His bear whined with disappointment.
She needs time,Christopher said as he trudged back to his truck.We can’t force this.
But time was the one thing they didn’t have. Sorcha would soon be gone, back to her life of constant travel and deadlines. How could he convince her to stay when she seemed determined to keep her distance?
The night air bit at his face as he drove to the office, his shift about to start. The familiar routine awaited—checking the generators, making rounds, ensuring the guests were safe and comfortable. Work that had always brought him satisfaction before now felt hollow. He’d much rather be with his mate.
But maybe work was exactly what he needed. It would give him a chance to process what had happened. A chance to take a breath and figure out his next move.
Christopher parked his truck and entered the warm office, the bell above the door jingling cheerfully despite his somber mood.
“There you are,” Gretel called from behind the desk. “I was beginning to think I’d be pulling a double shift.” Her gray hair was pulled back in its usual neat bun, her eyes sharp behind tortoiseshell glasses.
“Sorry,” Christopher said, hanging his coat on the rack. “Lost track of time.”
Gretel had been managing the front desk at Bear Creek Cabins longer than anyone could remember. Some joked she came with the property. She knew every inch of the place and every secret the guests brought with them.
“Everything’s been quiet today,” she reported, handing him the logbook. “The Wilsons in Cabin 5 needed extra firewood. There’s a branch hanging down behind the log store. Broke under the weight of all this snow. Then there’s just the usual…”
Christopher nodded, making mental notes. “I’ll take care of it all tonight.”
Gretel narrowed her eyes, studying his face with the intensity of someone who had spent decades reading people. “You look tired, Christopher. Everything all right?”
“I didn’t get much sleep,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair.
“You should take better care of yourself,” she chastised, gathering her coat and purse from under the desk. “These long hours aren’t good for anyone, shifter or not.”
Before he could respond, Gretel leaned in closer, her nostrils flaring slightly. A knowing smile spread across her face as she stepped back.
“A woman,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “So that’s why you didn’t get any sleep. You found your mate.”
Christopher couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. “There’s not much that doesn’t get past you, is there?”
“Well, I’ve worked here long enough and dealt with enough people to get a pretty good read on them,” Gretel said, buttoning her coat. “So who is she?”
Christopher’s gaze drifted past her to the window, where Cabin 7 was just visible through the trees, a warm light glowing in its windows.
“A guest!” Gretel exclaimed, following his line of sight. “Oh, the late arrival, what was her name?”
“Sorcha,” Christopher said, the name like honey on his tongue.
“Sorcha O’Neill,” Gretel repeated with something like reverence. “The reporter.”
“Yeah.” Christopher raked his hand through his hair again, unusually nervous.
“Ah, there lies the rub,” Gretel said with understanding. “She’s a travel writer, from what I recall.”
“She is,” Christopher agreed, the words tasting bitter.
Gretel nodded sagely. “So she’s only here for a couple of days and then she’s moving on to her next assignment.”
“She is,” Christopher agreed again, his shoulders slumping slightly.
Gretel slapped him good-naturedly on the arm. “Well, you had better figure out how to make her stay!”
Christopher smiled despite himself. “Any suggestions?”
“Show her what she’d be missing,” Gretel said, heading for the door. “Make her stay so special she can’t bear to leave.”
