Chapter 2
TWO
Harris
For the last three days, my bear has been… restless.
Not just “I need a run” restless. This is a deeper agitation. A constant pacing under my skin, a sense that something is missing—close, but just out of reach.
I’ve tried to ignore it. Chalked it up to the full moon creeping closer or the stress of the recent fires. But deep down, I know better.
My bear is searching.
Or he was.
I’ve spent years looking for my mate. Longer than most. I’ve traveled to different packs. Attended summits and volunteered with search teams. Whenever I caught a promising scent, I followed it like a man starving. And every time, I came back alone.
Until today.
The moment I step out of the truck at the gas station, I could feel it.
Not just the pull. The snap.
The tether inside me goes taut—buried so deep, I’ve forgotten how loud it can be when it comes to life.
And then I smell her.
Vanilla. Sunshine. Sweet citrus.
My bear goesstill.
Then he howls.
MATE!
I stop breathing. My hands clench at my sides. Every instinct I’ve honed through years of discipline, control, and patience goes up in flames.
She’s here. Part of me can’t believe that she’s really here.
I can’t look away from her, can’t stop staring as we make the short walk over to the diner.
“Where are you from?”
“New York.”
Big city. That makes sense. She doesn’t move like someone from here. Her energy’s different. Wound tighter. Purposeful. Like she’s used to hustling, surviving on caffeine and pressure.
I open the door to the diner and step aside so she can enter first. The smell of bacon grease and pie hits us like a warm hug. The server behind the counter waves and calls out a cheery, “Hey, Harris!”
We slide into a booth by the window, and I catch a few curious looks from the locals. I ignore them.
My focus is on Lark
“What brings you to Twisted Oak?” I ask as we get settled.
“Just a vacation. I needed a break from New York and my job. A change of scenery.”
She scans the menu, and I watch her, taking her in.
She’s beautiful. Stunning. Her hair is tied up, and she looks tired. I’m guessing she’s been driving all day. She looks ready to fall asleep right here on the table, and I smile.
“I’m sorry no one contacted you,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “I know that’s a hell of a letdown.”
She shrugs. “It’s not your fault. But now I’ve got nowhere to stay. And I was hoping not to spend my first real vacation in years sleeping in my car.”
The way she says that last part— my first real vacation in years —hits me in the chest.
“You’re not sleeping in your car,” I say before I can think better of it.
She arches a brow. “And how do you figure that?”
“Because I’m going to help you. We’ve got a few rentals in town. Some better than others. I can call around. Worst case, I’ll find someone with a spare room. Or I’ll give you mine.”
Her eyes widen. “You don’t even know me.”
I want to tell her she’s my mate, but I bite my tongue and hold back the words.
“You seem like a good person. I want to help you out. How long are you in town for?”
“A week.”
“Okay, come stay with me.”
Her eyes widen. She doesn’t like that.
“Let me find you a place.”
Lark fidgets with the edge of the napkin, scanning the menu even though she hasn’t looked at it. I can tell she’s overwhelmed. Her uncertainty vibrates through the air.
And still… she’s here.
The server comes over, and we place our orders—coke and a BLT sandwich for her, coke and burger for me. Once we’re alone again, she leans back in the booth, arms crossed.
“It’s only for a few days,” I say, trying to convince her that this is a good idea. “I’ll show you around. Give you the local tour.”
She stares at me for a long moment, and I hold my breath.
Then she reaches for her coke, takes a sip, and says, “Okay.”
I blink. “Yeah?”
“One week,” she repeats. “That’s all I’ve got. So… show me what you’ve got, fireman.”
I grin so hard it hurts.
She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s already mine.
And I’ll spend every second of this week proving it to her.