"Good man." Rollo nodded toward Joy's booth. "That's Joy Kincaid. Buck's daughter. Lives out on Timber Bear Ranch."
Andre filed the information away. Kincaid. The name suited her. Strong and grounded.
"I spoke with her earlier," Rollo continued. "She mentioned some equipment tampering at her farm. Moved beehive parts, a strange smell. She thinks it's nothing." Andre's bear snarled. His mate was being threatened. His hands curled into fists. "But with everything else happening..." Rollo let the sentence hang.
"I'll follow up with her." Andre fought to keep his voice level.
"Figured you would. Her number's on the security list if you need it for your report."
The older man ambled away, leaving Andre wrestling with his protective instincts. Someone had been on Joy's property. Touched her things. Threatened what was his. The bear wanted blood. The man wanted answers.
The crowd finally thinned at Joy’s booth. Andre approached like he was being drawn by a magnet. She counted bills into her cash box, movements precise despite the tremor in her fingers. Her scent wrapped around him, making his head spin and his bear rumble with need.
"I should probably buy something so I can talk to you." His attempt at humor fell flat.
"You don't have to?—"
"I want to." He surveyed her display, though he'd buy her entire inventory if it meant more time near her. "What do you recommend?"
She smiled as she explained each product with obvious passion. Lavender soap for relaxation. Coffee scrub for exfoliation. Honey oatmeal for sensitive skin. She gestured to the candles displayed on a separate shelf, each in a mason jar with a hand-written label. Vanilla bourbon, pine forest, honeysuckle bloom. Her eyes lit up as she talked about the honey from her own hives, the beeswax that formed the base of every candle, the goat milk from animals she'd raised herself. His bear purred.
He selected one of everything and ten extra bars of soap. She raised an eyebrow.
"That's a lot of soap for one person."
"I'm very dirty." The words slipped out before he could stop them. Heat crawled up his neck. "I mean, the job. Bear Patrol. It's... messy."
A smile tugged at her lips. "Right. The messy job."
She wrapped each bar in tissue paper, fingers making precise folds. Tiny bee stickers sealed each package. He watched herhands, imagining them touching him with the same careful attention. His bear rumbled loud enough that he coughed to cover it.
When she rang up the total, he pulled out his wallet. She held out the bag, and their fingers brushed as he took it. Lightning shot up his arm. Her pupils blew wide, lips parting on a gasp. The air between them was charged.
"Joy." Her name was a prayer on his lips.
"We should talk." She glanced around the busy market. "But not here."
"Coffee?" He seized the opening. "Tomorrow morning? I saw a place called Sweet Summit that looked nice."
She worried her lower lip between her teeth. His bear fixated on the gesture, wanting to soothe the abused flesh with his tongue.
"Okay. Tomorrow? I could meet you at Sweet Summit around ten, before I start prepping for next week?"
Tomorrow. His bear protested the wait, clawing at his insides, demanding he claim his mate now. Andre forced himself to nod. "Tomorrow at ten."
Another customer approached, and Andre made himself step back. The paper bag crinkled in his grip. A hundred dollars of soap and candles, and he'd buy hundreds more just to see her smile.
"Ten o'clock," he confirmed.
"Ten o'clock." She was already turning to help the customer, but he caught her glancing back at him.
Andre walked away on unsteady legs, his bear howling to return to their mate. Twenty-four hours until he could sit across from her, learn her favorite coffee order, discover what made her laugh.
He spent the rest of the market doing security rounds, but his attention never strayed far from Joy's booth. Every vendor had a potential vulnerability to assess. Every corner held a possible threat. He helped more people with heavy loads, fixed a cash register that kept jamming, even held someone's baby while they counted change.
Normal tasks were made surreal by the awareness thrumming through his veins. She was here. His mate was here. In twenty-four hours, they'd sit across from each other and figure out what came next.
Andre forced his breathing to steady. Control. He needed control. Joy had already seen him fumble through his announcement, already watched him struggle with the mate bond in public. If he wanted any chance with her, he had to be better than his instincts.
