Chapter Two – Matt
An hour until they opened, and already things were not going to plan. Their newest employee, Rachel, was laid up at home with a sprained ankle, which would leave them short-handed on a fully booked Saturday lunchtime.
That was the only reason he’d agreed to Rachel’s friend Tessa, who was visiting from out of town, stepping in.
Not that it wasn’t good of Tessa to offer. But an inexperienced staff member could be worse than no staff member.
Maybe Rachel’s accident is not an accident, Matt’s bear said. Maybe fate is stepping in to bring us our mate. Just as it accidentally brought Hannah into Caleb’s life.
Matt sighed with open longing at the idea of his brother finding his mate a couple of weeks ago. I don’t think fate would be that obvious.
Perhaps Elliot has found his mate on his travels, Matt’s bear mused.
Perhaps, Matt agreed as he efficiently minced garlic with practiced precision. His younger brother had been backpacking through Europe for the past six months, ostensibly collecting recipes for the restaurant, but who knew what—or who—else he might find.
Maybe he’s collected the perfect mate instead of the perfect recipe. Matt chuckled, the knife never faltering in its rhythm.
His bear rumbled with amusement. I wouldn’t complain if fate chose us next. Though I’d be happy for any of our brothers.
Matt nodded absently as he swept the minced garlic into a small bowl and reached for an onion. Seeing their brother Caleb meet his mate had given them hope that it wasn’t too late for any of them.
It had also made them more impatient for fate to step in and find their bonded mate.But that was a dream. The restaurant was real.
Making sure the diners who passed through the door were served the best food and had the best experience meant a lot to Matt, as it did to the rest of his family.
Maybe we should call Mom and Dad and ask them to step in for the lunchtime shift today, his bear said.
No, Matt replied. They are heading over to the vineyard for lunch. They’ve been looking forward to it for ages. You know how hard it is for Dad to get all his brothers together under one roof.
Six brothers. Six mates. Who had all had six sons.
Matt hoped one day he and his own brothers would have the same problem.
Yes, that would be a good problem to have, his bear answered happily.
So, we’ll manage, whatever Tessa’s like, he said. Rachel’s friend can’t be worse than that college kid we hired last summer.
His bear snorted at the memory. The one who dropped an entire tray of desserts?
Exactly. Matt’s hands moved with a skillfulness honed over hours in the kitchen, dicing the onion into perfect, even cubes. As long as she can carry plates and take orders without…
The thought died mid-sentence.
Something shifted in the air. Not a sound or a smell, something more fundamental, like a change in atmospheric pressure. Matt froze, knife hovering above the cutting board as every nerve ending in his body suddenly went on high alert.
There’s something out there, his bear said, suddenly fully awake and pushing against his consciousness.
Matt couldn’t answer as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. A strange sensation pulled at his sternum, as if an invisible thread had hooked beneath his ribs and was drawing him toward the front of the restaurant.
His heartbeat sped up without reason. The kitchen around him blurred at the edges, his focus narrowing to that strange, compelling tug.
She’s coming, his bear whispered with absolute certainty.
She? Matt managed, but even as he asked, he knew.
His bear rose within him, suddenly alert, possessive, reverent. Mate. She’s close. She’s ours.
It can’t be, Matt whispered, but his body betrayed him. His pulse thundered in his ears. His skin prickled with awareness. The knife in his hand trembled slightly before he set it carefully on the cutting board.
It’s her. It has to be. We’ve waited so long.
Matt gripped the edge of the counter, trying to ground himself. This couldn’t be happening. Not today, not during the lunch rush, not when they were already short-staffed and…
Oh yes, it can! his bear crowed happily.
The front door opened. She was here.
He knew it with bone-deep certainty, despite being unable to see from the kitchen. The tug beneath his ribs intensified, becoming nearly painful in its insistence.
His bear pushed against his control, desperate to see her, to claim her, to make her his.
“I’m looking for Matt Thornberg?” Her voice carried across the restaurant, and Matt’s bear surged forward with such force that he had to brace himself against the counter.
Ours. The recognition slammed into him, leaving him breathless. Unable to form words.
Can it possibly be? Had Fate finally shown up for them?
Yes! Matt’s bear roared with triumph inside him, nearly overwhelming his human consciousness. The sound reverberated through his body, though no one else could hear it. She’s ours. She’s finally here.
“I’ll be back shortly,” Matt managed to say to his sous chef, Alan, forcing his voice to remain steady when everything inside him wanted to howl with recognition.
Control. He needed control. The restaurant would open in less than an hour. They had reservations for every table. He was responsible for the kitchen, for his staff, for the Thornberg reputation his family had built over generations. He couldn’t afford to lose focus now.
But his bear disagreed, pushing against the confines of his human form. Go to her. Claim her. She’s waiting.
No claiming. Not now, Matt muttered, straightening his shoulders as he walked toward the dining room. Each step closer to her intensified the bond, the invisible thread between them pulling tighter, making his skin feel too small for his body.
When he rounded the corner and saw her fully, the world tilted on its axis.
She was even more beautiful than he could have dared hope—warm amber eyes, a gentle curve to her lips, the subtle scent of her skin like mountain air after a rainstorm.
The bond between them solidified, no longer just a tug but a solid connection that Matt could almost touch—like a gossamer thread binding his soul to hers.
“I’m Matt Thornberg,” he said, extending his hand and silently praying she couldn’t feel its slight tremor. “You must be Rachel’s friend. Tessa.”
“Tessa Johnson.” Her hand slipped into his, small but strong, and the contact sent a jolt of electricity up his arm. When her eyes widened, he knew she felt it too. “Thank you for letting me help out today. Rachel didn’t want to let you down.”
Her voice washed over him like warm honey, and his bear purred with satisfaction. She’s here. She’s actually here.
Matt forced his face to remain neutral, though he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and breathe her in. “No trouble. We appreciate you stepping in.” He gestured toward the back. “Let me show you around quickly before we open.”
Professional. Keep it professional. The mantra repeated in his head as he led her through the restaurant, explaining the table layout, the ordering system, and where to find extra napkins and silverware.
All the while, his bear cataloged every detail about her—the way she moved, how she nodded attentively at his instructions, the slight furrow between her brows when she concentrated.
“The kitchen is back here,” he said, pushing through the swinging doors. “This is where I’ll be if you need anything.”
“Nice.” Tessa nodded as she assessed the kitchen. “I like how you’ve kept some of the original features.”
“It helps us remember where we came from and how our family built this restaurant from nothing,” Matt said, a little wistfully.
His parents had never voiced their fears, but he knew, as they’d watched their sons grow older with no sign of them finding mates, they’d grown concerned that there might not be another generation of Thornbergs to carry on the tradition of serving good food to the good people of Bear Creek.
“I like that.” She turned to him and smiled, and his knees went weak. How was he ever going to get through this shift without making a fool of himself?
“I think we’ve covered everything,” Matt continued, keeping his voice even through sheer force of will. “And if you have questions, either ask me or Jenny. She’s been serving here for years. She can help you.”
Tessa nodded, her eyes taking in the bustling kitchen with quiet assessment. “I’ll try not to let you down.”
“You’ll be fine,” he said, giving her what he hoped was a confidence-boosting smile.
It looks like a grimace, his bear said, full of mischievous joy.Not helping, Matt replied.
“Okay…” She nodded and took a breath, her nerves showing for the first time. “I will get to work.”
“Great.” He watched her go, resisting the temptation to follow her around like a lost puppy.
“Matt!” Alan called from the kitchen.
“Coming!”
The lunch service began, and Matt forced himself to focus on the rhythm of the kitchen, the orders coming in, the plates going out. But his awareness of Tessa never dimmed. He could sense her movements throughout the restaurant as if she carried a beacon only he could see.
We shouldn’t be watching, his bear complained when Matt’s eyes followed her for the third time in as many minutes. We should be by her side, helping her.
We’re running a kitchen, Matt reminded his bear. She’s doing fine.
And she was. Tessa moved through the dining room with surprising confidence for someone unfamiliar with the layout. She took orders efficiently, remembered which tables needed refills, and maintained a warm but professional demeanor with the customers.
Until the gravy boat incident.
Matt saw it happen as if in slow motion. A customer gestured too broadly, catching the edge of the gravy boat as Tessa leaned in to set down a plate. The boat tipped, sending a stream of rich brown gravy directly toward an elderly woman’s cream-colored blouse.
His bear surged forward, ready to leap to Tessa’s aid, but before Matt could even move, Tessa had snatched up a napkin and intercepted the gravy mid-air. A few drops splattered on the tablecloth and the floor, but she’d saved the woman’s outfit.
“I am so sorry about that,” Tessa said smoothly, already dabbing at the small spots on the table. “Let me get you a fresh gravy boat right away.”
The elderly woman looked startled, then impressed. “My goodness, what quick reflexes! Thank you, dear.”
Tessa smiled—a genuine smile that made the corners of her eyes crinkle slightly—and Matt felt his chest tighten at the sight. “No problem at all. I’ll be right back with that gravy.”
See? His bear said smugly. Perfect reflexes. Perfect instincts. Perfect mate.
Matt couldn’t argue with that assessment. He watched as Tessa handled the situation with calm efficiency, returning with fresh gravy and checking on the table throughout their meal.
She didn’t need rescuing. She didn’t panic. She just... handled it.
And now she was coming his way!
“Good catch,” he said, keeping his tone even despite the way his bear pushed against his control, urging him to say more, do more. “You handled that gravy situation well.”
Tessa looked up, a hint of surprise crossing her features. “Thanks. It wasn’t my first spill.” A small smile played at the corner of her mouth. “Though usually, I’m the one dodging debris like a contestant on a cooking show gone wrong.”
The simple joke sent a wave of warmth through Matt that had nothing to do with the kitchen heat.
His bear preened at the interaction. See? She has a sense of humor, too. Perfect.
Matt cleared his throat, forcing his focus back to practicalities. “How long is Rachel likely to be off?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’ll know more tonight when the swelling goes down.
But a few days. Maybe a week,” Tessa replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
The casual gesture drew his eye to the gentle curve of her neck, and he had to force his gaze away.
“I told her I’d help as long as she needs me. ”
A few days. Maybe more. Matt’s bear rumbled with satisfaction while his human side processed the implications. Days of seeing her, working alongside her, learning her habits and quirks. Days of fighting this overwhelming pull toward her while maintaining professional distance.
“That works for us,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat again. “We appreciate it.”
Tell her more, his bear urged. Tell her she belongs here. Tell her she’s ours.
Not yet, Matt countered. She just got here. She doesn’t even know what we are.
Then tell her!