Page 9 of The Bear's Mail Order Mate

“Wow,” she breathed, stepping carefully between the stacked barrels. “This is incredible. It’s bigger than I expected.”

Kris let out a short laugh. “We have very fertile soil here. My brother, Philip, works alongside my parents to enrich the land,” he said, following a step behind her. “Which means we’ve increased our harvests year on year.”

“Is he the one responsible for the ad?” she asked.

“No,” Kris lowered his gaze. “That would be my brother, Finn.”

“How many brothers do you have?” she said, turning to face him.

“Five,” he replied.

“Five.” She nodded slowly. “And do they all work here at the vineyard?”

“No. Just me and Philip. But I’m sure you’ll meet the rest of them sooner or later.” Kris placed his hand on the nearest barrel. He felt a brief pang at the thought of how quickly word would spread among his siblings once they heard about Cassia. He wasn’t ready to share her with them yet. “Some of these barrels have been aging for months, some for years. Each batch is unique. The slightest difference in the grape’s growing conditions can alter the result.”

“I love that about wine,” Cassia said as she moved to stand by his side. “It’s never just science. It’s artistry. Intuition. Heart.” A faint pink blush covered her cheeks, as though she felt self-conscious about showing her passion so openly.

Kris’s heart gave a traitorous little flip.Intuition. Heart.That was exactly it. Wine, for him, was a language. But right now, he was lost for words.

She gets it,his bear growled in delight.Our mate gets us.

“Yeah,” he finally managed, his voice almost a whisper. “Exactly.”

Silence settled over them, broken only by the quiet hum of the cooling system. Kris drew a slow breath, inhaling the sweet oak and fruit-laced air to steady himself. He needed to address the elephant in the room.

The fact that the ad was never supposed to be real,his bear reminded him.

And it was right. The idea of opening a restaurant at the vineyard had come from Uncle Thaddeus, who ran a successful restaurant in Bear Creek. But it remained just that—an idea.

Until now,his bear said.Because if we want Cassia to stay, we might have to make the restaurant a reality.

Oh boy. This is going to take some explaining to our parents,Kris said wryly.

“These barrels are amazing,” Cassia said. “And it must take patience to give the wine time to mature. You must be a patient man.”

You have no idea,his bear said gruffly.We’ve waited a lifetime for our mate to arrive.

Kris parted his lips to speak, but the sight of her peering up at the barrels, that subtle wonder lighting her face, stopped him. Her eyes shone with enthusiasm and a dash of excitement. He couldn’t crush that by telling her this was a mistake. Somehow, he had to make it work. But how?

“I think we need to talk about the job,” he said, gesturing for them to head back toward the tasting area. “I realize there’s some confusion, and I want to clear it up.”

She nodded, lips pressed into a line that betrayed her tension. “All right.”

They walked back to the main tasting room, more open and airy. Kris paused at a small wooden table near a wide picture window overlooking the vines. He motioned for Cassia to sit. She perched on the edge of the chair, her earlier enthusiasm replaced by uncertainty.

Does she think we’ve been toying with her?his bear asked.

Possibly,Kris said.But we’d never be that cruel. Especially not to our mate.

Kris set about grabbing a couple of glasses. Then he pulled one of his favorite bottles from a nearby rack—a classic Thornberg Vineyard Merlot, something approachable yet expressive.Confidence, be confident,his bear told him.

I’m trying,Kris said, forcing a small smile as he popped the cork.

“The best way to see what we do is to taste what we do,” he said, pouring for them both. “This is one of our staple wines, and I’m…proud of it.”

He caught the slight arch of her eyebrow, as though she were still bracing for bad news. Setting the bottle aside, he lifted his own glass, swirling the wine gently.

She followed suit, bringing the glass to her nose. “Mmm,” she hummed, closing her eyes to focus on the bouquet. “Ripe plums, a hint of cedar…there’s a nice chocolatey undertone, too.”

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