Page 7 of Stout Bear

The word repeated in his mind like a primal drumbeat. His inner bear roared at him to claim her, yet her hesitance kept him from pushing too hard. After thinking he’d lost Hydro Girl forever, she had literally fallen at his feet.

Max understood timing and fate. His bear recognized her immediately, even before his human side made the connection to the dating profile—that instinctive recognition that shifters experienced when meeting their destined partners.

He composed himself, clearing his throat to maintain a professional tone. The animal inside him wanted to howl with joy at finding her, but the human man knew he needed to respect her boundaries.

“I understand you’re not ready to talk about... us. Tell me more about this water analysis,” Max said, his voice low.

He couldn’t lose his mate after having just met her. The pull toward her felt magnetic, creating an almost physical ache to make her his.

“Yes. Thank you,” she said, brushing a lock of curly auburn hair behind her ear. “I’ve found some trace chemical residue in your sample, and I believe I should do further testing.”

Laney spread out her reports on the table, flipping pages to show lab results. Max leaned in, scanning the data.

“The chemical residues are subtle. But if not addressed, they could build up and potentially cause adverse health effects,” Laney said, her voice soft but focused.

“That makes sense,” he said, understanding dawning. “My brews have been getting progressively worse.”

The timing was catastrophic. It was less than two weeks before thousands of visitors would descend on Fate Mountain to taste their signature beers. He felt a twinge of guilt that he had ignored the warning signs with the first off batch. Max closed the file and squared his shoulders. He looked Laney directly in the eye, his tone shifting from anxious to decisive.

“I understand your holding tank is fed by a spring?”

“Yes. It’s piped in from up the mountain.”

“I should collect samples from the source to pinpoint where the contamination starts.”

“I can take you up there tomorrow morning,” he said, his inner grizzly purring at the idea of spending alone time with her.

Laney bit her lip, looking concerned. “All right. Tomorrow morning, then,” Laney finally said.

Max sensed her lingering uncertainty, noticing the slight tremble in her fingers as she adjusted the pages of her report. Her guarded demeanor intrigued him. What made this alluring,brilliant woman so hesitant to acknowledge what they both clearly felt?

“Meet me here at eight. We’ll drive up to the pumphouse and then hike to the spring,” Max said.

“Okay,” she said, handing him the folder of water data. “Keep these for your records.”

“I really appreciate you bringing this to me,” Max said.

“I’m just doing my job. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Laney replied. She shouldered her bag, preparing to leave.

He couldn’t wait to see her again. His bear sang internally at the thought of spending hours in her company. The situation was serious. Contaminated water threatened everything his family had built, but at least it gave him a legitimate reason to be near her.

Laney made her way to the exit, pausing briefly to glance back. Max watched her move, his body still thrumming with the mate-pull. Through the large windows, he tracked her progress across the parking lot until she got into her car and drove away.

Chapter

Nine

Max walked backinto his office, shutting the door behind him with a decisive click. He glanced at the folder of water data Laney left behind. She had come to him with evidence that something serious was affecting their water supply, and his mind wrestled with the implications. Their entire brand centered around the unique mineral profile that came from their mountain spring.

Max picked up one of the charts Laney had left behind, studying the spike in chemical compounds that had no place in pristine mountain spring water. His fingers tightened on the paper as he considered how to handle this crisis without alarming his family or their customers.

The door burst open without warning. Gwen, Liv, and Noah charged into the office, slamming the door behind them. The family resemblance intensified when they were upset, all three sharing the same crease between their eyebrows that Max recognized from their father.

“Max, why didn’t you tell us the batches were going bad?” Gwen asked, her voice piercing the quiet of the office.

“Do you realize how this affects our bottom line? Dumping these batches sets us back thousands in just one week,” Noah said, anxious, tapping figures on his screen.

“I’ll need to change some of our festival marketing if we can’t serve the seasonal brews. That means rush orders... extra costs,” Gwen said.

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