Chapter Nine – Kris
Kris stood in the barn doorway, the early sun catching on the old wooden boards behind him. He wanted to climb to the rooftop and shout out to the world that she was here, his mate!
So, you’re a little relieved that Cassia hasn’t run off? his bear asked dryly, even though the same excitement buzzed in his veins.
And more, she is serious about the restaurant, Kris replied, picturing them working together to bring this seed of an idea to fruition.
So, what are you waiting for? his bear asked. Time to get to work.
He glanced sideways at Cassia, who stood beside him, casting an assessing eye over the barn’s interior.
How lucky we are that Finn mistakenly posted the ad. That last thought lit a flicker of longing. He’d love to see all his siblings find that special someone.
That only someone, his bear said reverently. Having Cassia here was like some kind of a miracle.
Cassia took a small step forward. “Well,” she remarked, voice echoing faintly in the open space, “it definitely has rustic charm. I can already imagine the potential—windows along this side…” She paused, then glanced over her shoulder at Kris. When she grinned, his heart skipped a beat.
She didn’t even say anything more. Just that grin, as if they shared a secret. The air whooshed out of his lungs as a rush of heady gratitude swept over him.
You can breathe now, his bear teased, nudging him mentally. Or stand frozen there until she wonders if you’re broken.
Kris blinked, managing a half-laugh at his own awkwardness. “Yeah, sorry. Still waking up, I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck and forced himself to move. Pulling the folded paper from his back pocket, he gestured for her to come closer. “This is Finn’s draft layout. I think it’s the simplest place to start.”
“Sure.” She joined him at the center of the barn, rolling her shoulders as if preparing for a real brainstorming session. “Let’s see.”
Kris unfolded the sketch carefully. It was nothing fancy—pencil lines, half-labeled sections, scrawled ideas about potential doorways and windows. But the general concept was there.
Cassia traced a finger along the drawing. “I like how the tasting area is near the entrance—makes it easy for visitors to start with a wine flight before deciding on what to eat. “Then the main dining area, kind of shaping around a big window so you can see the vines.” She glanced at Kris. “It would be gorgeous.”
Her enthusiasm made Kris grin. “Agreed. Plus, the view from that side is the best, especially during sunset.” A tingle of pride filled his chest, recollecting how many times he’d watched the sun dip over those same vines. To share that moment with her? He could hardly wait.
“Sunset dinners,” Cassia mused, a dreamy tone seeping into her words. “We could market that, you know. Candlelit evenings, and wine pairings, all overlooking the vineyard. Something special, not your everyday dinner out.”
Kris nodded. “I love it,” he said, relief pulsing through him. That fear that maybe she’d find the barn unimpressive or the challenge too big began to dissipate.
They had a shared dream, and he planned to make all her dreams come true .
Side by side, they sank deeper into conversation, as they discussed a plan of action, getting the structure assessed, electrical and plumbing upgrades lined up, and permits filed. Kris watched Cassia’s face light up as she talked about the kitchen layout, her hands gesturing animatedly.
Through it all, his bear hovered in his mind, quietly humming its contentment.
He was about to mention an idea for an open kitchen concept—something that let diners see how the chef worked with fresh local ingredients—when the barn door creaked. Sunlight spilled in, framing three familiar silhouettes. He’d been so enraptured by Cassia he had not sensed his mom, dad and Philip approaching.
“Are we interrupting?” Leanne asked as they stepped inside. “Finn just left so we thought we would come and find you.”
Cassia straightened, pressing her notepad to her side. Kris sensed a hint of nerves in her posture—how she squared her shoulders, her eyes darting quickly to him as if seeking reassurance.
“No, of course not,” Kris said. “We were just discussing the plans Finn drew up.”
Introduce her properly, his bear urged. She’s ours, let her feel that she’s among family.
“This is Cassia,” Kris said, sticking close to his mate, not wanting her to feel outnumbered.
“Hello, Cassia. I’m Leanne, Kris’s mom.” Leanne flashed her a reassuring smile.
“I’m Hugo.” Hugo gave a brief wave.
“And I am Philip.” Philip nodded and then cracked a grin. “You’ve caused quite a stir.”
“In a good way,” Hugo added quickly.
“Yes, we’ve talked and talked about renovating this place and expanding, but we never got around to it,” Leanne said as she looked up at the beamed ceilings. “But it sure has potential.”
“It’s a wonderful space,” she said, her voice gaining confidence as she spoke. “It would be perfect for a farm-to-table concept. The location, the history, the connection to the vineyard—it all tells a story that guests will love being part of.”
Hugo glanced at Leanne and reached for her hand. “Our story, I like that.”
Leanne squeezed his hand, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “It has been a journey, one I have loved sharing with you.”
Kris watched his parents exchange that look they’d had for as long as he could remember—that silent communication that came from decades of partnership. Something inside him ached with longing. Would he and Cassia have that someday?
His bear rumbled with certainty. We will.
“I’d love to hear more about that story,” Cassia said, clearing her throat. “The more I understand about the vineyard’s roots, the better I can honor it in the restaurant.”
Philip whistled low. “Oh, she’s good, Kris. Smart lady.”
Cassia blushed, and Kris stepped closer to her, a protective instinct he couldn’t quite suppress.
“We have albums and albums of photos,” Leanne said, her eyes lighting up. “Throughout the early years, all the way to now.”
“And stories,” Hugo added. “Plenty of those, too.”
“I’d love to see them,” Cassia said. “And hear them. There’s so much I need to learn—about local produce, the flavors people here expect…or what might be new and exciting.”
Philip flashed a grin. “The soil up here’s amazing. We could always branch out and grow some produce and Dad’s got connections with local farmers. We can get you everything from fresh vegetables to honey if you want to go that route.”
“It would be wonderful to showcase the town and the people who live here.” Cassia smiled, her enthusiasm contagious. “I’m thinking of a seasonal menu that rotates with what’s available locally. It creates anticipation and keeps things fresh.”
“And pairs perfectly with our wine schedule,” Kris added, unable to keep the pride from his voice. “Each season brings distinct notes to the forefront.”
“Exactly!” Cassia’s eyes met his, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the barn.
And in that moment he got a glimpse of their future, of the deep bond he’d seen his parents share his whole life.
“Shall we show them Finn’s plan?” Cassia asked, an undercurrent of excitement in her tone.
“Well, why don’t we all head back to the house?” Leanne suggested. “I’ve got a fresh batch of cinnamon rolls that should be just about ready. And I’ll put on some fresh coffee.”
“I’m in,” Philip said, his hand resting on his stomach. “We can discuss the plans over breakfast, and then I need to get started on my chores.”
“Mom’s cinnamon rolls are legendary in these parts,” Kris explained, his hand finding the small of Cassia’s back as they walked toward the door. The touch was light, almost hesitant, but the connection sent warmth spreading through his fingers. “She won the county fair baking competition three years running before they asked her to be a judge instead.”
“Oh, stop.” Leanne waved a dismissive hand, but her smile betrayed her pride. “It’s just an old family recipe with a few tweaks.”
“Do you have any other family recipes that we could use for the restaurant?” Cassia asked. “That would add such a personal touch to the menu.”
Leanne’s eyes widened with delight. “Oh my, I have notebooks full! My grandmother was quite the cook, and her mother before her. I’ve got recipes dating back generations.”
Hugo chuckled. “Some of them might need translation. The older ones have measurements like ‘a knob of butter’ or ‘cook until it feels right.’”
“I never heard you complaining,” Leanne said with a raised eyebrow.
“I never said they weren’t good,” Hugo replied.
“Good?” Leanne’s eyes narrowed as she looked at him.
“Careful, Dad, you are in dangerous territory there,” Philip warned.
“I meant they are amazing.” Hugo slipped his arm around his mate’s waist and pulled her close. “Just like my wife.”
“Good save!” Philip clapped his hand on his dad’s shoulder.
Leanne laughed and nestled closer to her husband. “You’re forgiven. This time.”
As they walked back toward the house, Kris couldn’t help but notice how naturally Cassia fell into step with his family. She asked Philip about the vineyard’s seasonal patterns, listened intently to Hugo’s explanation of the irrigation system they’d installed last year, and complimented Leanne on the beautiful flowers lining the path.
“I grew up in the city,” Cassia admitted as they approached the house. “But I’ve always been drawn to the countryside.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I love it already.”
“The land has a way of getting into your blood,” Hugo said thoughtfully. “Especially this land. There’s something special about this valley. Even if I do say so myself.”
Kris caught the knowing glance his parents exchanged. They weren’t just talking about the soil or the climate. The connection to their territory ran deeper than words could express, something Cassia would understand once she knew the truth about shifters.
Once I tell her, his thoughts circled back to his most pressing concern.
Soon, his bear insisted. I don’t think I can stand many more days of not meeting her in the flesh.
As they approached the house, the scent of cinnamon wafted through the air, prompting Philip to pick up his pace.
“Some things never change,” Kris murmured to Cassia with a smile. “Philip’s always first in line for food.”
“I heard that,” Philip called over his shoulder, not slowing his stride. “And I’m not even sorry about it.”
Cassia laughed, sounding relaxed. “I understand completely. I’ve never met a cinnamon roll I didn’t like.”
They followed Philip into the kitchen, where the warmth from the oven created a cozy atmosphere. Leanne immediately busied herself making a fresh pot of coffee while Philip grabbed plates from the cupboard.
“These look incredible,” Cassia said, eyes wide with appreciation as Leanne then set a plate of still warm from the oven cinnamon rolls on the table.
“Sit, sit,” Leanne urged, gesturing toward the table. “Coffee’s ready, too.”
As they settled around the well-worn kitchen table—a massive oak piece that had witnessed decades of family meals—Kris felt a profound sense of contentedness settle on him. Cassia fit here, at his family’s table, in their kitchen, in their lives.
His bear rumbled in agreement as he watched her accept a steaming mug from his mother. It feels as if Cassia is not the only one about to make a fresh start.