Page 7 of The Bear’s Matchmaking Mix-up Mate (Bear Creek Forever:Thornberg Vineyard #6)

This has to be one of the best mornings ever, Finn’s bear said.

I agree, Finn replied as he watched Wren lick sauce from her fingers.

“I think I’ve got salsa everywhere,” she confessed, grabbing another napkin to dab at the corner of her mouth. A smudge of avocado still clung to her lower lip, and Finn had to clench his fist to keep from reaching out to brush it away himself.

“Breakfast burritos aren’t meant to be eaten gracefully,” Finn said, wrestling with his own overstuffed creation. The spicy chorizo and eggs threatened to spill with each bite, but he couldn’t remember food ever tasting this good. “That’s how you know they’re worth eating.”

His bear rumbled contentedly. Perfect morning. Perfect mate. Perfect food.

Finn couldn’t help agreeing. Sitting here with Wren, sharing messy food and easy conversation felt so natural, as if they’d been doing this for years instead of days.

She’d let her guard down this morning. It was like she was letting him in, opening a door to her heart.

Her laughter came more freely while her eyes held his gaze longer.

It was like a hundred small victories rolled into one.

“You’ve got…” Wren gestured to his face, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Where?” Finn asked, swiping blindly at his cheek.

“No, other side.” She leaned forward, napkin in hand, and gently dabbed at the corner of his mouth. The simple touch sent electricity racing across his skin, and he caught the slight hitch in her breath that told him she’d felt it, too.

His bear practically purred at her touch. We’re winning her over. Soon you’ll be able to tell her the truth.

Finn nearly said something sappy, but bit down on it, not wanting to spoil the moment.

However, when Finn’s phone buzzed against the wooden table, it did just that. He reluctantly tore his gaze from Wren’s face to check the message.

It was from Philip. Hey Finn, can you do me a favor? The Ag Supply store just called to let me know the special fertilizer I ordered is in, and I need it picked up today. But everyone at the vineyard is tied up until late afternoon. Can you swing by and pick up? Thanks!

Is this another setup? he asked his bear, suspicion immediately prickling at the back of his neck.

His bear huffed. Every errand lately feels like a setup. Remember last week’s “emergency” at the coffee shop that just happened to coincide with the arrival of the new barista?

If only they knew the truth, Finn added wistfully. That we’ve already found our mate, sitting right here with salsa on her chin.

Wren reached across the table and brushed his wrist with gentle concern, sending tremors through his body. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just my brother Philip asking for a favor. He needs me to pick up a fertilizer order from the agricultural supply store.” Finn ran a hand through his hair, not wanting to cut his morning with Wren.

“No problem,” Wren said, but he could see her disappointment.

She doesn’t want this morning to end either , his bear said.

“I have an idea, Finn said.

You do? his bear asked.

“Okay,” Wren said, her expression guarded.

“The supply store is close to your godmother’s house. Why don’t you follow me there, and then we can go on to her house and check out the garden, before I take the fertilizer over to the vineyard.”

Wren’s expression brightened. “Sure. If you’re certain your brother can wait for the fertilizer.”

He can wait, Finn’s bear replied happily.

“Philip won’t mind. He was Mrs. Abernathy’s star pupil,” Finn said as he took another bite of his burrito.

Wren took a sip of her coffee, watching him over the rim. “She likes you, too, you know?”

“She does?” Finn could not keep the hope from his voice.

“She does,” Wren confirmed. “I can see it in the way she looks at you. Believe me, you would know if she didn’t.”

Finn leaned forward. “Don’t tell her, but I enjoyed her history lessons, even if I was not very good at keeping the dates straight.”

“Why wouldn’t you want her to know?” Wren asked.

“I don’t know,” Finn replied. “I guess it’s not something I’ve ever given much thought to. Damn, does this mean I’m still the same teenager who sat at the back of the class dreaming of being outside?”

“Oh no, you’re all man,” Wren laughed, then quickly covered her mouth. “That didn’t come out the way I meant. What I’m trying to say is, most of us feel that way—like we’ve never really grown up. I’m still the same girl who sat in music lessons, dreaming of people liking my songs…”

“Well, you succeeded,” Finn replied.

“And you didn’t?” Wren asked, tilting her head slightly. “I’m sure what you do—making beautiful spaces for people—brings them as much joy as one of my songs. It’s just that my songs reach a wider audience.”

“Maybe,” Finn said, though he wasn’t entirely convinced. His work felt small compared to her talent, her ability to reach millions with just her voice and a guitar. “I think what you do is more...lasting. Songs stay with people forever.”

Wren shook her head, a gentle smile playing at her lips. “You create places where families make memories, where children play, where people find peace. That’s pretty lasting, too.”

“That’s...probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about my work.” He’d never thought about his work that way before, but hearing it through her eyes made it feel more meaningful somehow.

She sees us differently than we see ourselves, his bear observed. She sees our worth.

And we see hers , Finn replied.

Maybe that was why fate had brought them together, so that they could hold up a mirror to each other, one that reflected not just who they were, but who they could be.

“Ready to go?” Finn asked, reluctantly gathering their empty wrappers. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed breakfast this much, even with the impending errand.

“Let me help,” Wren said, reaching for the trash.

Their fingers brushed, and that now-familiar spark danced between them. Finn’s bear basked in the sense of connection they shared.

As they walked back to their cars, Finn felt a strange reluctance to separate, even knowing they’d be following each other. “I’ll lead the way,” he said, pointing to his truck. “It’s not far.”

“I’ll be right behind you,” Wren promised, and his bear rumbled with satisfaction at the words.

Finn nodded, already hating the few minutes they’d be apart. “It’s just down Main and left at the old mill. Can’t miss it.”

I wish she were riding with us, his bear grumbled. She belongs by our side.

She does, Finn agreed as he watched her climb into her car before reluctantly heading to his truck, hyperaware of her presence behind him as they pulled out of the lot. In his rearview mirror, he could see her following, and something primal and possessive stirred in his chest at the sight.

The agricultural supply store came into view all too soon, its weathered sign creaking slightly in the morning breeze. Finn parked and waved to Wren as she pulled in beside him, then headed inside to collect Philip’s order.

The familiar smell of straw and engine oil greeted him, along with the earthy scent of seed and soil. Shelves stacked with garden tools and farm supplies lined the walls, and sacks of feed created a maze through the center of the store.

“Morning, Jim,” Finn called to the owner, who nodded from behind the counter. “I’m here to pick up an order for Thornberg Vineyard. Philip said it would be ready?”

“Sure thing,” Jim replied, disappearing into the back room. “Just give me a minute to find it.”

Finn browsed absently, mentally cataloging items he might need for Mrs. Abernathy’s garden, when a familiar voice called his name—one that made his shoulders tense immediately.

“Finn Thornberg! I thought that was you.”

He turned to find Donna Harding approaching, her blonde hair perfectly styled despite the early hour, her smile wide and predatory in a way that made his bear retreat with a grumble.

“Donna,” he managed, forcing politeness into his tone. “How are you?”

“Better now,” she said, stepping closer than necessary, her perfume almost overwhelming.

His bear recoiled. Not our mate.

“I haven’t seen you around much lately,” Donna said accusingly as she fluttered her eyelashes at him.

Finn took a subtle step back. “Been busy with work. I’ve only stopped by now to pick up the fertilizer for the vineyard.”

“Ah, the gorgeous Thornberg Vineyard,” Donna said, leaning in. “You know, I’ve always wanted a private tour. I bet you know all the best...spots.” The last word dripped with suggestion that made his collar feel suddenly tight.

I don’t think it’s just the vineyard she’d like a private tour of, his bear grumbled.

“We do offer tours on Saturdays,” Finn said, deliberately misunderstanding. “The public ones are really comprehensive.”

Donna laughed too loudly, reaching out to touch his arm. “Oh, you. I meant something more...exclusive.” Her fingers trailed down to his biceps, squeezing appreciatively. “You’ve been working out, haven’t you?”

Finn’s face burned as he tried to extricate himself without being rude. “I should check on that order.” He glanced toward the window, mortified at the thought that Wren might be watching.

“No rush,” Donna purred, her hand somehow finding its way to his abs, which she patted with obvious approval. “Jim always takes forever. We have time to catch up. I hear all your brothers have found their mates. You must get lonely being the only single one…”

His bear writhed in discomfort. Make her stop touching us! Only our mate should touch us like this!

“No, I have plenty to fill my time.” Finn stepped back, bumping into a display of garden gloves. “Actually, I’m in kind of a hurry. I’ve got someone waiting for me.”

Donna’s perfectly plucked eyebrows rose. “Oh? Anyone I know?” Her eyes narrowed slightly, scanning the store as if she might spot his companion.

The thought of Donna meeting Wren—of those calculating eyes assessing his mate—made Finn’s stomach clench. “Just a client,” he blurted. “Garden consultation.”

Before Donna could respond, Jim emerged with a large bag of specialized fertilizer. “Found it! Philip ordered it in specially, and it was at the bottom of the pallet.”

“Thanks, Jim,” Finn said with genuine relief. He could not wait to get out of there. “Is it on the vineyard account?”

“Sure is.” Jim glanced from Finn to Donna and raised an eyebrow. “Anything else we can do for you today, Finn?”

“No, that’s everything, thanks, Jim.” Finn grabbed the fertilizer bag, hefting it onto his shoulder. “Good to see you, Donna,” he lied, already backing toward the door. “Have a great day.”

“Don’t forget about that private tour!” she called after him, loud enough that several other customers turned to look.

Finn muttered a noncommittal response and hustled out of the store, his ears burning. The cool morning air was a blessed relief after the stifling interaction.

This is exactly what happens every time our brothers meddle, his bear complained.

We don’t know Philip was meddling, Finn reminded him, but his bear was not in the mood for appeasement.

We really need to tell our meddling brothers about Wren, his bear muttered. Then maybe they’d stop throwing other females at us.

I think Donna would be happy to throw herself at us, Finn told his bear as he loaded the fertilizer into the bed of his truck, then pulled out his phone to text Philip a quick “got it” before sliding into the driver’s seat.

He glanced over at Wren’s car, where she sat watching him with an expression he couldn’t quite read.

Had she seen Donna’s hands on him? The thought made him cringe. He wanted to explain, to assure Wren that he had no interest in anyone but her, but the words felt too big, too soon. They were still building this fragile thing between them, and he was terrified of pushing too hard, too fast.

Instead, he started his truck and gave her a smile he hoped conveyed everything he couldn’t say.

As they pulled out of the parking lot toward Mrs. Abernathy’s cottage, Finn couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, a subtle change in the air, like the first hint of a storm brewing on the horizon.

All he could hope was that he wasn’t about to be struck down by lightning.