Page 2 of Honey for the Bear

Yet something about him draws me in—something in the way he carries himself, like he’s bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders but refuses to let it crush him.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur of customers and chatter, but Cameron lingers in the back of my mind like a shadow I can’t quite shake.

***

Bynoon,themarketis in full swing, and I’m busy chatting with a young couple about the difference between clover honey and wildflower honey when I feel a strange prickling sensation on the back of my neck.

It’s the kind of feeling you get when someone’s watching you.

I glance up, my eyes scanning the crowd, but I see no sign of anyone staring.

Shaking off the feeling, I return to the couple, handing them a jar of wildflower honey and wishing them a good day.

But the sensation doesn’t go away.

By the time the market starts winding down in the early afternoon, I’m exhausted.My feet ache from standing, and my cheeks hurt from smiling, but I feel a sense of satisfaction from a good day’s work.

As I start packing up the stand, I catch myself glancing toward the woods at the edge of Maplewood Grove—the same woods where Cameron’s cabin supposedly lies.

What’s his story?

The thought comes unbidden, and I shake my head, scolding myself for being so nosy.Cameron has made it clear that he values his privacy, and it’s not my place to pry into his life.

Yet I can’t help but wonder.

A part of me—an annoyingly curious part—wants to know what lies behind those stormy gray eyes.What secrets he’s hiding.

I sigh, stacking the last jar of honey into a crate and loading it into the back of my truck.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” I mutter to myself, climbing into the driver’s seat and starting the engine.

As I pull away from the market, the image of Cameron’s face lingers in my mind, his unreadable expression and the quiet tension that seems to follow him wherever he goes.

I tell myself it’s none of my business.

But deep down, I know I won’t stop wondering.

Chapter 2

Cameron

Thegravelcrunchesundermy boots as I leave the farmers market.The bag in my hand feels heavier than it should for just one jar of honey.I know I don’t need any more.I’ve got enough jars piled on my counter to last a lifetime.But the honey isn’t the reason I keep coming back.

It’s her—Hannah.

I glance back over my shoulder once, instinctively, as if she might still be standing there, watching me.But the market is bustling, and her honey stand is already surrounded by customers.She’s probably smiling, laughing, and chatting with them like she always does.She has this way of making everyone around her feel like they belong.Like they matter.

I don’t belong.

And I sure as hell don’t matter.

The bag folds in my grip as I tighten my fist, forcing my eyes forward.The walk back to my cabin stretches out before me, the dirt road winding through the trees that edge Maplewood Grove.It’s a long way to go for something I don’t need, but I couldn’t stop myself.

I never can when it comes to her.

My bear stirs inside me, restless and agitated.It’s been that way ever since I met her.Every time I see her, it gets harder to keep the beast under control.It claws at me, demanding I do something reckless—something stupid.

Like claim her.

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