Page 13 of The Bear’s Matchmaking Mix-up Mate (Bear Creek Forever:Thornberg Vineyard #6)

Finn drove the winding road back to Rowan Cottage with his heart lighter than it had been in years.

And there is no need to guess why, his bear said happily.

No need to guess at all, because the reason for his happiness sat beside him, gazing out the window with a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. The scent of her, the nearness of her, her very presence, filled him with joy.

Did you see how Mom and Dad looked at her? Like they already knew she was our mate, Finn said.

Oh, they knew, his bear said. But thankfully, they chose to keep it to themselves and not put us in an awkward position.

They must have realized that Wren doesn’t know, Finn replied.

Of course, they realized, his bear said. Because if she knew we were mates, we’d have told them. And we didn’t. Simple.

Simple. Finn grinned to himself as he turned onto the narrow road that led to Rowan Cottage, even though there would be nothing simple about telling Wren they were mates. But he didn’t want to dwell on that now. He wanted to enjoy this moment. And every other moment he spent with his mate.

She’ll understand, his bear insisted. Because she feels it, too.

His bear was right. He saw it in her eyes when they touched. She experienced the same sense of connection, but she simply didn’t know what it was.

But something had shifted today. As if she were ready to learn, ready to let him in.

The gravel crunched beneath the tires as Finn pulled up to Rowan Cottage and cut the engine. He didn’t want this day to end. He didn’t want to leave her here and drive away .

“Thanks for showing me the vineyard,” Wren said, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Your parents are wonderful.”

“They liked you.” Finn ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck, unable to stop the shy, boyish smile that stretched across his lips. “A lot.”

Wren’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she touched her fingers to her pendant, a gesture he’d come to recognize as her way of collecting herself when emotions ran high. Finn’s heart flipped, amazed at how well he already knew her little tells.

“Would you...” she began, then paused, her fingers twisting together in her lap. “Would you like to come in?”

“I…I…” he stammered.

“I understand if you are busy. I have taken up so much of your time over the last couple of days,” she began. “It’s just that I finished a song last night. I…I’d really like you to be the first to hear it.”

“I’d be honored, Wren,” he said quietly, his voice rougher than he’d intended. Finn reached across the space between them, just barely letting his hand brush her forearm. It was a light, barely there touch, but full of meaning.

His bear practically vibrated with excitement. She’s letting us in. She’s opening up. Play it cool, Finn.

I’m not sure that’s possible, Finn said, unable to suppress his smile.

They stepped out into the cool evening air, the mountains silhouetted against the darkening sky. Finn closed the truck door behind him, then moved to stand beside Wren as she gazed toward the forest edge where the trees swayed gently in the breeze.

“The light at this time of day is something else,” Wren murmured.

“It is,” Finn agreed, his voice barely above a whisper.

He was acutely aware of how close they stood, their shoulders nearly touching. Something invisible seemed to pull them together, like gravity or magnetism or fate itself. His bear rumbled contentedly inside him, urging him closer.

When Finn looked down, Wren was already gazing up at him.

Her lips parted slightly, then pursed, her eyes reflecting the last golden rays of sunlight.

His heart thudded against his ribs so loud he thought she might hear it as he tried to read her expression.

Was she asking him to kiss her? The air between them felt charged, electric.

He leaned forward just a fraction, testing, waiting.

But then Wren blinked and stepped back, breaking the spell. “We should go listen to my song,” she said, her voice slightly breathless.

Disappointment coursed through him, but Finn nodded, trying not to let it show. “Lead the way.”

She fumbled slightly with her keys at the door, and Finn resisted the urge to place his hand over hers to steady them. Finally, the lock turned, and she stepped inside.

“The studio’s upstairs,” Wren said in almost businesslike fashion as she led the way. “It’s not much, just a spare room I’ve set up with my equipment.”

Finn climbed the stairs behind her, wishing they were going upstairs for another reason. He longed to hold her in his arms and make love to her.

But that wasn’t why they were here, and he knew how much this song meant to Wren.

The room was small but warm, with a window seat overlooking the garden. Her well-loved guitar stood in one corner, and a small recording setup occupied another. Notebooks were stacked on a desk, some open, pages filled with her neat handwriting.

Wren’s hands trembled slightly as she picked up her guitar and settled onto the window seat, gesturing for Finn to take the chair across from her.

The fading sunlight caught in her hair as she bent over the instrument, tuning it with practiced fingers.

She bit her lip, glanced up at him, then away.

Finn wanted to tell her not to be nervous, but held his tongue, letting her do what she needed to do, be who she needed to be.

“It’s still rough,” she warned, not meeting his eyes. “And I haven’t recorded it properly yet, so...”

“Wren,” Finn whispered. “I already know it’s going to be amazing.” His voice cracked a little on the last word.

She looked up then, a smile breaking across her face as she took a deep breath, her fingers poised over the strings, and began to play.

The first notes filled the room, clear and sweet, building into a melody that seemed to reach inside Finn’s chest and squeeze. And then she began to sing, her voice low and intimate, as if she were telling secrets meant only for him.

The lyrics washed over him, words about shadows and light, about walls crumbling, about finding courage in someone else’s steady gaze. About coming home to yourself after being lost for so long. Each verse unwound something tight in Finn’s chest, each chorus built something new in its place.

His bear fell silent, utterly transfixed. She’s magical, his bear whispered in awe. She’s everything and more.

Finn couldn’t have responded even if he had tried. He sat perfectly still, afraid that any movement might break the spell of her voice. This wasn’t just a song; it was Wren, stripped bare, offering him a piece of her soul. He could feel the truth of it in every note, every word.

When the final chord faded, the silence that followed felt sacred. Finn realized his cheeks were wet, tears he hadn’t even felt falling.

“That was...” His voice broke, and he had to clear his throat. “That was incredible. I’ve never heard anything so honest, Wren.” He swiped at his cheeks, unable to stop smiling, not caring if he looked like a fool.

She looked up at him, her own eyes bright with unshed tears. A small laugh escaped her, part relief, part wonder.

“I almost didn’t finish it,” she admitted. “But then…well, I found something here worth singing about.”

Finn reached for her hand—just a light touch, but enough that she could feel his gratitude, his awe. He let it linger. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice thick, “for sharing it with me.”

His bear stirred suddenly, urgent. It’s our turn now. Tell her. Show her who we are. She deserves the truth. Our truth. Just as she shared her truth.

Finn took a deep breath, his heart racing. “There’s something I want to share with you, too,” he said, the words coming out in a rush. “Something I need you to know.”

Wren looked up, her expression open, trusting. “You can tell me anything, Finn.”

In that moment, looking into her eyes, Finn knew with bone-deep certainty that she would accept him as her mate. And he also knew she was everything he ever wanted, everything he ever needed.

Now, Finn, his bear urged gently. She’s ready. We’re ready.

Finn squeezed her hand, searching her face for any sign of fear, but found only love and trust reflected there.

His bear rumbled, No turning back now, Finn. This is the moment that changes everything.

Finn steeled himself for what came next. What he was about to reveal could change everything between them forever. But he wanted no secrets, no walls. Not with her.

“I want you to know the real me, Wren,” he said, his voice steady despite the thunder of his pulse. “All of me.”