It was time to start letting go of the sorrow and embrace the joy. Her mother would always be a part of her, would always be part of Rose Farm. But Elsbeth now understood that when her mom had made her promise to pursue her dream of owning a flower farm, it wasn’t just about the flowers—it was about finding happiness again.
And with Philip, she had done just that.
She carefully folded the flannel shirt and placed it on the bed. Then she headed downstairs toward the sound of Philip’s humming and the promise of coffee.
Philip looked up as she entered the kitchen, his smile taking her breath away. Images from the night before flashed through her mind—their bodies entwined, whispered words of love, the connection that went beyond the physical.
He crossed the room and pulled her into his arms, his lips finding hers in a kiss that made her knees weak. She nestled against his chest, breathing in his scent, feeling the steady beat of his heart.
“Good morning,” he murmured against her hair.
“Good morning,” she replied, tilting her face up to his.
Philip drew back slightly, his brow furrowing as he noticed the tears glistening in her eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle with concern.
Elsbeth brushed the tears away with her fingertips. “Yes,” she assured him.
“Are you sure?” He wiped a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb.
“Yes.” She smiled up at him. “These are happy tears.”
“Then you must be very happy,” he said, brushing away another tear that had escaped.
“I am,” she whispered.
“Good.” Philip pressed a kiss to her forehead before moving to pour her a cup of coffee.
They took their mugs outside, sitting side by side on the deck steps, looking out over the fields that would soon bloom with flowers. Her dreams were coming true right before her eyes.
Elsbeth leaned against Philip’s shoulder, absorbing his warmth and strength as she sipped her coffee. “I do have one question for you,” she said after a comfortable silence.
“You do?” He turned to look at her, eyebrows raised.
“Why did you come here that first day?” she asked. “To Rose Farm?”
“Because of Finn’s text,” Philip replied.
“But the text was a mistake,” she pressed. “You still came.”
“Yes,” he nodded, “because he was supposed to text me the time and place for us to meet to arrange my parents’ anniversary party.”
“Oh, wow,” Elsbeth said. “So, when was the correct time and place?”
Philip looked a little confused, his brow furrowing. “You know, I don’t know.”
She laughed and shook her head. “You completely forgot about it.”
“I had other things on my mind.” He cupped her chin in his hand and kissed her lips softly. “My mate. I did tell you how much she means to me, didn’t I?”
“Once or twice,” she said when they parted. “But this is your mom and dad’s anniversary. How many years have they been together?”
“Fifty,” he replied.
“Wow.” Her eyes widened in surprise. “That is a long time.”
Elsbeth’s mind drifted to the dinner at the vineyard with Philip’s parents. After fifty years together, they still gazed at each other with such profound love and connection. It wasn’t the infatuated passion of new lovers, but something deeper, more enduring. A love that had weathered seasons and storms, that had grown stronger with each passing year.
She glanced at Philip beside her, his profile gilded by the morning sun, and her heart ached for him. Would they still look at each other that way after half a century together? The thought both thrilled and humbled her. She could imagine them, gray-haired and weathered, sitting on this very porch, surrounded by blooming flowers, still finding each other’s eyes across a room, still communicating without words.
“It is a long time,” Philip agreed, as if reading her thoughts. He sipped his coffee as he gazed out over the fields. “But also, not long enough.”
He was right. No matter how many years they were together, it would never be enough. But she didn’t want to dwell on such thoughts now. Not when there was a party to plan.
“You’d better find out from Finn the right time and place,” Elsbeth said, nudging him gently with her shoulder. “For the anniversary party.”
Philip nodded, setting his mug down and reaching for his phone. “I should,” he agreed, tapping the screen quickly. After a moment, he slipped the phone back in his pocket. “Done. He’ll get back to me.”
“I’d like to help, too,” Elsbeth offered hesitantly. Though Philip had told her she was part of the family now, she hadn’t met all his brothers yet. She didn’t want them to think she was being pushy.
Philip seemed to sense her uncertainty. His face brightened as he turned to her. “Well, I was going to offer to help with the decorations,” he said. “I planned on making them natural, using vines and other greenery from the vineyard.” His eyes sparkled with mischief. “But now that I’ve met a flower farmer...”
“When is it?” Elsbeth asked, her mind already racing with ideas. She could picture arrangements of seasonal blooms complementing the natural beauty of the vineyard, perhaps reflecting the colors of the changing vines.
“Not for another couple of months,” Philip replied. “But we all get so busy, we decided to make an early start on the plans.”
“I’d love to help with the flowers,” she said excitedly, squeezing his arm. “If I get planting right away, I’ll have lots of choice by then.”
Philip’s eyebrows rose playfully. “Is that a hint?”
“I can handle things here,” she assured him, suddenly aware that he probably had work waiting for him at the vineyard. “You should get back and do your chores. I don’t want to get on the wrong side of my future in-laws.”
“Future in-laws,” Philip repeated.
“Shifters do get married, right?”
“Indeed, they do,” Philip replied, his eyes darkening with an intensity that made it hard to breathe.
“Oh,” she said, suddenly flustered. “That was not a hint.” The thought of him proposing right then and there filled her with panic. And longing.
Philip chuckled at her shocked expression. “Relax,” he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “I need to buy a ring first.”
Elsbeth’s heart fluttered in her chest. The promise in his words was unmistakable. Not if , but when . She leaned against him, savoring the warmth of his body next to hers.
“I should probably start planning what to plant for the anniversary flowers,” she said, choosing to change the subject. “Do you know what colors your mother prefers?”
Philip wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “She loves blues and purples. She says they remind her of the mountains at dusk.”
“Perfect,” Elsbeth nodded. “I can work with that. Bachelor’s buttons, larkspur, lavender...” She ticked off possibilities on her fingers. “And maybe some white roses for contrast.”
“You’re already planning,” Philip observed with a smile.
“That’s what flower farmers do,” she replied. “We’re always thinking seasons ahead.”
Philip stood up, pulling her gently to her feet. “And that’s why you’re perfect for this family. We vineyard folk understand planning for the future.” He brushed a strand of hair from her face. “And you are my future.”
“I know,” she sighed, reluctant to see him go but understanding the demands of his work. “Will you come back tonight?”
“Try and stop me,” he murmured, lowering his head to capture her lips in a kiss that promised much more to come.
As he drove away, Elsbeth hugged herself, watching until his truck disappeared around the bend. Fifty years, she thought. It did seem both impossibly long and not nearly enough time to love Philip Thornberg. But they would make every moment count, starting right now.
With renewed purpose, she headed toward the greenhouse. She had flowers to plant, dreams to nurture, and a future to grow—one bloom at a time.