Page 4

Kate sat back with her coffee and listened. Her parents were not pretending they knew everything. They were not overwhelmed and waiting for somebody to rescue them either. They were beginning again, together, and enjoying themselves while they did it.

Somewhere beyond the rows of apple trees was the neighbor who seemed to have become part of their new life almost as quickly as the orchard itself.

Wes. Maybe tomorrow, she would finally get to meet him.

CHAPTER 2

Wes

Wes was glad to see the mountains again. He had only been away overnight, but that was long enough to remind him why he avoided the city when he could. Too much traffic, too many buildings and far too much time sitting at red lights when there was work waiting for him at home.

At least the trip had been worth it. The replacement part for the tractor was boxed on the passenger seat beside him. He had called every supplier closer to Bear Creek before finally finding one in the city with the part in stock. It was a long way to go for one part, but leaving the tractor in the barn this close to harvest had not been an option. His bear had objected to most of the journey.

You object to traffic every time we leave Bear Creek.

Because every time we leave Bear Creek, there is traffic, his bear began. I have yet to understand why humans built so many roads and then filled them until nobody can move.

Wes smiled as the road began to climb. We’re nearly home.

At last, his bear sighed.

He sounded satisfied enough that some of Wes’s own tension eased. The land opened around him as he drove higher, the trees along the road beginning to turn in earnest. Red showed through the maples on the lower slopes, with flashes of yellow among the darker evergreens. A few fallen leaves skittered across the road when the wind came down off the mountain.

This was where he belonged.

Harvest would make him question that at least once before the season was over. It did every year. For most of the growing season, Wes knew the rhythm of the orchard well enough that the work rarely felt as if it was chasing him. Harvest was different. Once the fruit was ready, the apples and the weather decided what happened next.

A storm brought panic as well as high winds, and a warm spell with too much sun might ripen the apples faster than they could pick them. The tractor had chosen a particularly bad week to break down.

Wes glanced at the box beside him. He would fit the part as soon as he got home, but first he intended to stop at the Harlands’. Alan had sent him a message while Wes was away asking about one of the old picking notes Eileen Shaw had left behind when she sold them the orchard. Nothing urgent, but Wes had promised he would take a look when he got back. Since he’d be driving right past, he might as well stop in now, rather than risk it slipping his mind once he got busy.

And you like Janice’s baking, his bear said dryly.

Wes could not argue with that. But Janice’s baking wasn’t the only reason he was stopping in. He liked the new neighbors. Alan and Janice were learning quickly, and they were not embarrassed to admit when they did not know something.

Wes had met people who bought a piece of land and immediately started explaining it to everyone who had lived beside it for years. The Harlands were not like that. They wanted the orchard to become theirs, but they seemed to understand that taking ownership and understanding the place were not the same thing.

Wes was turning onto the road that ran past both orchards when his bear went completely quiet. The silence was so sudden Wes noticed it immediately.

What is it?

His bear did not answer. Wes felt him rise slowly to his feet, every trace of irritation about traffic gone. His attention fixed on the road ahead with such intensity that Wes straightened behind the wheel.

It wasn’t danger. Wes would have known the difference. Instead, an unfamiliar warmth spread through him, quiet but insistent. The road looked the same as it had a moment ago, but suddenly Wes was aware of the distance still between him and home.

His bear drew in a long breath and pushed out his senses. There is someone ahead.

Wes’s hands tightened slightly on the wheel. Someone? But he didn’t need his bear to tell him who that someone was. Or what she was.

He had heard his friends try to explain this moment. Every shifter who found their mate seemed convinced they could describe it afterward, and every description had sounded inadequate. Now Wes understood why. The feeling strengthened as he drove.

Our mate is somewhere ahead of us, his bear said, and there was wonder in his voice.

Wes sucked in a breath and for a second the road, the tractor part and his plans for the rest of the day seemed to slip away. He had always believed she was out there. He had not spent his life mourning someone he had never met, but there had always been that expectation. One day. Somewhere. When fate decided the time was right.

Apparently fate had chosen a morning when he had been wearing the same jeans since yesterday and had spent several hours arguing with city traffic. A laugh escaped him.

His bear was far too happy to care. Keep driving.