Page 11 of Grin and Bear It

Kalyna’s soft laugh drew their attention. “Your sister reminds me of Rust’s friend Hezron—equally determined to protect those they care about from making mating mistakes.”

“I don’t need protection,” Artair insisted. “I’m perfectly capable of evaluating potential mates myself.”

Jash snorted. “Says the bear who dated Victoria for six months without realizing she was allergic to honey.”

“She hid it well,” Artair muttered defensively.

“She carried an EpiPen labeled ‘FOR HONEY EMERGENCIES’ in her purse,” Bryn countered. “You’re brilliant at business and hopeless at relationships. Accept your limitations, brother dear.”

Before Artair could respond, Matilda Honeysage appeared at their table, carrying a tray of fresh pastries. The bakery owner’s hazel eyes glowed with subtle fae magic as she set down a honey-glazed bear claw in front of Artair.

“On the house,” she said with a knowing smile. “Heard you’ve got a compatibility dinner tonight. My grandmother tried those on me eighty years ago—complete disaster. Found my mate while arguing over the price of enchanted sugar at the Monthly Moonlight Market instead.”

“Does everyone in this town know my personal business?” Artair asked no one in particular.

“Pretty much,” Jash confirmed cheerfully. “Agatha Plumthorn was in here earlier, taking bets on whether you’d actually show up or conveniently develop a business emergency.”

Artair checked his watch and sighed. “As entertaining as this intervention has been, I need to leave if I’m going to be on time.”

“Remember,” Bryn said as he stood, “I’ve hidden your favorite honey stash in the pantry behind Grandma’s quinoa jars. For emotional support.”

Despite himself, Artair felt a surge of affection for his sister and friends. Their meddling, while occasionally irritating, came from genuine concern. He nodded his thanks, taking the bear claw to go.

“One last piece of advice,” Kalyna offered as he turned to leave. “The right mate won’t be someone who fits neatly into the life you’ve planned. They’ll be the one who makes you question everything you thought you wanted—in the most wonderful, terrifying way.”

Her words followed Artair as he drove through the twilight streets toward his grandmother’s house on the edge of town. The grand Victorian home where he and Bryn had grown up after their parents’ death stood as a testament to bear clan prosperity—three stories of solid craftsmanship surrounded by ancient oak trees and meticulously maintained gardens.

As he parked, Artair noticed the Stoneclaw family’s vehicle—a practical SUV that somehow perfectly embodied Emily’s sensible, unimaginative personality. He sat for a moment, straightening his tie and mentally preparing for the evening ahead.

His bear stirred restlessly beneath his skin, uncomfortable with the artifice of these arranged meetings. The animal understood mating in simpler, more instinctive terms—a recognition that transcended clan politics and social convenience.

For a brief moment, Artair allowed himself to imagine what Rust, Kalyna, and Bryn had described—a mate who challenged him, who disrupted his carefully ordered existence, who saw beyond the corporate facade to the man and bear beneath. Someone unexpected. Unpredictable. Perhaps even inconvenient.

The thought both terrified and exhilarated him.

Drawing a deep breath, Artair stepped out of his car and approached his grandmother’s front door. Whatever compatibility stations and matchmaking schemes awaited inside, he would endure them with stoic patience. But perhaps, for the first time, he would do so while acknowledging the truth to himself:

He didn’t want a suitable match. He wanted his true mate. And deep in his bones, in the primal instinct of his bear, he sensed that when that meeting came, it wouldn’t be amid the careful orchestration of clan traditions.

THIRTEEN

The Ducati Monster purred beneath Thora as she navigated the winding mountain road, her body leaning into each curve with practiced precision. She’d abandoned the GPS fifteen minutes ago after it kept insisting she turn around, leaving her to follow the handwritten directions from Clemmins.

“When the road forks, take the path that doesn’t make sense.”

What kind of directions were those?

She slowed at the split in the road, engine rumbling impatiently. The left path continued smooth and well-maintained toward what looked like a normal mountain town in the distance. The right fork appeared to dead-end at an impenetrable wall of ancient trees and tangled undergrowth.

“Doesn’t make sense, huh?” Thora muttered, eyeing the seemingly impassable right fork.

With a resigned sigh, she steered toward it, bracing for impact with the foliage. Instead, the wall of greenery shimmered like a desert mirage, parting to reveal a cobblestone road that hadn’t existed seconds before. A tingling sensation washed overher skin as she passed through—magic recognizing something in her blood, permitting entry.

The narrow road wound through towering trees draped with luminous moss that pulsed with faint internal light. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in dappled patterns, creating an otherworldly glow. The very air smelled different here—crisp pine mingled with something sweet and earthy, underlying notes of magic giving it a distinctive fizz in her nostrils.

When the forest finally opened up, Thora slowed her motorcycle to a halt, momentarily stunned by the sight before her.

Enchanted Falls spread across a gentle valley, a patchwork of architectural whimsy that defied conventional design. Pastel cottages with thatched roofs stood alongside rustic log cabins and elegant Victorian homes, all somehow blending into a cohesive whole. In the center of town, a clock tower stretched skyward, its face changing colors with the passing minutes. Beyond the buildings, visible through gaps in the structures, a waterfall cascaded down a distant cliff, shrouded in iridescent mist.

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