As they pulled away from Bear Creek Cabins, following a recently plowed access road, Sorcha tried to redirect her thoughts to the task at hand. This article was important—a feature piece for Wanderlust Magazine’s special winter edition. Her editor had specifically requested something that captured the essence of an authentic mountain Christmas, and Bear Creek had all the elements: natural beauty, small-town charm, and a range of winter activities.
“So you’re writing about Bear Creek?” Christopher asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them. “What kind of angle are you taking?”
“I’m focusing on destinations that offer authentic winter experiences,” she replied, grateful for the professional topic. “Places that capture the essence of the season without the commercial excess.”
“You’ve come to the right place, then,” Christopher said, navigating a gentle curve in the road. “Bear Creek doesn’t do anything halfway, especially at Christmas.”
The road descended through a corridor of snow-laden pines before opening to reveal the valley below. Sorcha gasped at the view of the small town nestled in the crook of the mountains, smoke rising from chimneys, the central square already visible with what appeared to be an enormous Christmas tree at its heart.
“That’s quite a tree,” she said, reaching for her camera.
“Wait until you see it up close,” Christopher promised, a note of pride in his voice. “It’s a tradition going back generations. Every year, North Peak Pines, our local tree farm, donates a tree.”
“That’s generous of them,” Sorcha said, taking out her notebook and jotting it down.
“It’s a tradition that goes back as long as anyone can remember,” Christopher said with pride.
As they approached the outskirts of town, Sorcha noticed the decorations on every lamppost and storefront. Not mass-produced plastic, but handcrafted wreaths, wooden stars, and garlands of pine. Nothing flashy or gaudy, just simple, natural beauty that complemented rather than competed with the mountain setting.
“The whole town gets involved in decorating,” Christopher explained, seeming to read her thoughts. “There’s a festival the first weekend of December. Families come out; there’s cocoa and cider, and everyone helps hang ornaments on the enormous tree. Kids make decorations at school that get displayed in shop windows.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Sorcha said, imagining the scene. It was the kind of community celebration she’d written about many times but rarely experienced herself.
Christopher glanced at her, his expression thoughtful. “Will you still be here for the lighting ceremony? It’s tomorrow night.”
Sorcha calculated quickly. “I should be. My flight isn’t until Monday morning.”
“Good,” he said simply, but the warmth in his voice made her wonder what exactly he meant by that single word.
They were entering the town now, passing quaint storefronts decorated for the holiday season. People bundled in colorfulwinter gear strolled the sidewalks, greeting each other by name, stopping to chat despite the cold.
“Everyone seems to know each other,” Sorcha observed.
“That’s Bear Creek for you,” Christopher replied. “A stranger is just a friend you haven’t met yet.”
“Cute,” she said, trying to make light of his words. But she could not deny that the idea of living in a place where everyone looked out for each other had its appeal.
Just like being with a man like Christopher had its appeal. But maybe he was already spoken for.
Sorcha glanced at his ring finger. No ring. She found herself unreasonably pleased by this observation and immediately scolded herself for it.
“Here we are,” Christopher announced as they approached the town square. “Best Christmas tree in three counties, or so we like to claim.”
As they parked along the square’s edge, Sorcha’s journalist’s eye took in the scene, mentally composing the paragraphs she would write. But beneath her professional assessment, something else stirred — a feeling almost like recognition, as if some part of her had been waiting to find this place all along.
And to meet a man like Christopher.
Chapter Three – Christopher
“What do you think?” Christopher asked. It was a simple question, at least on the surface. But to Christopher, it felt as if her answer would reveal so much.
If she liked the town square, the tree…then maybe he’d get a hint at whether she could see herself settling in a town like Bear Creek, with a man like him.
“It’s amazing,” Sorcha answered in awe.“It looks like a postcard someone forgot to take down after the holidays…in the best way.”
Christopher’s chest swelled with pride as he watched her eyes light up. A warm rush of relief flowed through him, bringing a wide grin to his face. She liked it. She liked something about his home.
And she’ll like everything about us when she knows we are fated mates,his bear said happily.
