Isla chuckled as she picked up her wineglass and took a sip. “Oh.” She let the wine linger on her tongue, then studied the glass for a moment. “This is excellent.”
“Thornberg Vineyard,” Kirk explained, gesturing toward the mountains. “Just up the slope there.”
“Any relation?” Isla asked, taking another appreciative sip.
“My aunt and uncle own it,” Kirk said with a nod.
“Impressive,” Isla said, swirling the ruby liquid. “Seems your family has quite the knack for… well, most things they put their hands to.”
Kirk took a sip of his wine, savoring the familiar notes of blackberry and oak that reminded him of fall harvests. “I don’t know about that,” he said with a modest shrug. “We just do what we love.”
“So,” she said, setting her glass down. “Tell me more about Bear Creek. What should we know as first-time visitors?”
Kirk gazed at the mountains rising beyond the courtyard, considering Isla’s question. What did he love about Bear Creek? On the surface, the answer seemed simple—the mountains, the forests, the clean air, the tight-knit community where everyone knew your name. But as he searched for words to explain it to this woman who’d appeared so suddenly in his life, his bear answered first.
Our mate,his bear said with absolute certainty.
Kirk nearly choked on his wine. He set the glass down carefully, hoping his face hadn’t betrayed his thoughts.
“Well,” he began, clearing his throat, “it’s the rhythm of life here. The way the seasons change so dramatically, yet predictably. The way everyone knows everyone else, for better or worse.” He smiled. “And the quiet. Sometimes I just stand in my greenhouse and listen to the plants growing.”
As he spoke, Isla lifted her fork to her mouth and took another bite of Matt’s creation. Her eyes closed for a moment, and a small, surprised sound escaped her.
“Oh, this is wonderful,” she murmured, sounding genuinely surprised.
Kirk felt a surge of pride in his brother’s talent. “Matt is exceptional in the kitchen,” he said, watching her savor the bite. “He has a feel for flavors like no one else I know.”
She nodded, the appreciation clear on her face. “I agree. He has a talent. The flavors are complex, but none of themoverpowers the others. It’s as if he lets them breathe, the way you would an excellent wine.”
The comparison felt exactly right to Kirk. His brother’s cooking was like the Thornberg wine—carefully balanced, respectful of the ingredients, nothing rushed or forced.
“This chili dip is good too,” Percy agreed, his small face serious as he scooped up another helping with a sweet potato fry.
Kirk smiled, a surge of satisfaction spreading through him at seeing them both enjoying their food. The boy had been hesitant about the chilies—his chilies—at first, but now he was dipping enthusiastically.
They’ve had the best introduction to Bear Creek and our family,his bear said with equal satisfaction.
Good, because we need her to want to stay,Kirk replied.
She will,his bear answered with complete confidence.
“So, Bear Creek?” Isla prompted again, her eyes curious as she took another sip of wine. “What else should we know while we’re here?”
“Are there really bears in Bear Creek?” Percy asked between bites of his chicken.
Kirk smiled. “There are. Black bears mostly, though they tend to keep to themselves.”
“What about wolves?” Percy’s eyes were wide with excitement.
“Yes, in the mountains,” Kirk confirmed, carefully navigating the line between truth and revelation. “But if you stick to the lower trails, you probably won’t meet any.”
His bear stirred restlessly.He can meet a bear right now. Me.
Not now, Kirk replied silently.And certainly not here. That’s a reputation the restaurant does not need.
“There’s a wildlife sanctuary just outside town,” Kirk began. “There are deer and wolves…”
Percy’s eyes widened. “Can we go there? Please, Mom?” His legs swung excitedly beneath the table.
