Page 3 of The Bear’s Matchmaking Mix-up Mate (Bear Creek Forever:Thornberg Vineyard #6)

Morning mist clung to the Bear Creek community garden like a lover reluctant to leave, wrapping around the newly turned soil and fresh green shoots.

Finn’s bear sighed, I would like to be a lover reluctant to leave our mate .

Finn couldn’t help but smile at that, the longing for their mate both sharp and sweet. The world felt more vivid this morning. The sun shone brighter; the forests grew greener.

Because our mate is in it, his bear said happily. I cannot wait to see her again.

You and me both, Finn said as he made his way through the community garden, armed with two travel mugs of hot coffee. He sensed his brother at the northern edge of the plot and made his way toward him.

As he walked, even the dirt under his boots felt different. As for the ache in his chest, it left him feeling more alive. Yet there was a twinge of uneasiness he could not shake.

He might have met his mate, but he was a long way from making her his.

“You’re late,” Alfie called out, not bothering to look up as Finn approached. His dark hair was tousled in that deliberately casual way that somehow worked for him, while Finn’s own hair still had the indentation from where he’d slept on it wrong.

Not that he’d slept much at all. He’d spent the night tossing and turning as images of his mate filled his head. Then, when he finally fell asleep, he’d woken with the terrifying thought that meeting his mate had all been a dream.

“By three minutes,” Finn countered, holding out one of the travel mugs to his brother. “But I come bearing gifts.”

Alfie’s face brightened as he accepted the coffee. “All is forgiven then.” He took a deep sip and sighed appreciatively. “Mom’s special blend?”

“Is there any other kind worth drinking at six in the morning?” Finn asked as he took a sip of his coffee.

“No, there is not,” Alfie said as they stood together in companionable silence, simply enjoying the moment.

“Okay,” Finn said. “What’s the plan?”

“So I’m thinking we go with a ‘Seeds of Change’ theme for the fundraiser,” Alfie finally said, flipping through his notes as he got down to business. “Local bands, farm-to-table appetizers, maybe an auction of some kind.”

Finn nodded, mentally sketching the layout as they walked the perimeter through the morning dew. “We could set up the stage there,” he pointed, “with string lights overhead. Keep the food stations along this side, and auction items under a tent by the oak.”

Finn’s brain worked as always, turning ideas into shape and color, but part of him kept drifting back to Wren. Which was completely understandable. It wasn’t every day you met your mate.

“Perfect. I knew you were the right person to help me with this.” Alfie made a note, then shot Finn a sideways glance. “Speaking of the right person...how’d your consultation go yesterday?”

Finn nearly choked on his coffee. “What?”

“The landscaping job. Yesterday...” Alfie’s eyes narrowed as he searched Finn’s face, as if he could dig up the truth with a single look.

Finn tensed instinctively, looking away. He felt suddenly exposed, as if Alfie could see straight through him.

“Finn…”

Heat crept up Finn’s neck as he tried to keep his expression neutral. “Oh. It was...fine…”

If only he knew the truth, Finn’s bear said.

“Just fine?” Alfie’s eyebrows rose. “Because there’s something about you today.”

“There is?” Finn asked, his voice rising. He forced a smile, but his heart hammered; the urge to confess was almost overwhelming.

“There is.” Alfie tilted his head as if trying to read Finn’s thoughts.

I so want to tell him, Finn said.

I want to roar it from the highest mountain peak. His bear could barely contain his excitement. But a promise is a promise.

“I guess I’m excited about the fundraiser.” Finn shrugged and nodded toward Alfie’s clipboard. “Come on, it’s not going to organize itself.”

“No, it’s not.” Alfie’s brow furrowed.

Finn caught a flash of concern, maybe pity, maybe hope that Finn would finally find what his brothers already had. Maybe he should confide in Alfie…

Then relief washed through Finn as Alfie launched into details about catering costs and ticket prices. He hated lying to his brother—it felt wrong, like wearing someone else’s shoes—but he’d made a promise to Wren. To Mrs. Abernathy.

His bear grumbled unhappily. Families shouldn’t keep secrets.

But Wren wasn’t just anyone. She was his mate. And something about the wariness in her eyes made his need to protect her more important than anything.

Finn was the kind of man who always honored his promises where possible. But a promise to his mate was sacred. And until she gave him permission to share their connection with his family, he’d keep her secret.

They will understand, his bear said firmly.

They will, Finn agreed, because his family would know he was only trying to protect his mate.

“Whoa, you’re somewhere else entirely,” Alfie said, waving a hand in front of Finn’s face. “You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?”

Finn blinked. “Sorry, I was just thinking…”

“About?” Alfie asked with that look again.

The ache of not sharing gnawed at Finn. Would they forgive him for this, when the truth finally came out? Would they understand what it cost him?

Yes, his bear said firmly.

“I was thinking that we should also have a plant stall, since this is about growing things,” Finn said, covering himself smoothly, or so he hoped. However, his smile felt forced, and he caught himself gripping his coffee cup a little too tightly.

“Yes, it’s about growing the project and the community,” Alfie said, his gaze wistful. “I like it.” He jotted down a note on his clipboard.

Good save, his bear said.

For the next hour, Finn threw himself into garden planning with forced enthusiasm, sketching layouts and calculating material costs while Alfie outlined their fundraising strategy. By the time the sun had burned away the morning mist, they had a solid plan taking shape.

But part of Finn was always somewhere else, following an invisible thread that tugged at him from deep within his soul. And at the other end of that thread was Wren.

“This is going to be great,” Alfie said, clapping Finn on the shoulder. “The whole town will be talking about it.”

“It’s a good cause,” Finn agreed enthusiastically despite his distraction. “A way to strengthen the community and give more people access to growing their own food.”

Alfie grinned. “Always the idealist. That’s why I need you on this.”

They walked back toward the parking area, their breath still visible in the cool morning air.

“Okay, I’ll make some inquiries about the music and plant sales. Can you handle the tickets?” Alfie asked as they reached their trucks. “I’ll also get the family to help gather donations for the auction.”

“Sounds good.” Finn hesitated, guilt tugging at him. “Hey, Alfie?”

“Yeah?”

The words stuck in Finn’s throat. I met my mate. She’s staying at Mrs. Abernathy’s cottage in the mountains. She’s beautiful and scared, and I promised not to tell anyone about her.

A lump rose in his throat, making speech nearly impossible. He swallowed hard and managed to say, “Thanks for bringing me in on this.”

Alfie’s smile was easy, as always, but there was something else there. Pity. “Got to keep busy, huh?”

Oh no, he asked us to help because he felt sorry for us not having a mate, his bear said.

Damn, he felt like a fraud. The need to spill his secret was so intense, Finn had to take a gulp of his coffee and nearly choked.

“You okay there?” Alfie asked, clapping Finn on the back as he coughed and spluttered.

“Yes,” Finn croaked.

Good save, his bear said with more than a hint of sarcasm.

Thanks for the sympathy, Finn said as he finally took a breath without coughing.

“Take it easy,” Alfie said with a nod.

“Speak soon,” Finn said as he climbed into his truck, his throat burning.

The drive home was a blur of conflicting emotions. Guilt churned in his gut at the deception. He’d never lied to his family before, not about anything that mattered. The Thornbergs shared everything: joys, sorrows, secrets. Well, most anyway.

Now he was keeping the biggest secret of his life from them.

And the best, his bear said.

Definitely the best, Finn agreed as something prickled at the edge of his consciousness. He rolled down the window, letting the cold air sting his face, trying to clear the fog from his mind.

He shook his head as if trying to shake a thought loose. But it wasn’t a thought inside his head that was creating the strange sensation. It was something outside of him. And it wasn’t a thought at all.

It was real.

Our mate, his bear said happily.

Wren was close. Somewhere in the mountains.

His bear paced restlessly beneath his skin. Wanting to go to her. Wanting to make sure she was safe.

Finn gripped the steering wheel tighter, trying to focus on the road. But the sensation only intensified, like a humming vibration that seemed to resonate in his bones.

In his soul.

Each turn of the wheel seemed to bring him closer, the world narrowing to a single, unbreakable note: her .

By the time he pulled into his driveway, the urge was overwhelming. He needed to find her. To see her. To claim her.

Finn barely remembered to close his truck door before he was striding toward the trail that led from his cabin into the mountains. As he broke into a run, he let go of the world. The air crackled and popped as he disappeared, replaced a moment later by his bear.

He loped into the trees, powerful muscles carrying him swiftly up the mountainside. The forest welcomed him, branches parting as he followed the invisible thread that connected him to his mate. Birds scattered at his approach, and somewhere a deer froze in alarm, but Finn paid them no mind.

There was only the path ahead and the pull that guided him. As a bear, everything felt simpler, purer. His senses sang with purpose, with longing, with the need to be near her.

He finally found Wren as she walked along a narrow trail that wound along the eastern ridge. She walked slowly, but there was a restless energy about her, too, like someone trying to outpace their own thoughts.

Finn slowed, moving carefully through the underbrush until he was well ahead of her. Then he shifted back to his human form and stepped onto the path just ahead of her.

“Oh!” She startled, one hand flying to her throat. Recognition dawned in her eyes. “Finn?”

“Morning,” he said, smiling as naturally as he could manage when faced with the love of his life. “Fancy meeting you here.”

His bear chuckled as Finn winced at the cheesy comment.

“What are you doing all the way up here?” Her voice was husky, her shoulders slightly tense, but she couldn’t mask the spark of joy in her eyes. She liked that he was here.

And we love that she is here, his bear said.

“I live close by,” he gestured vaguely toward his cabin. “This is my regular morning hike. What about you? It’s pretty early to be out wandering.”

Wren shrugged, the dark circles under her eyes telling their own story. “I couldn’t sleep. Been up all night, actually.”

He wanted to chase away whatever haunted her, to banish it from her mind.

“Writing?” he guessed, remembering what Mrs. Abernathy had said about Wren’s album.

A small, surprised smile tugged at her lips. “Trying to. The words aren’t coming like they used to.”

For a second, he glimpsed something unguarded in her, pain, maybe, but also a fierce determination not to give up.

“So you thought a mountain hike might help?”

“Something like that.” She glanced around at the trees, their branches swaying gently in the morning breeze. “There’s a clarity up here. Like the air is... I don’t know, thinner? Cleaner? It helps clear my head.”

Finn nodded, understanding perfectly. “The mountains have their own kind of magic.”

He wanted to offer her all the words of comfort, but instead, he just let the silence stretch between them. Let their surroundings comfort her. As they had always comforted him.

“Yes.” Her smile widened, genuine pleasure lighting her tired eyes. “Exactly.”

She looked beautiful in the dappled morning light, with her hair falling loosely around her face as if trying to break free from her beanie. He wanted to tug the hat from her head and help her break free from whatever it was she was hiding from.

The idea that someone had hurt her made his bear want to curl protectively around her.

“Have you had breakfast?” he asked suddenly.

Wren blinked. “What?”

“Breakfast. Most important meal of the day and all that. So my mom always told me…” Had he really mentioned his mom?

His bear grumbled and lay down, covering his head with his paws as Finn winced inwardly. How could he sound both twelve and ancient at the same time?

Undeterred, he gestured toward his cabin. “I make a mean stack of pancakes. And the coffee’s good, too.”

Do not tell her it’s your mom’s special blend, his bear pleaded.

Wren hesitated, wariness flickering across her features. “I don’t want to impose,” she said, but her tone lacked conviction, and she covered her stomach as it rumbled.

“You wouldn’t be,” Finn said quickly. “I was heading back anyway, and honestly? I could use the company.”

Could she hear the tremor in his voice, filled with hope he could barely contain?

Wren studied his face, and Finn had the distinct impression she was weighing more than just his breakfast invitation. Whatever internal debate she was having, something in his expression seemed to tip the scales.

She took a deep breath, almost like someone about to dive into cold water. “Okay,” she said. “That sounds...nice.” There was a tremulous sweetness in her smile, and a hopefulness that sent a jolt through Finn’s chest.

Relief flooded through him, warm and unexpected. His bear lifted his head from his paws, suddenly alert and pleased.

“Great.” Finn tried not to sound too eager as he gestured down the trail. “It’s just a ten-minute walk from here.”

They fell into step beside each other, close enough that he caught the faint scent of her that made his mouth water and his bear practically purr.

As they walked, the morning air carried the sound of birdsong and the distant rush of water over stone, but Finn found himself more aware of the soft rhythm of Wren’s breathing and the occasional brush of her jacket against his arm.

He wanted to memorize every detail: the cadence of her laugh, the way she tilted her head when she listened, the melody of her voice when she finally let herself speak freely.

“So you live up here alone?” Wren asked as they navigated a particularly rocky section of trail.

“Yeah. I built the cabin myself, with the help of my brothers, about ten years ago.” He steadied her elbow as she stepped over a fallen branch, his fingers lingering perhaps a moment longer than necessary as he savored the shock of recognition that threaded through his veins.

For one heartbeat, the world stood still. As he locked eyes with her, he knew she felt it, too. And one day soon, he was going to tell her exactly what it meant.