Chapter 4
FOUR
Harris
The cabin and surrounding area are quiet as I grab Lark’s things from her car. I stand there for a second longer, staring at the door like I might see her silhouette through it. My bear is still humming under my skin, pacing, more alive than he’s been in years.
Mate.
The word echoes through me, not a thought but a truth etched into every bone. I’ve waited so damn long for her. I didn’t think I’d ever find her, not after all the false starts and dead ends. But she’s here. She’s real. And I’ve got exactly one week to show her why she’s not going back to that city life.
The idea of her leaving has my bear snarling.
Not yet, I think. Not if I can help it.
I unload her bags from the trunk of her car and carry them up the steps. I left the door ajar and tap it lightly before stepping inside. Heading upstairs, I place the bags by the bed, careful not to look too long at the soft throw blanket or the king-size bed.
Bite her. Claim her now, my bear urges.
I shake my head. Not yet.
"Thanks again," Lark says as she exits the bathroom. "For all of this. I didn’t mean to drop into town and cause chaos."
"You didn’t. You landed exactly where you were meant to."
Her eyes flick to mine, curious but cautious. "That’s a bold thing to say," she murmurs. “Do you believe in fate and all that?”
“You could say that.” I smile and back off before I come on too strong. "I’ll let you settle in. But I’ll be back at six, okay?"
She nods. "Looking forward to it."
And just like that, I’m walking back to my truck with a grin that refuses to fade.
I don’t head home. Not yet. I steer the truck toward the firehouse instead. It’s mostly quiet this time of day—everyone’s between shifts or grabbing lunch—but I find Logan and Ridge out back, checking over one of the trucks.
Logan’s the first to look up. "You look like someone just gave you a winning lottery ticket."
"Something like that," I reply, hopping out of the truck.
Ridge straightens and narrows his eyes. "Why do I feel like this has something to do with that tourist you were making eyes at in the diner earlier?"
I run a hand through my hair, unable to stop the stupid smile. "She’s my mate."
Logan lets out a low whistle. "No shit."
"No shit," I echo, still trying to wrap my head around it. "Her name is Lark. She came here for a vacation, but her rental burned in that Everpine fire. She didn’t even know until she showed up today."
Ridge groans. "Figures. Those places were already falling apart."
"I put her up in Randy’s cabin."
"The one near your place?" Logan asks.
I nod. "It’s empty, and I couldn’t let her sleep in her car."
Ridge crosses his arms. "You tell her she’s your mate yet?"
"No. I don’t want to scare her off. She’s only here for a week. I’ve got to be careful. But… I need her to feel it, too."
Logan claps me on the back. "You’ve got that look in your eyes, man. Like the universe finally handed you a break."
"Let’s hope she sees it that way."
We fall into a comfortable silence until Logan asks, "Did you smell it? The edge of something… off?"
I nod slowly. "Red Fog. They’re circling again. I caught a trace near the fire line."
Ridge curses. "Figures. Just when things were starting to settle."
"I don’t want Lark near any of that. Not until I figure out what they’re doing back here."
Logan nods. "We’ve got your back. We’ll keep an eye out."
"Thanks."
Back home, I throw on a clean shirt and set the kitchen to rights. I can’t cook like my sister, but I’ve got a decent hand with the grill, and I picked up fresh vegetables at the market yesterday.
I prep everything for dinner before showering, the hot water doing little to douse the nerves crawling up my spine.
I’ve waited so long for this.
Lark has no idea what she means to me. Not yet.
But I’ll show her.
Every damn day until she sees it too.
By the time I drive back to the cabin, the sun is slipping behind the trees, casting golden light across the clearing. I knock on the door, and Lark opens it, barefoot and glowing, her sundress fluttering in the breeze.
I swear my heart stutters.
"Ready?" I ask, offering my hand.
She looks down at it like she’s deciding something. Then she slides her fingers into mine. "Ready."
We drive the short distance to my place—just a few bends in the road, the pine trees thick and green around us.
Lark blinks as I pull into the driveway. “Jeez! We could’ve walked here. I didn’t realize you lived right down the street.”
“Yeah, it’s a small town. Everyone is close,” I reply as I hop out of the truck to open her door.
My cabin is a little bigger than Randy’s. I built it five years ago, right after joining the Twisted Oak crew. It’s quiet and solid, and as Lark walks in, it’s the first time it doesn’t feel too empty.
Lark looks around, taking it all in. The vaulted ceiling, the stone fireplace, and the wall of windows overlooking the woods.
"This is amazing," she murmurs.
"Thanks. Didn’t have much else to do when I moved back, so I built something that felt like mine."
"You built this?"
I nod, heading toward the kitchen. "Took about a year. Learned a lot from YouTube and trial and error."
She laughs. "That’s impressive."
I plate up dinner—grilled salmon, roasted veggies, a small skillet of cornbread I made earlier—and we settle onto the back deck with plates balanced on our laps and the sun dipping low over the trees.
We talk about Lark’s life in New York and my years with the fire crew. Our favorite movies. Books. Foods. She tells me she’s never eaten fish this fresh before, and I can’t stop smiling.
It feels like something is settling into place. Something right.
Halfway through the meal, Lark sets her plate aside and turns to me.
"You’re easy to talk to, Harris."
My chest warms. "You too."
"And this—this whole day—I didn’t expect it. But I’m glad it happened."
I lean closer, heart hammering. "Me too."
She holds my gaze, something soft and searching in her eyes. Then she smiles. "Thanks for dinner."
It’s not just about the food. It’s everything. The house. The effort. The way I look at her like she’s already mine.
Because she is.
She just doesn’t know it yet.
But I’ve got six more days to show her. And I’m going to make every single one count.