"We can go over to the Thunder Bear Tavern and get lemonade,” Doll said hopefully. “They just started selling it this year and it’s amazing. ‘Cause you can't have beer if you're still working the forge, anyway."
"I'm done for the day, but I wasn't thinking beer anyway, just a drink. Lemonade sounds amazing," Bree said longingly. "But no, I can't go to the tavern. That's the Torben's place."
"Oh. My. God.That'swhy you always refuse to go there? Girl." Doll seized Bree's upper arm and pulled her away fromthe smithy, though they stayed inside its cordoned-off grounds. It sat beside a copse of trees that lent it some shade, and Doll parked Bree there, hands on her hips, though she kept her voice relatively quiet. "Seriously, Bree, why didn't you evertellme? Like, finding your fated mate, that's a big deal! That's girl talk!"
"Because I didn't want to think about it, and I was pretty sure you'd try to accidentally-on-purpose make sure we ran into each other if you knew," Briana said dryly.
Doll widened her big brown eyes as innocently as she could, then let the expression fall away while she thought about it. After a moment's consideration, she said, "Yeah, I might have," reluctantly. "Sorry, I can be kind of a jerk sometimes."
"You're almost never a jerk," Bree said sincerely. "You are, however, weirdly obsessed with fate and twuuuu wuuuuuuv."
"Only because there's no point in even being a shifter if you don't get to know the moment you lay eyes on your forever person that theyareyour forever person," Doll said with a sniff.
"Except all the lounging in the sunshine in a fur coat, and bouncing around the woods, and climbing mountains, and?—"
"Yes, all right, fine!" Dahlia hissed.
Bree giggled. "Soanywayif you wanted to go buy us a vat of lemonade I'll give you the money for it, but I'm staying here under this tree and trying to avoid being a public biohazard."
"That, unfortunately, is a really good argument for keeping you away from crowded spaces," Doll admitted. "I'm pretty sure the ungodly stench of the smithing-obsessed men in my family is what kept me from ever wanting to be a blacksmith myself. I actually thought it'd be Damien, someday. You know. As your mate."
Bree shot a look toward Dahlia's brother, now working the forge, and felt her smile become a laugh. "Given how much of a crush I had on him from ages, like, fourteen to twenty-two, yeah, I can see that. Preeeetty sure he never saw me as anythingother than his little sister's annoying friend, though. And an apprentice," she added, to be fair.
"Sadly, I think you're right. Okay. I'm getting lemonade. You need a snack?"
Briana considered the turkey legs that were a staple of Renaissance faire food, and decided she was too hot for that kind of meal. "Maybe after I've had a gallon of lemonade and a shower, or at least washed my face."
"I'll bring water back, too, so you can pour it over yourself."
"I'm basically wearing a white tank top, Doll."
"You've already sweated through it, pouring water on yourself isn't going to make it any more see-through."
Bree glanced down at herself and had to admit Dahlia was pretty much right. Her sleeveless cotton tunic, lightweight and loose, could just about pass for a modern tank top, and when soaked with sweat, was about that revealing, too. She groaned and slid down the tree they'd taken shelter under, arms propped on her knees and her head dropped back against the trunk. "Yeah, legit. In that case, yes, please. Cold water, if it exists at this hour of the day at Faire."
"Back in a flash." Dahlia pulled the smithy's cordon up, stepped under it, and bustled off, her ankle-length skirt swishing. Like Bree, she was essentially dressed as a working-class woman of the sixteenth-ish century, although the jewel-blue-and-purple tones of her dress and corset probably would have been much too expensive for a regular person of that era. That was okay: Bree was fairly certain there hadn't been sixteenth-century people in flower-petal dresses, or elf ears, or witch's hats, either, but the faire was full of them. It was one of the things she loved about Faire, up to and including the 'time travelers' who wore costumes from futuristic TV shows or were simply looking for an excuse to break out vintage twentieth-century clothes. The whole point was an escape from reality for a while.
Shewas going to escape from reality by taking a nap, if she wasn't careful. Not that she was comfortable, but it was hot and she was off her feet for the first time in hours. A nap sounded great, even with all the hustle and bustle of faire-goers on the path just beyond the smithy's cordoned area.Thirty more seconds,Bree promised herself, and tried to indulge in a short rest even as she counted the seconds down. It was probably more like two minutes, or maybe five, but she felt better when she finally yawned, stretched, and forced her eyes open.
Her fated mate, Laurie Torben, was standingright thereon the path, not ten feet away from her, with his gaze locked on hers.
Chapter 2
Laurie Torben had half a dozen things on his mind, and not one of them was 'meet my fated mate.' Not until the incredibly gorgeous woman dozing beneath a tree opened her eyes and met his, and drove every other thought he'd ever had straight out of his brain.
She was built like a brick wall, he thought with dizzy admiration. Her biceps were visible slabs of muscle, even relaxed. She had broad, strong, well-muscled shoulders, and wore a grungy white sleeveless blouse that clung to those shoulders, and had a v-cut in the neck to show off defined collarbones. Her hair was up, a tangled knot of brown streaked by sunlight, and her clenched jaw was chiseled beneath a full mouth pressed into a thin line, striking cheekbones, and dark eyes beneath beetled eyebrows. She was wearing sturdy, heavy brown leather boots pitted with scars, and woven trousers inset with leather along the outer thighs. It all looked not just lived-in, butworked-in.
His bear breathed,Hot damn,and Laurie, starting to grin, couldn't help but agree. His mate was fabulous. Powerful. Attractive. Magnificent. The kind of woman he hadn't evenknown he dreamed of.Andshe was a shifter: he knew that through the ineffablesomethingthat let shifters know when others of their kind were around. That was incredible, Laurie thought. None of his brothers had shifter mates, so they'd all had to go through the awkward dance of explainingaboutshifters to their new partners. But now a sudden, easy happily-ever-after lay within Laurie's reach.
His fated mate's flawless face settled in a furious scowl. She snarled, "Goddamnit," and she got to her feet.
Maybe she was late to wherever she needed to be. Laurie stepped up to the cordon that lay between them, keeping himself on the path side of it, although as a faire employee he wouldn't get in trouble for crossing over it. His mate was tall, although nowhere near as tall as Laurie himself, and somewhat sooty, with sweat streaking her temples and arms. She had a leather belt on over her tunic, metal tools fitted into it, their weight dragging the belt down to ride her hips.
Instead of looking delighted at his approach, his mate rolled her eyes and stepped over the cordon herself. Definitely in a hurry, then, Laurie thought. He put on his best grin, one that always worked with the ladies, and offered his elbow. "Laurie Torben. I'll walk to the ends of the earth with you."
"Oh, barf. I know who you are. Go away." His mate actually looked as if shemightbarf, which was…not something Laurie encountered often. She stalked away from him, down the path toward—well, technically it was toward the Thunder Bear Tavern, where he worked, but there were other things that direction, too, and it mostly looked like her destination was 'anywhere Laurie wasn't.'
He stared after her for a few seconds, confused.Doesn't she know we're mates?
