Page 15 of The Bear’s Second Chance Mate (Bear Creek Forever: Thornberg Vineyard #5)

“Mommy, do you think Herbert can see the stars from his hutch?” Oli asked, his face pressed against the cool glass of his window. He was supposed to be in bed five minutes ago, but the excitement of the day still buzzed through him like electricity.

“I think he’s probably more interested in his hay right now,” she said, crossing the room to stand beside him. “Remember what Stanley said about rabbits being most active at dawn and dusk?”

Oli nodded solemnly, his breath fogging the window as he stared out at the shadowy garden. “I can just see his hutch. Do you think he’s afraid of the dark? Do you think he needs a nightlight?”

June placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Not at all. Rabbits are used to living outside. And he knows he’s safe. Stanley built that hutch perfectly, and you put in all his favorite things. Herbert’s probably having sweet rabbit dreams right now.”

“About what?” Oli asked, his voice small as he continued to stare out into the darkness.

“Hmm.” June pretended to consider this seriously. “Carrots. Fresh spring grass. Maybe about his new friend, who gave him the softest bedding in Bear Creek.”

That earned her a smile, just a flicker in the moonlight, but enough. She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Come on, bedtime for real now. Herbert will still be there in the morning.” She let her hand drop from his shoulder and took a step toward the bed.

Oli lingered a moment longer, then turned and ran to his bed and jumped under the covers.

June tucked the covers around him, making sure they weren’t too tight, just the way he liked them.

He reached for Professor Fuzzy, his well-worn teddy bear, and went through his nightly ritual.

Three pats on the bear’s head. Two kisses on its nose.

One whispered secret in its ear that June pretended not to hear.

“Goodnight, my brave explorer,” she whispered, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

“Night, Mom,” he murmured, eyes already drifting closed.

June backed away slowly, pulling the door until it was exactly four inches ajar. Not too open, not too closed. Just right. She stood there for a moment, watching the rise and fall of his chest, marveling at how peaceful he looked. How at home.

In the quiet of the hallway, her mind drifted back to earlier that evening.

Stanley was standing in the driveway, the porch light catching in his eyes as he’d leaned toward her.

The way her heart had hammered against her ribs when she’d felt his breath on her cheek.

How desperately she’d wanted him to close that final distance between them.

And he would have if Oli hadn’t called out.

June touched her fingers to her lips, imagining the almost-kiss that had left her dizzy with wanting. There had been something in Stanley’s eyes, something deep and knowing that had reached inside her and touched a place she’d kept carefully guarded.

She made her way downstairs, her thoughts still tangled in the memory of Stanley’s nearness. Without realizing it, she began to hum, a soft, meandering tune she didn’t recognize but somehow knew.

“Well, well,” Barb’s voice cut through her reverie.

June looked up to find her aunt leaning against the kitchen doorway, an empty mug dangling from her fingers and one eyebrow raised in unmistakable amusement.

“What?” June asked, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.

Barb said nothing, just held her gaze with a look that spoke volumes. You know, and I know you know.

June couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face.

She didn’t say it out loud; she didn’t need to.

Stanley was her mate. How else could she explain the way she felt when she was near him?

The instant connection, the soul-deep recognition, the sense of rightness that settled over her whenever he was close.

She moved to the sink and began rinsing the dinner dishes, trying to appear casual despite the warmth flooding through her at the mere thought of him.

“Go,” Barb said simply, placing her mug in the sink.

June’s hands stilled under the running water. “What?”

“I’ll watch your boy.” Barb nodded toward the door.

“Go where?” June asked, though something in her already knew the answer.

Barb gave her a dry look. “You know where.”

Her voice softened then, surprising June. “If you wait too long, you’ll overthink it. Trust what’s in front of you. Trust what is in your heart.”

June hesitated, water dripping from her fingertips. Only days ago, Barb had warned her away from Stanley, had cautioned her about shifters and mates and getting her hopes up. But now, this felt like permission. Maybe even her blessing.

“Are you sure?” she asked quietly.

“Am I ever not sure?” Barb countered, but there was no edge to her words. “Go on. Before I change my mind.”

June nodded, murmuring a quiet, “Thanks,” as she dried her hands and headed upstairs to change. Her heart raced as she pulled on a soft sweater and ran a brush through her hair. Was she really doing this? Driving to Stanley’s cabin in the middle of the night?

Yes. Yes, she was.

“I’ll send you a pin,” Barb said as June came back downstairs.

“Thanks.” She dared not look at Barb, afraid she might change her mind.

Instead, she pulled open the door, ran to her car, and started the engine. Soon, Barb’s house disappeared from view, and she gripped the steering wheel as her car climbed higher into the mountains, each bend bringing her closer to Stanley.

And then, between the trees, she saw it, Stanley’s cabin, like something from a storybook. Wood smoke curled from the chimney, and soft lights strung across the front porch cast a golden glow against the darkness. It was beautiful. Welcoming. As if it had been waiting for her all along.

June’s heart beat faster as she parked and cut the engine. The silence of the mountain night wrapped around her as she stepped out, the air cool and scented with pine. She made her way up the path, gravel crunching beneath her boots.

Before she could knock, the door opened and Stanley stepped out, surprise and hope written across his features. The golden light from inside haloed him, catching in his dark hair and warming his skin. He was beautiful.

“Hi,” she said, suddenly shy. What if she got this all completely wrong?

He smiled, just a little. And that smile gave her confidence. Gave her reassurance. “Hi.”

They stood there for a moment, the night air humming between them.

“I hope it’s not too late,” she added when he didn’t speak.

“No,” he blurted. “No, it’s…” He seemed to search for words. “Do you want to come in?”

June nodded, and he stepped aside, the warmth from inside washing over her as she crossed the threshold. She stopped just inside, delighted by what she saw.

The cabin was cozy, all warm wood and soft lighting, but it was the inhabitants that made her smile.

Pets were everywhere. A sleepy orange cat dozed in a wicker basket near the woodstove.

A bright-feathered parrot muttered quietly to itself in a spacious cage by the window.

And sprawled across a worn rug before the fire were three dogs of various sizes and breeds, all looking up at her with curious eyes and thumping tails.

Stanley moved past her, scratching behind the ear of a scruffy gray mutt that had risen to greet them. “I am not good at saying no,” he muttered, a hint of embarrassment coloring his voice. “And they seem to know it.”

June laughed, charmed by this glimpse into his life. “They have good taste.”

Stanley turned to her, meeting her gaze. “You think so?”

“I do,” she replied softly.

They stood there, transfixed. The firelight flickered between them, casting warm shadows across the walls. For a breathless moment, neither moved.

Then Stanley cleared his throat, his voice suddenly shy. “Tea?”

June nodded. “Yes, please.”

He led her to the kitchen, where another cat dozed on a kitchen chair tucked under the table. The space was simple but inviting, with hand-thrown mugs on open shelves, a row of herb jars, and a dish towel embroidered with foxes draped over the oven handle.

As he moved around the kitchen, filling the kettle and reaching for mugs, June watched him, the effortless grace of his movements, the careful way he selected tea leaves from a wooden box.

And suddenly, with perfect clarity, she knew.

She wasn’t just visiting a place.

She was already home.