Page 9 of The Bear’s Second Chance Mate (Bear Creek Forever: Thornberg Vineyard #5)

The kitchen smelled of tomato sauce and garlic bread, but June barely tasted her dinner. She couldn’t stop watching Oli, whose fork remained suspended halfway to his mouth as he described Clive’s feeding ritual for the third time.

“And then his tongue just…” Oli’s hand shot out, fingers splayed, “…zap! The worm disappeared. Stanley says his tongue is sticky, so the bugs can’t escape.”

“It was amazing,” June agreed, propping her chin on her hand.

“Amazing,” Barb echoed, slicing into her garlic bread with exaggerated care. “Who knew bearded dragons were such refined diners?”

June shot her a look, but Barb’s face was the picture of innocence. If innocence wore horn-rimmed glasses and a raised brow.

But June refused to let Barb get under her skin. Not tonight. Not when Oli had such a good time at the pet store.

The child seated across the table from her was a different child from the one who’d moved to Bear Creek three weeks ago.

That boy had barely spoken at dinner, picking at his food in silence, shoulders hunched against an invisible weight.

This boy’s eyes shone with enthusiasm. His words tumbled over each other, hands painting pictures in the air as he recreated every moment of their visit.

“Herbert recognized me,” Oli continued, finally taking a bite of his pasta. “Stanley said rabbits remember people by their smell. And the chinchilla… Remember how soft he looked? Stanley said they take dust baths. Can you believe that?”

“Stanley sure seems to know a lot about animals,” Barb said, glancing at June. However, June focused her attention on her plate.

“He knows everything ,” Oli declared with the absolute certainty of childhood. “He said next time I can hold Clive if I’m careful. Do you think we can go again soon? He said anytime.”

“I’m sure Stanley is a busy man,” Barb said. “And he does like waifs and strays.”

June’s jaw tightened. She knew Barb meant well, but she didn’t want her aunt planting seeds of doubt about Stanley’s motives. Not when her son was this happy.

“Stanley’s been very generous with his time,” June said carefully. “And Oli clearly benefits from being around the animals.”

“Oh, I’m sure he does,” Barb said, her tone light as she ate her dinner.

“So can we?” Oli asked.

“I’ll see what I can arrange,” she said as she took a sip of her spritzer.

She’d spent years watching Oli struggle to connect with teachers, with other children, with the world outside their carefully managed routines. How many times had she sat across from him at another table, watching him retreat further into himself?

Yet here he was, transformed by a single afternoon in a pet store.

Not by her. Despite everything she’d tried.

But by Stanley’s thoughtful kindness.

“You did so well today,” she said, pushing the thought away. “You stayed calm when you were handling the animals.”

Oli beamed, that rare, radiant smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I wasn’t even scared,” he said, his voice tinged with wonder at his own courage. “Well, maybe a little with Clive. But Stanley said it was okay to be nervous around new animals.”

“Stanley’s right,” June said, reaching across to squeeze his hand. “Being brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared. It means you try anyway.”

Barb made a sound that might have been a hum, or a snort, before sipping her spritzer and glancing out the window.

Oli nodded solemnly, then launched into a detailed explanation of guinea pig sounds and what each one meant. June listened, letting his joy wash over her, only to find Barb watching her over the rim of her glass.

“I’ll say one thing for the man,” Barb said dryly. “He certainly knows how to make an impression.”

June said nothing.

She didn’t need to.

Barb’s raised brow said it all.

She had no doubt Barb had something to say about their pet store visit, but thankfully, she kept it to herself as they ate the rest of their meal to the soundtrack of animal facts from Oli. And that suited June just fine.

“I’ll clean up,” Barb announced as they finished eating, then rose from her chair and gathered their empty plates. “You get the little one to bed.”

June nodded gratefully. “Come on, sweetheart. Time for bed.”

Oli followed her upstairs, his energy still buzzing despite the late hour. Even as he changed into his space-themed pajamas, his chatter continued unabated.

“And Stanley said that chinchillas can jump six feet high! That’s like…” he stretched his arms up as far as they would go, “…way up there. Do you think Herbert can jump that high?”

“I don’t know,” June said, smiling as she turned down his covers. “You’ll have to look it up.”

Oli climbed into bed but remained sitting up, hands still gesturing. “Did I tell you Stanley’s going to teach me how to hold Clive next time? He said I have to be very calm and move slowly.”

“You did,” June said, sitting on the edge of his bed. “I was really proud of you.”

Oli’s movements finally stilled. “Really?”

“Really.” She brushed the hair from his forehead. “You were brave and gentle and patient. All the things animals need.”

He fidgeted with the edge of his blanket. “Mom? Thank you for taking me to the pet store.”

June was surprised at Oli’s thanks. When he was this excited about something, he often forgot to say thank you. Her throat tightened with emotion.

“You don’t need to thank me,” she said softly. “I love seeing you happy.”

Oli settled back against his pillow, his excitement finally giving way to drowsiness. “I wish I could see Herbert every day. Do you think...” He hesitated, fingers twisting in the fabric. “If nobody comes for Herbert, could we maybe keep him? Or maybe another pet?”

June studied her son’s hopeful face. The usual answer hovered on her lips. The practical one about responsibility and space, and routine. But tonight, with his eyes so bright, she couldn’t bring herself to say it.

“Let’s see what happens. If Herbert’s owners come forward,” she said gently, “we’ll try to find a pet that works for us. I promise.”

Oli’s face lit up like a sunrise. He flung his arms around her neck, squeezing tight. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, Oli.” She hugged him back, savoring the rare, spontaneous embrace. “More than anything in the world.”

He released her and settled back, reaching for his stuffed bear , a well-worn friend named Professor Fuzzy. With solemn care, he tucked the bear under his arm, then gave him three pats on the head. Two kisses on its nose. One whispered secret in its ear that June always pretended not to hear.

June waited until he was finished, then smoothed the covers around him, tucking them just so—not too tight, not too loose. She rose and moved to the door, adjusting it to remain open exactly four inches. Not too open, not too closed. Just right.

The perfect amount to let in hallway light without being too bright .

“Goodnight, my brave explorer,” she whispered.

“Night, Mom,” he murmured, already drifting off to sleep.

She headed downstairs to find Barb standing at the counter, pouring amber liquid into two tumblers.

“Just one finger,” she said, handing June a glass with a knowing look. “Though you might need two tonight.”

June accepted the whiskey with a wry smile. “Thanks.”

“Your boy’s settled?” she asked as she put the bottle away.

“Finally. Still talking about the animals.” June took a small sip, the liquid warming her throat. “I haven’t seen him this excited in... I don’t know how long.”

Barb leaned against the counter, studying her over the rim of her glass. “He’s certainly taken a shine to Stanley Thornberg.”

Something in her tone made June’s shoulders tense. “He’s good with Oli. Patient.”

“Mmm.” Barb swirled her whiskey. “And how are you finding Mr. Thornberg?”

Heat crept up June’s neck. “He’s...nice.”

“Nice,” Barb repeated the word like it was a questionable diagnosis. “Your boy seems happier. More settled.”

“He is.”

“And you?”

June traced the rim of her glass. “What about me?”

“You seem...distracted. Since the pet store.” Barb’s gaze was steady, penetrating. “Getting attached, are we?”

“I’m just grateful he’s been kind to Oli,” June said, the words feeling hollow even as she spoke them.

Barb sighed and set her glass down with a soft thud. “June, honey. Remember why we came to Bear Creek? A fresh start. No complications.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?” Barb’s voice softened. “Because I see that look in your eyes. The same one you had with Daniel. Hoping. Seeing what you want to see. Even when you knew things would never work out.”

June’s throat tightened. “This isn’t like that.”

“Isn’t it?” Barb leaned forward. “I told you about the shifters here. About mates. If Stanley Thornberg were your mate, he’d know it. He’d have made a move. He wouldn’t be able to help himself.”

“Maybe it’s not that simple…”

“It is that simple,” Barb insisted gently. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. With shifters, there’s no gray area. No wondering. They know their mate the moment they meet them.”

June stared into her whiskey, the amber liquid reflecting the kitchen light.

“Don’t let yourself believe there’s something when there isn’t,” Barb continued. “You’ve been hurt enough.”

Old memories surfaced. Daniel’s voice, cold and final. I never signed up for this. For a kid who can’t even look me in the eye. The way he’d walked out without a backward glance, leaving her to explain to a five-year-old why his father wasn’t coming home.

“I’m just trying to protect you,” Barb said, finishing her whiskey in one swift motion. She set the glass in the sink and squeezed June’s shoulder. “Don’t stay up too late.”

June nodded, not trusting her voice. She listened to Barb’s footsteps fade up the stairs, then the soft click of her bedroom door.

As silence settled around June, the kitchen felt suddenly too confining. June took her whiskey and slipped outside onto the porch, the wooden boards cool beneath her bare feet.

Above, stars scattered across the sky, brighter than she’d ever seen them in the city. She sank into the porch swing and took another sip of whiskey, letting the quiet seep into her bones.

What if Barb was wrong? What if there was something between her and Stanley that defied explanation? The way he’d looked at her in the pet store, like he was seeing something precious, something worth protecting, had felt so real.

But what if Barb was right? What if she were just projecting her own lonely wishes onto a kind man who was simply good at his job?

June closed her eyes, swallowing against the tightness in her throat.

But then a strange sensation prickled across her skin. A feeling of being watched. Not in a threatening way, but in a way that felt...familiar. Like the moment in the pet store when Stanley had handed her that coffee, their fingers brushing, and her breath had caught in her chest.

She opened her eyes, scanning the darkness beyond the porch railing. Nothing moved in the shadows of Barb’s garden. Just the gentle sway of branches in the night breeze.

And yet...

The feeling persisted, warm and electric. Like a current humming just beneath her skin.

Maybe it was just the whiskey. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was the desperate wish not to be alone anymore.

But it felt real. Terrifyingly real.

And thrilling.

June took another sip. She wasn’t ready to go inside yet. Not with these thoughts spinning through her mind. Not with this inexplicable feeling making her heart race.

For just this moment, under the vast canopy of stars, she would allow herself to wonder. To hope. To imagine that maybe, just maybe, there was more to her relationship with Stanley Thornberg than met the eye.

And maybe, just maybe, just like the stars at night, soon it would all be revealed.