Andre Holt stood tall and broad in his Bear Patrol uniform. The morning sun caught the highlights in his hair. He reached for the microphone, missed it on the first try, then gripped the stand with both hands like it might escape.
"Good morning." His voice carried across the square, deep and rumbling. A feedback squeal made him jerk back, nearly knocking over the mic stand. He caught it, cleared his throat. "Sorry. I'm Officer Andre Holt. I'll be coordinating the Security Initiative to help protect our local businesses and residents."
He lifted one hand to gesture, then seemed to forget what to do with it, letting it drop to his side. His weight shifted from foot to foot as he scanned the crowd. Then his eyes found hers.
The transformation was instant. His mouth fell open mid-word. The professional mask didn't just slip—it shattered. Even from across the square, Joy could see his chest expand with a sharp intake of breath.
"We'll be... uh..." His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. One hand came up to tug at his collar, though it wasn't tight. His gaze stayed locked on Joy like he'd been struck by lightning. "We'll be increasing patrols and working with volunteers to..."
The silence stretched. Someone in the crowd coughed. The market manager shifted nervously beside him.
Andre blinked hard, shook his head like a bear emerging from water. His hand scrubbed over his face. When he forced his gaze away from Joy, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle jumped in his cheek.
"To ensure everyone's safety." The words came out rough, like he'd swallowed gravel. He grabbed a water bottle from the podium, fumbled with the cap, and took a long drink. Water dripped down his chin, and he wiped it with the back of his hand.
"If you've noticed anything suspicious, no matter how small, please report it. We're here to help." The words tumbled out in a rush now. He backed away from the microphone too quickly, bumping into the market manager. "Sorry. Thank you. That's all."
He practically fled the podium, taking the stairs two at a time. The flush wasn't just creeping up his neck—it had conquered his entire face, visible even from Joy's distant booth.
"He seems super competent," Holly murmured. “I feel safer already.”
Joy forced herself to look away, hands trembling as she straightened the already perfect soap displays. But she could feel him still watching. Feel the weight of his gaze like a physical touch.
"That's him," Joy whispered. "That's my mate."
Holly sucked in a breath. "Oh... wow. He's… uh… he’s really cute."
"I know." Joy's voice came out strangled.
Joy tracked Andre's movements as he stepped down from the pavilion and began working his way through the crowd. His path would bring him directly to her booth in minutes.
A customer approached, elderly Mrs. Chesterfield looking for her usual lavender bars. Joy had never been so grateful for a distraction. She focused on the transaction, counting change twice because her hands wouldn't stop shaking.
But she could smell him now. Pine and steel and the warm scent of sugar cookies. Her mountain lion rose up, pressing against the boundaries of her control.
Mate. Mate. Mate.
He was here.
Chapter
Four
Andre stoodat the edge of the market square, hands trembling against his uniform pants. The morning sun beat down on his shoulders, making his collar feel too tight. His bear prowled beneath his skin, muscles coiling and releasing with each breath.
He’d spotted her. Joy. Honey Lion. His mate.
The world narrowed to a single point. Her laugh carried across the square as she handed change to a customer. The sound hit him like a physical blow, making his knees buckle. He gripped the nearest tent pole. The metal felt cool against his palm, grounding him when everything else spun out of control.
Her hair caught the light, dark strands shot through with gold like the honey she sold. She moved with feline grace, reaching up to adjust her display. The shirt with tiny bees stretched across her breasts. His bear surged forward, desperate to claim what belonged to him.
Mate. Mate. Mate.The word pounded through his blood with each heartbeat.
Each step across the market square was a battle. His bear wanted to run to her, to gather her up, to carry her somewhere safe where no one else could see her or touch her or breathe her air. Andre forced his feet to move at human speed. Normal. Professional.
The scent hit him twenty feet out. Honey and wildflowers, warm female skin, the faint musk of mountain lion. His vision sharpened until the colors hurt. He could count the individual strands of her hair, see the pulse fluttering at her throat.
He forced himself to stop at the leather goods booth next to hers. The vendor smiled as he pretended to examine hand-tooled wallets and belts. His entire being focused on Joy just ten feet away. She was explaining the benefits of goat milk soap to an elderly woman, her voice warm and patient. Each word wrapped around him like silk.
