Page 15

Oh, I am dreaming, his bear said softly. Dreaming of that day.

Gabe slid the pie into its box, folded the flaps, and set it with the rest of the food taking over one end of the worktable. Then he stepped back.

Too much? he asked his bear.

It was a lot. Two chicken, leek, and thyme hand pies each. Fresh rolls, cheese, fruit, cookies. Coffee in one thermos, hot cider in the other—because he always wanted his mate to have a choice.

There is no such thing as too much pie, his bear said, with total confidence.

I don’t know if that’s true. Gabe rested his hand on the box. He didn’t know if Mara even liked apple pie, and arriving with enough food to feed a family might not be the first impression he was aiming for.

Take it anyway, his bear said. Isn’t getting to know her the entire point of this afternoon?

Gabe looked down at the box. His bear had a point. The pie stayed.

“Good grief.” Matilda stood in the kitchen doorway with her coat over one arm, tying her apron around her waist while she stared at the food spread across the worktable.

Gabe turned to face her. “Thanks for coming in early.”

“No problem.” She finished the knot, hung her coat on the hook, and came farther into the kitchen. “Although now I’m wondering whether you asked me to come in early so I could run the bakery or cater whatever you’ve got planned.”

“I still appreciate it. The next bread is already started, and I’ve got the front stocked.” Gabe glanced toward the trays he had prepared for the lunch rush. “There’s another tray of cinnamon bears ready to go out when…”

Gabe stopped talking as Matilda turned her head and looked at him. He knew that look.

“I have worked a lunch rush before, Gabe.” Her mouth twitched. “Quite a few of them, now that I think about it.”

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m fussing.”

“A little.” Matilda picked up one of the prepared trays and carried it toward the rack where she preferred to keep them. “You can fuss if it makes you feel better. Just don’t confuse it with me needing instructions.”

“Fair enough.” Gabe checked the clock before he started packing the food into the picnic basket.

“If you need to go, go,” Matilda told him.

“Not until noon.”

Her gaze moved from him to the basket. “And what happens at noon?”

“I’m showing someone the old logging trail above town,” he explained.

“That’s a nice walk this time of year.” She slid the tray into place and came back for another. “Who is this someone?”

Gabe busied himself checking the lid on the coffee thermos. “Mara. She’s staying at Bear Creek Lodge for ten days. Curtis told her about the bakery, and so she came in this morning for coffee and pastries.”

Matilda was quiet. When he looked up, she was staring at him.

“What?” Color flushed his cheeks. He wasn’t trying to keep anything from her. He just wasn’t sure what to say.

I met my mate. Simple, his bear told him.

“Nothing.” Matilda took one of the hand pies, turned it over in her palm, and tucked it into the basket for him. “You just seem…different.”

Matilda had seen him through eleven years of early mornings, holiday rushes, broken equipment, staffing problems, and one bout of flu severe enough that Dana had come down and ordered him home. She knew what he looked like when he was cheerful, tired, irritated, worried, or pretending not to be any of those things. Apparently whatever he looked like today was new.

Because this is new, his bear roared.

“Gabe.” Matilda came around the end of the worktable. “Is there something special about this mysterious someone?”