Page 35

More than yes, his bear roared.

“I don’t think they made this car for men as big as you.” Mara’s eyes traveled from his head to his feet.

“No,” he said lightly. “They did not.”

She laughed, and the awkwardness broke.

“So where are we going?” Gabe asked as she pulled away from the curb.

“Thornberg Restaurant in town.”

“Ah.” He nodded as his stomach grumbled in anticipation.

Mara looked across quickly. “I take it that’s a good ah?”

“It’s a very good ah. Thornberg’s a good choice. I’ve been there quite a few times. Family birthdays, dinner with friends. My mom liked it there.”

Mara’s grip loosened on the wheel. “Oh, good.”

“You sound relieved.”

“I am a little,” she admitted.

“Why?”

She doesn’t know she could feed us week-old leftovers and we would think it was a gourmet meal, his bear said.

Gabe chuckled to himself. Three weeks old and I still wouldn’t complain.

Mara smiled, almost sheepishly. “Because I checked the reviews. A lot of reviews, actually. Then I looked at the menu and made sure we’d have enough time to eat without rushing if we wanted to do Harvest Lights afterward.”

Gabe turned his head toward her. “You really are thorough.”

“I try.” She drove on, her attention on the road. Then she said, quieter, “I wanted to get it right.”

Something in her voice caught him off guard. He waited for her to say more.

Mara gave a small shrug, both hands still on the wheel. “I want tonight to be special.”

For a moment neither of them spoke. Even his bear, who had been offering opinions freely all evening, went quiet.

“Me too,” Gabe said.

Mara risked a look at him. There was a little vulnerability in her expression, but relief too. Then she smiled, and that was enough.

More than enough, his bear agreed.

By the time they reached Thornberg Restaurant, the last of the daylight had faded from the mountains, leaving the ridgeline dark against a sky that hadn’t quite given up its light. Mara parked, and they walked inside together.

The restaurant was warm and softly lit, with low conversations filling the dining room and candles flickering on the tables. Worn wooden floors and old photographs on the walls gave the place the lived-in feel Gabe remembered, and the polished wooden bar gleamed beneath the lights.

His mother had liked this room. She had liked the ambiance, and the fact that nobody hurried you. He had eaten a lot of birthday dinners in here, at one family table or another. But he had never walked through that door beside the woman he meant to spend his life with. Could anyone tell, just by looking at him?

Eleanor looked up from the host stand and smiled. “Gabe. Good to see you.”

“Hi, Eleanor.” He stepped aside slightly. “This is Mara Benton.”

Our mate, his bear added.