Page 5 of His Determined Mate

Across the diner, Tanner and Joe entered and headed his way. They were both engrossed in their own conversation. Sitting down, Tanner eyed the distinctive red handprint on Rick’s cheek. “So, what did you do to piss off Hannah?”

“What makes you think I pissed off Hannah?” asked Rick trying to feign innocence.

Joe laughed. “Well, she damn near ran over the two of us as she stomped back toward the bakery and was heard muttering something about how neanderthals shouldn’t own public restaurants, and then there’s that telltale handprint on your face. Looks to be just about the size of Hannah’s hand, don’t you think, Tanner?”

“I do indeed," Tanner said, waggling his eyebrows. "Got her all hot and bothered, did you?"

Joe laughed "Yeah, Rick. You got quite the smooth way with women. What's your secret? Is it that grumpy bear charm?"

Rick rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his coffee to buy himself a moment. "Very funny, guys. Nothing happened."

Tanner snorted. "Sure, sure. We all know you're a real ladies' man under that gruff exterior."

Joe leaned in, a twinkle in his eye. "Come on, Rick. We saw the way you were looking at her. Admit it; she's got you all twisted up."

Rick felt a surge of irritation but forced himself to stay calm. "You're imagining things. She's just a girl who had a rough morning. Nothing more."

But even as he said it, he knew he was lying. The dizziness and nausea that had hit him the moment he saw her, the way his heart seemed to skip a beat whenever she was near—these were all significant signs he couldn’t ignore. And the overpowering sense of protectiveness that had washed over him was unlike anything he had ever experienced. Deep down, he knew what it meant. Hannah was his fated mate.

He couldn't tell Tanner and Joe that, though. Not when he was determined to keep his distance from Hannah. While some shifters could find happiness with a turned human, bear-shifters were altogether different animals. They were loners by nature and a had a powerful need to rut. While most of the year their sex drive was akin to other male shifters, from about mid-May through early June their need to breed was almost insatiable. Even female bear-shifters tended to avoid them. The last thing he needed was for Hannah, or anyone else for that matter, to know how deeply he was affected by her.

Tanner leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms with a smirk. "You can deny it all you want, Rick. But we know you too well. There's something about Hannah, isn't there?"

Rick met his friend's gaze, his expression hardening. "Drop it, Tanner. She's just another lowlander. Nothing special."

Tanner chuckled, shaking his head. "I’m not going to push it, but you’re not fooling anybody. Take it from someone who knows… those feelings you’re denying? They can get real complicated real fast."

Rick grunted in response, taking another swig of his coffee. He knew Tanner was right; he’d watched the hellhound succumb to those feelings for Melisandre, his drakaina mate. But it was different for him. At least Melisandre had been a shifter. Rick couldn't let himself get drawn in. With everything that was going on, he couldn’t put her at risk. He had to keep his distance, no matter how much his instincts screamed at him to protect Hannah. He could protect her from others, but who would protect her from him?

CHAPTER 3

HANNAH

Hannah stood in the middle of the bakery, worried that nothing was ever going to get done. Her hands on her hips, she surveyed the scene. The Northern Lights Festival was just two weeks away, and she was determined to have everything perfect for the grand opening. The scent of freshly baked bread mingled with the crisp winter air that slipped through the cracks in the old building, a building she had spent a lot of time and money painstakingly transforming.

The challenges had been numerous. The plumbing had been a nightmare, with pipes that seemed determined to freeze and burst at the slightest provocation. All of the old bakery equipment had needed to be discarded. Luckily most of it was metal, and she’d found a scrap metal yard that was willing to haul it off for free in order to recycle it. Even the old mixers had needed to be scrapped. If it hadn’t been for the bakery in Mystic River selling her their pristine used equipment, the delay in getting things shipped to Kodiak would have meant there would have been no way to open on time.

And then there were the endless permits and inspections, each hurdle more frustrating than the last. But she had faced each one with determination, knowing that her dream was worth the effort. She was not going to let anything or anyone stand in her way.

Today, the bakery was a hive of activity. The shelves were being stocked with jars of organic homemade jams and preserves she’d been able to source locally. The display cases would remain empty. Right now, she was experimenting with her recipes and revising them to work in Alaska’s frigid climate. She was using her ‘experiments’ to attract people into the bakery, giving them away for free in return for an honest assessment. She was already attracting a group of regulars, including a number of hunky firemen. Hannah wiped a smudge of flour from her cheek, her heart swelling with pride as she looked around.

"Hey, Hannah, where do you want these?" called Melisandre, who had become a close friend. She was actually an arson investigator, but she had some time off and was helping out in exchange for baking lessons. Melisandre couldn’t cook, but her fiancé, Tanner didn’t seem to care. Melisandre was holding up a box of festive northern lights-themed decorations.

"Just put those in the back where the new counter is going to go." Hannah replied, pointing to an area of the kitchen where there was a small table adorned with twinkling fairy lights.

Hannah had opted to have an open kitchen so people could see her working. People were always intrigued with how things were made. Besides it meant when she was in the bakery alone, she could float between the kitchen and the front of the house seamlessly.

She moved to the counter, where a line of bread loaves waited to be scored and baked. She picked up her knife and got to work, the familiar rhythm of the task calming her nerves. Each slash was a reminder of how far she had come, from her first tentative steps into the bakery to this moment, on the cusp of her grand opening.

"How are we doing on the coffee station?" she asked, glancing over at Joe, who was doing a lot of her contracting work in exchange for a year’s worth of free pastries for his climbing shop, Over the Top.

"Almost ready," Joe said, adjusting the fit of the stone countertop. "Just need to get this sucker to fit. I want it nice and tight."

Hannah nodded, pleased. The coffee station was crucial; she knew that a good cup of coffee would be a big draw, especially during the festival. She meant for the coffee to be her loss leader. She would only charge what was necessary to cover its cost.

She was gearing up for the Northern Lights Festival. According to Nicole, it brought in tourists and locals alike, all eager to celebrate under the dazzling aurora borealis. It was the perfect opportunity to introduce her bakery to the community at large, including the cruise ships.

The bell over the front door jingled as it opened, and Hannah looked up to see a delivery man struggling with a large box. "Where do you want this?" he grunted.