“I made my own decorations for the tree this year,” Mason said, bouncing on his toes. “Want to see?”
“You bet I do, kid,” Grant said with a smile.
A breeze picked up and he caught a scent in the air that wasn’t cinnamon spice and gingerbread. His bear’s interest immediately sharpened, and his own curiosity with it, though he couldn’t have said why. His bear’s senses were acute, and it was normal for him to smell and hear things that the humans around him couldn’t.
But something aboutthisscent…
Follow it,his bear insisted, strangely intent in his mind. He could feel it quivering with…excitement?...almost like it wanted to shift. Which was crazy, because they were in a town full—mostly—of humans, who had no idea about shifters.
There!
He felt his bear’s attention drawn to his left and he turned, and for a moment he couldn’t see the source…and then she wasallhe could see.
Even at a distance, the grace of her movements was evident, reminiscent of a willow tree swaying softly in the breeze. Her raven-black hair cascaded down her back, contrasting starkly with the snow around her, moving in fluid waves like a mountain stream catching the first light. The hem of her winter coat danced around her calves, revealing boots that crunched purposefully on the fresh snow. He couldn’t help but be taken by the elegance of her posture, the delicate curve of her neck as she looked around, and the gentle way her hands adjusted the scarf wrapped around her. Her every movement, her every breath, seemed to weave a spell around him.
And that was just seeing her from behind.
Her. She's the one, his bear murmured, its usual playful tone replaced with one of awe.Our mate.
Are you sure?Grant asked, but in his heart, he already knew. He felt an inexplicable pull towards her, like there was an invisible link joining them. Or a bond.
Without a doubt. Our mate. Look at her!
He did. The world seemed to mute for a moment as he took her in, and his heart echoed his bear’s sentiment. It was as though all the fairy tales he’d heard growing up were condensed into this singular moment. He stared in wonder at the back of the beautiful woman’s head. His mate.
And he knew, without a doubt, that going and meeting her was the most important thing in his life.
“Mr. Grant, Mr. Grant!” a voice said insistently, tugging at his coat. “Come and see my decorations!”
He glanced down at the child, and when he looked up, the woman was gone.
“Mr. Grant?”
“Huh? Decorations. Right.” He pasted a smile onto his face. “Show me what you made.”
She won’t go far, he consoled his bear. She had to be in town for the festival, which meant she’d be sticking around for a couple of days at least.
Yes,his bear replied, its excitement mounting again.She will see our trees, and then she will not be able to resist us.
I’m not sure trees are the language of love for everyone, buddy.
His bear scoffed at thought, and immediately set about considering which of their trees they should present to their mate to best woo her. Leaving the animal to it, Grant obligingly went with the cluster of children to see their decorations hanging from the tree in the center of the square and assured them all how impressed he was.
Children content, and bouncing off to ambush the next person they could find, Grant headed back over to find Mrs. Thompson and see if she needed any further help getting the trees settled in.
“Grant, saving one of those beauties for my front yard?” Daniel, the town’s doctor, called as he passed.
“Of course, Doc. Got a seven-footer with your name on it,” Grant replied with a smile. With his shifter healing, he had very little reason to need a doctor. Of course, being a shifter himself, Daniel was well aware of that fact, and the two men shared an unspoken kinship. He’d never asked what kind of shifter the doctor was, but he kept an ear out for anyone asking questions they shouldn’t, and he was sure the doctor did the same for him.
He made it back to the stage and his cluster of trees, and there she was again. His mate.
He was about to approach her when he overheard her talking to Lisa, one of the local craft shop owners.
“I love the charm. It's just...” She hesitated, glancing at Grant's signboard, “Real tree? It seems a bit outdated, doesn’t it?”
Lisa, always the diplomat, tried to defuse the situation. “Oh, Alice, Grant’s been running that farm for years. The trees are like family to him. You should chat with him; get to know his perspective.”
Grant's heart thudded in his chest. This was his chance. But as he strode forward, mustering the courage to introduce himself, Alice's words halted him in his tracks.
