The Bear’s Mail Order Mate (Bear Creek Forever:Thornberg Vineyard #1)

Chapter One – Kris

Kris Thornberg took a sip of his latest wine blend, allowing the liquid to linger on his palate before swallowing. He frowned slightly, detecting a subtle imbalance that nagged at his well-honed senses. It was close, but the flavors were still not working in harmony.

Finding the perfect blend seems to be as elusive as finding our mate, his bear grumbled.

Ignoring his bear’s comment, Kris swirled the dark liquid slowly in the glass. Too much bite, he decided, scribbling a note in his battered spiral notebook.

Maybe we could take a break and join the others, his bear suggested hopefully.

Too late. Kris looked up as he sensed his brothers returning to the vineyard after their nighttime run across the mountains.

We should have gone with them, his bear grumbled in the back of his mind.

I wanted to get this new blend perfected, Kris countered, taking another sip of wine as he tried to figure out what it was missing.

All work and no play makes Kris a dull boy, his bear replied. Maybe that includes your senses. If you got out a bit more, you might feel refreshed.

Next time, Kris promised as he methodically recorded his observations and reached for some dried cranberries from a small wooden bowl beside him. The chewy tartness contrasted sharply with the wine, sparking a new idea he hoped would lead to the missing note.

“Still torturing your taste buds, I see.” Philip’s voice came from the doorway as he entered the building where Kris worked his magic. Kris might have been struggling with this particular blend, but he had earned a reputation for producing exceptional wines that perfectly captured the essence of Thornberg Vineyard’s unique terroir.

“Just trying to get this new red blend right,” Kris replied, not looking up from his notebook. “Something’s off, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“Maybe you’re overthinking it,” Philip said, reaching for an empty glass. “Mind if I try?”

Kris slid the bottle across the wooden table. “Be my guest. Maybe a fresh palate will catch what I’m missing.”

As Philip grabbed a clean glass from the shelf and poured himself a taste, Stanley and Alfie loitered in the doorway, whispering. Kris watched as his brother swirled the red liquid around and then lowered his head to inhale the aroma before taking a generous sip.

“Well?” Kris asked with barely masked impatience.

Philip’s eyebrows rose slightly as he savored the wine. “Hmm,” he murmured, taking another thoughtful sip before setting the glass down. “It’s good. Superb, actually, as always. But I see what you mean. There’s something…missing.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying for the last three hours,” Kris said, running a hand through his hair.

It feels like three days, his bear grumbled.

More like three weeks, Kris replied. A faint tension tugged at his temples. He’d been hunched over these notes since midday, and the strain was beginning to tell.

Stanley pushed off from the doorframe and ambled into the tasting room. “Let me try. I might not know wines like you two, but I know what I like.”

“Since when did running a pet store qualify you as a wine expert?” Alfie called from behind him, following his brother inside while Nero hovered in the shadows.

“Since I serve the most discerning customers in Bear Creek,” Stanley replied with a grin. “Mrs. Winters’ poodle won’t eat anything but the finest organic treats. If that’s not sophistication, I don’t know what is.”

Kris shook his head but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at his lips. Stanley’s irreverent humor often lightened the tension in the winery, and Kris appreciated it more than he let on. It helped that Stanley was not as emotionally invested in the wines in the same way as Kris or Philip.

“Here.” Kris poured a sample for Stanley, who approached tasting wine with the same enthusiastic lack of technique he applied to most things in life.

“It needs…” Stanley took another sip, his expression comically serious. “Hmm. Something earthy. Like the smell after rain.”

Kris paused, considering. “Petrichor.”

“Petri-what?” Alfie asked, helping himself to a glass.

“Petrichor,” Nero said as he came to join them. “The smell of earth after rain.”

Kris nodded, suddenly thoughtful. “You might be onto something, Stan. Maybe a touch more of the Cabernet Franc from the north slope. It has more mineral notes from our rocky soil.”

Philip nodded slowly. “That’s what’s missing. That subtle earthiness would balance the fruit notes perfectly.”

Kris reached for another bottle, one he’d been saving from last year’s experimental batch. “Let me try adding just a touch…” He carefully measured a small amount into his blend, then swirled it gently before taking another taste.

The moment the wine touched his tongue, he knew he had it at last.

Thank goodness, his bear rumbled with satisfaction.

“That’s it,” Kris said, unable to keep the excitement from his voice. “That’s exactly what it needed.”

Stanley grinned triumphantly. “See? And you all thought the pet store guy didn’t know his wines,” he declared, giving Kris a playful punch on the shoulder. “But you don’t have to be an expert to know what tastes good.”

“I guess it’s all those dog biscuits you have to sample,” Nero teased, but there was admiration in his tone.

“Good team effort.” Kris carefully noted the adjustment in his notebook, then sat back in his chair, the weight of the day’s tension lifting. The satisfaction of solving the puzzle pleased him as much as the wine itself.

Maybe now we should go for a run, his bear said.

That’s not a bad idea, Kris agreed as he closed his notebook.

“So,” Alfie said, hopping onto a stool, “now that you’ve achieved viticultural perfection for the evening, maybe you can help us with a little project.”

This doesn’t sound like something we want to get involved in. Kris’s bear instantly went on alert. He recognized that tone. It was the same one Alfie had used before convincing him to “borrow” their father’s truck when they were teenagers.

“What kind of project?” Kris asked cautiously.

“It’s something personal,” Stanley said, a little too innocently.

“Personal?” Kris repeated. Now he knew he wasn’t going to like it.

“Did you tell him?” Finn came to join them, grabbing the half-empty bottle from the side before he perched on the edge of a cask. “Anyone for a top-up?”

As they poured drinks, Kris noticed the conspiratorial smiles drifting among his brothers. A sense of mild dread swirled in his gut. He could practically taste their shenanigans.

“Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?” Kris held out his glass and Finn filled it nearly to the brim. But he doubted any amount of wine was going to help him through whatever his brothers had planned.

“Don’t be hasty,” Finn said as he emptied the rest of the wine into Philip’s glass.

“Come on. Out with it.” Kris took a long swig of wine, ignoring how it burned slightly at the back of his throat. He preferred sipping slowly, but his nerves told him otherwise.

“So, Kris,” Finn began, swirling wine in his glass, “we had a thought while running. About your…lack of a social life.” He traded a smirk with the others.

“My what?” Kris sputtered, nearly dropping his notepad.

Here we go, his bear muttered with gruff amusement.

Stanley cleared his throat in playful pompousness. “Yes. Your catastrophic, hopeless social life. Or non-existent social life, to be precise. You never leave these vines long enough to meet anyone, let alone find your mate.”

Heat flared across Kris’s neck. “It’s not that bad.”

“But it is that bad,” Stanley said, leaning a hip against a barrel. “You can’t hide away in here for the rest of your life. It’s…”

“…not healthy,” Philip finished pointedly.

Kris drained the last of his glass, setting it down a bit too forcefully. “So, what, you guys have a grand plan for me? Like I can just place an order for a mate?”

A hush fell, broken only by the click of Finn’s phone unlocking. Alfie shook his head with an exaggerated sigh. “Order a mate? Huh, interesting you mention that…”

Stanley grinned as he stepped forward. “We might have drafted a little ad . For fun.”

An ad…? His bear instinctively tensed, a wave of disbelief and alarm washing over him.

Oh, no. They wouldn’t, Kris said, equally appalled.

Finn shot Kris a crooked smile. “Yes, for a…what did you call it? A mail-order bride. One who appreciates fine wine and a good man.”

Kris’s eyes went wide, but the brothers were already trading glances like co-conspirators. He stifled a groan. “You guys can’t be serious.”

“Oh, we’re serious, all right,” Philip teased. “And we happen to have our first draft right here.”

Kris watched as Finn tapped his phone, clearing his throat. The rest of the brothers straightened as if preparing for a performance. Kris folded his arms, half-amused, half-apprehensive.

“All right,” Stanley directed, turning an imaginary baton toward Finn. “This is what we have so far.”

“We worked hard on it,” Philip said as he reached for another bottle of wine.

Finn took a deep breath and began, glancing at the phone’s screen: “Seeking the Perfect Match at Thornberg Vineyard…”

Alfie chimed in, “Wait, I think we should mention Bear Creek right away to set the picturesque small-town vibe.”

“Sure, sure,” Finn agreed, adjusting his phone. “How about: ‘Seeking the Perfect Match at Thornberg Vineyard: Nestled in the picturesque town of Bear Creek, the heart of Thornberg Vineyard is on the hunt for someone special. Do you have a refined palate, a zest for adventure, and dreams of pairing exquisite food with exceptional wine? Do you dream of being part of a new venture, in a charming place where flavors and warmth blend seamlessly?’ Sound okay?”

Kris rolled his eyes. “No.”

“Don’t listen to him. It’s good,” Philip said, nodding. “Continue.”

Finn resumed: “…Do you have exceptional taste, a passion for fine wines, and an adventurous spirit?”

Stanley raised a hand. “Needs more emphasis on a ‘fresh start’ angle. Like we’re genuinely offering them a new beginning. The place you can reinvent yourself or something.”

“Right,” Finn said, typing. “So we insert: ‘We’re looking for an individual who…’ Let me bullet-point this out and we can refine it later.”

“Good idea,” Stanley cut in with a soft laugh. “Don’t forget the sense of humor requirement. That is a must.”

Finn typed, then read slowly, “We’re looking for an individual who appreciates life’s finer pleasures (and excellent vintages).”

“Are you calling me old?” Kris grumbled.

“Never,” Philip replied. “But none of us are getting any younger.

“Okay, continue, Finn,” Alfie prompted.

Finn nodded. “Dreams of pairing delicious food with extraordinary wine. Is ready for a fresh start filled with warmth, laughter, and lasting relationships. Isn’t afraid of a little hard work and family chaos (sense of humor highly recommended!).”

“And then,” Stanley interjected, “some kind of closing line like…Apply today, in person! And then something like your future awaits, that kind of romantic flourish.”

Alfie snapped his fingers. “Yes, we need that final push. Something that says: ‘This is it—take the leap.’”

“A leap of faith,” Nero added.

“Or a leap of fate!” Stanley raised his glass.

Finn grinned, finalizing the text. “How about: ‘If you’re seeking to put down roots and help us turn dreams into reality, your place awaits at Thornberg Vineyard—where great wine, good company, and love always find each other. Serious inquiries, in person, only—your future awaits.’”

A chorus of satisfaction rumbled among the brothers. Kris pinched the bridge of his nose, torn between laughter and exasperation. “I can’t believe this. You’re literally writing a personal ad for me.”

His bear let out an amused rumble. It is kind of funny, even if it sounds like garbled nonsense.

Kris couldn’t deny the sense of longing that filled him. If only it were that easy. But the days of ordering a bride through an advertisement were long gone. And even if they were not, he didn’t need a mail-order bride—he needed a mail-order mate .

Philip took Finn’s phone, scanning the text. “This actually sounds…not half bad.”

“It’s a good thing that no one is ever going to see it,” Kris muttered, trying not to imagine some poor woman reading it and taking it seriously.

Finn tapped a few more keys, shooting Kris a wicked grin. “And…posted. That’s that.”

“Wait! What?” Kris stood up abruptly and reached for Finn’s phone as panic gripped him.

But Finn merely held up his phone, an unapologetic shrug on his face. “It’s for your own good.”

“You are joking.” Kris narrowed his eyes at his brother as he clenched his fists. He’d not come to blows with his brothers since they were hot-headed teenagers, but this was too much.

“I might be,” Finn teased, holding his phone close to his chest. “Or I might not be.”

“Finn,” Kris growled, a warning to his brother.

“You should see your face.” Finn chuckled as he reached for his wine glass and took a drink.

“Give me the phone, Finn,” Kris demanded, his voice dropping an octave as his bear’s irritation seeped through his veins.

“Fine, fine,” Finn relented, tossing the phone to Kris with a dramatic sigh. “It was just a joke. I didn’t actually post anything.”

Kris caught the device and quickly checked the screen. The draft was there, but thankfully not published anywhere. He exhaled slowly, relief washing over him as his brothers collapsed in a fit of giggles.

“You all think you’re hilarious,” Kris said, handing the phone back to Finn. “But you know what? I’m perfectly content with my life.”

That’s a lie, his bear grumbled.

“Sure you are,” Stanley said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I mean, why would you want to find your mate when it might interfere with all the time you spend with your wine?”

Kris shrugged off his brother’s hand. “It’s important to me…”

A faint hush fell as Kris mulled over how to make them understand something he barely understood himself. After their cousins over at the Thornberg Ranch all found their mates, he’d felt the emptiness more keenly than ever. Immersing himself in vineyard work helped bury the fear that the Thornberg Vineyard boys might never share in such joy.

Maybe we all need to place ads for mail-order mates, his bear said dryly.

Kris sighed heavily. “Look, I appreciate the concern, but I don’t need help finding a mate. When it happens, it happens.”

“And it has to happen sooner or later, doesn’t it?” Stanley asked hopefully.

“It does,” Nero replied, raising his glass. “Here’s to fate. May it bless us with the same luck as our cousins over at the Thornberg Ranch.”

Kris glanced down at the ad on the phone one last time, then handed it back to Finn before raising his own glass. “To fate.”

“To fate,” his brothers chorused.

Let’s just hope fate has not abandoned us, his bear said, as the brothers drank their toast, each with a far-off look in their eyes.