The Bear's Matchmaking Mix-up Mate: A Cozy Small Town Shifter Romance (Bear Creek Forever:Thornberg Vineyard Book 6) by Harmony Raines

Author:Harmony Raines [Raines, Harmony]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harmony Raines
Published: 2025-09-11T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve – Wren

Time slipped away as Wren stood on the east ridge looking down on the vineyard, the rows of vines stretching before them like green ribbons. At the bottom of the valley sat a hacienda-style house, the late afternoon sun casting golden light across the red tile roof and white stucco walls. The sight took her breath away—not just the beauty of it, but the sense of permanence, of roots that ran deep into this mountain soil.

And in the distance, the mountain rose majestically, as if reaching for the sky.

But even more majestic than the mountains was the man by her side.

He stood silhouetted against the vast sky, his broad shoulders framed by wisps of clouds. Wren found herself studying his profile, from the strong line of his jaw to the slight curve of his mouth as he gazed out over his family’s legacy. The breeze ruffled his dark hair, making it dance against his forehead in a way that made her fingers itch to brush it back.

He looked as if he belonged here in the wilderness. He was as rugged as the mountains, yet there was a softness to him, like the grass beneath her feet. Yes, he was a man she could write songs about. Beautiful songs.

“Ready to go back down?” he asked, turning to her with those dark eyes that seemed to see straight through to her soul.

Wren nodded, and he held out his hand, and she took it. Not because the terrain was uneven, and she was worried she might fall. But because she wanted to feel the connection they shared, feel the rush of recognition flowing through her veins.

He led her down the trail, his grip steady and warm. When they reached the vines, he paused, his thumb absently stroking the back of her hand in a way that sent shivers up her arm.

“This is where Philip taught me to ride a bike,” Finn said, pointing to a flat stretch between vine rows. “I crashed into those vines over there and got the lecture of my life from my dad, Hugo, about respecting the grapes.”

Wren laughed, the sound coming easily now. “How old were you?”

“Six. Stanley was supposed to be watching me, but he’d wandered off to catch frogs by the irrigation pond.” Finn’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “I had skinned knees for weeks.”

“I bet you boys got into plenty of scrapes,” she said, imagining six boys rampaging through the vines and the wilderness beyond.

“Oh, we did. Our parents always said wild boys need wild spaces,” he said, eyes crinkling with the memory. “Dad would tell us the vineyard was our classroom, too—that we’d never learn patience from books alone, but we might learn it watching the grapes ripen year after year.”

“He sounds like a wise man,” Wren replied.

“He is, although I don’t think your godmother would agree.” Finn looked into the distance as if recalling his childhood.

A wave of longing swept over Wren. How she longed to be part of a family like that.

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