Page 30 of The Bear's Matchmaking Mix-up Mate
Imagine her in our kitchen,his bear suggested as Finn checked the drainage in Mrs. Henderson’s garden.Imagine her at the table, a cat in her lap, writing music while we make her tea.
I’m trying to work here,Finn muttered, finding the image far too distracting.
Imagine her everywhere,his bear continued dreamily.Imagine her singing just for us. Imagine waking up next to her every morning.
Finn nearly fell headfirst into a rosebush, catching himself just in time. “Focus,” he told himself sternly, but his bear just laughed.
By the time he finished his second appointment, Finn’s jeans were mud-streaked and his hands smelled of earth and growth, but he couldn’t have cared less. He barely noticed the soreness in his back because his mind focused only on what came next.
Wren.
He drove home with the windows down, singing along to the radio. Wren’s most recent album, which he’d downloaded the day after meeting her.
You sound terrible,his bear teased.
I don’t care,Finn shot back as he belted out the next song.
At home, Finn showered quickly, changing into clean jeans and his favorite blue button-down. He ran a hand through his damp hair, debating whether to trim his beard, but decided against it. He checked himself in the mirror, hoping Wren would see someone she could trust, maybe even someone she could love.
Back in his truck, he found himself switching radio stations as he approached Rowan Cottage. He couldn’t risk being caught fanboying over her own song.
His bear snickered.I’d be more worried about her hearing you sing.
Nothing could dent Finn’s happiness as he pulled up to the cottage, and then the door opened, and Wren stepped out. She looked like spring personified with her hair loose around her shoulders, a soft green sweater making her eyes shine like sunlit leaves. And her smile…well, her smile nearly stopped his heart.
She looked so much brighter than when he’d last seen her outside Mrs. Abernathy’s. As if her songwriting had healed her soul and made her whole.
“Hey,” she said, climbing into the passenger seat. The nearness of her made his mouth water.
“Hey, yourself,” Finn managed, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. “You look happy.”
Happy? She is glowing,his bear said.As bright as the summer sun.
“I wrote a song last night,” she confessed, buckling her seatbelt. “I think I finally got my mojo back.”
She’s given us our mojo, too,his bear said proudly.
Finn smiled, wishing he could tell her he’d heard her song, and it was amazing. “That’s wonderful,” he said.
“It kind of is,” she said wistfully. “And I can’t wait to see your family’s vineyard.”
“And I cannot wait to show it to you,” Finn said and put the truck in drive.
They drove through rolling hills, the road winding between budding trees and meadows dotted with wildflowers. When they crested the final hill and the vineyard spread before them—rows of vines stretching toward distant mountains, the hacienda-style main house gleaming white in the sun—Wren’s breath caught audibly.
“Wow,” she whispered, leaning forward in her seat. “It’s beautiful.”
“It is,” Finn agreed. “I haven’t lived here for years, but it always feels like home.”
“I can see why,” Wren replied as Finn went around the back of a storage barn where they were less likely to be seen.
“Come on, I’ll give you the tour.” He hopped out of the truck and went around to the passenger door, and cracked it open. But Wren didn’t move.
“I forgot to bring a hat.” She pressed her lips into a thin line.
Without comment, Finn ducked back to the cab and grabbed a spare cap, handing it to her. “Here,” he said. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you know if anyone is around.”
Her grateful smile, tinged with mischief, made his heart leap. She slipped the cap on, the brim shadowing her eyes, and Finn thought he’d never seen anything lovelier. “What? Do you have Spidey senses or something?”
