Leaving Ella at her parents’ house with his son was one of the hardest things Tate had ever had to do. Driving down the driveway, he gripped the steering wheel, feeling like a complete fool. He should be with them, building a fire and making sure they got the rest they needed.

Ella wasn’t ready to commit. She wasn’t ready to go with him back to his house. He could understand her apprehension intellectually, but emotionally it was killing him. All he wanted to do, in the depths of his soul as a man and as a bear, was to cuddle up with his woman and his child to keep them warm through the cold winter.

It took every bit of self-control he had to drive away and leave her alone. This was what she wanted, and he had to respect her wishes. Ella didn’t like that their relationship was predetermined. She didn’t like that he loved her because his bear told him to. She didn’t like the idea that there was no free choice in the matter.

He couldn’t really blame her. Part of him agreed with her. Who wanted to be in a marriage arranged by a wild animal? If it hadn’t been his own inner animal who’d done the arranging, he would have been on exactly the same page as Ella about the whole thing. He got it. He did. Fate meant something different for humans than in did for shifters. Shifters had a greater respect for fate and the workings of their inner beasts.

If Ella had been a shifter with a beast of her own, she would have been able to feel what he felt. Fate was not a one-sided matter. The bond between them included them both. He knew Ella felt as strongly for him as he felt for her. She had a rebellious independent streak that made her want to challenge any rules she felt were unjust or controlling to her nature. That fact just made him love her even more.

He admired that quality in her. It made her strong. But at the same time, it made things between them almost impossible. He couldn’t help that his bear desired her with every fiber of his being. Most women would be swept off their feet by that idea. Not his Ella. She resisted it to her own detriment. Nothing mattered more to her than making her own choices. He just wished she would finally choose him.

He drove down the hill from her parents’ house and headed through town toward the Montgomery homestead. He saw his brother Keaton’s car in the parking lot of the best fish and chips place in Juneau and decided he needed a hot meal and a drink. Keaton and Tate had been on better terms since they’d torn up his greenhouse and put it back together again. He’d even agreed to keep an eye on the plants while Tate was away in exchange for the key to the second hay barn.

Tate parked his truck next to his brother’s and went inside. He found Keaton at the bar talking to a pretty human tourist who looked like she was there for the skiing up at the park. This time of year brought an influx of winter sports tourists, and they were already starting to trickle in.

He sat at the bar next to his brother and Keaton turned to him, a pint of dark beer in his hand. “Hey, baby brother, you’re back.” Keaton was clearly already lit up from beer.

“What are you doing down here, Keaton? Shouldn’t you be up at the pasture with the herd?”

“No. I’m supposed to be down here with my new friend. What was your name again?” he said, turning back to the blond skier.

“Tiffany,” she said. Her tone gave away her irritation, but she didn’t stand up and move away from Keaton.

“I’m spending time with Tiffany,” Keaton slurred. “Where’s your woman?”

“She’s at her parents’ house with the baby. She needs rest.”

“Shot down again, huh, brother?” Keaton said, laughing and slapping Tate’s back. Anger rose in Tate’s chest and he pushed Keaton’s hand away.

“Shut the hell up, Keaton. Ella is none of your business.”

“Whoa there, bro. I don’t mean anything by it.” Keaton leaned back over to the girl and whispered in her ear. She snorted and then took another drink of her own beer.

Tate ordered a beer and a plate of fish and chips from the bartender. A moment later, he had his own pint at the bar. Keaton kept teasing the skier, turning Tate’s stomach. He knew that woman wasn’t Keaton’s mate. There was no way he’d get away with treating his fated mate like that. Whatever woman ended up with his tattooed, growly brother would have her hands full.

He turned to the sound of delicate heeled shoes clicking on the highly polished wood floors of the restaurant. Babs Bula’s white curls flounced beside him as she slid into the barstool to his right. This promised to be interesting. He knew about the shifter matchmaker.

He sniffed the air, wondering if the rumors were true. Sure enough, he couldn’t tell if she was a human or shifter or what. He found it extremely unsettling.

“Hello, dear,” she said as the bartender poured her a glass of white wine.

“Hi, Babs,” Tate said. Most everyone knew everyone else in Juneau, especially if they’d grown up there. It was hard not to know about Babs Bula if you were a shifter, particularly a single, young, male shifter. She tried to set up everyone in town. Somehow, she always played a role in finding shifters their fated mates.

“Tate Montgomery, just the man I wanted to see.” She ran her pink tipped finger around the brim of her wine glass.

“What’s up?” he asked, wondering what she could possibly have to say to him. He knew his fated mate. He’d known for years, and he was sure that Babs knew it, too. However she did it. She knew everyone’s mate.

“Where are Ella and the baby?” she asked. She wore a designer skirt suit with intricate embroidery that was probably hand sewn by nuns in France or something. He grumbled at her question, not wanting to talk about it with anyone, especially a thirty-five year old woman with bright white hair and red lipstick.

“They’re at home, resting.”

“I don’t have to tell you that she’s it for you,” Babs said before taking a sip of wine.

“No. You don’t,” he said flatly.

“What are you doing here when she is there?”

“Having a drink,” he said, irritation boiling in his gut. He was so tired of this crap. He had to give Ella her space, let her decide. His bear never shut up, his brother constantly gave him shit, now this woman with her fancy clothes and fancy makeup was doing it too. He couldn’t take it.

“Simmer down, bear boy. I have a bit of advice for you. That girl thinks she knows what’s best for her. But she doesn’t. She runs away from commitment like a normal person runs from an oncoming train. Just because she thinks it’s what will make her happy, doesn’t mean it will.”

“Look, I know that. I know she’d be better off with me. It’s obvious. Who would choose to live alone in a mobile home in Fairbanks when she could live with me in my house on the homestead? But it isn’t up to me to tell Ella what to do.”

“Isn’t it?” Babs said.

“No one can tell anyone else what to do.”

“I’m not suggesting you force her to do anything. I simply suggest you go tell that girl what’s what. And fast, before she runs off again like a scared rabbit.”

“What’s what?”

“Go tell her you’re in charge,” Keaton suggested from his left, smirking as the blond skier giggled.

“Keaton Montgomery,” Babs said, enunciating his name as if each syllable had special meaning.

“What? Don’t cast your eyes one me, witch woman,” Keaton said.

“I’m not a witch!” Babs said with mock offense.

“Whatever you are, lady, I’m not buying what you’re selling.”

“Fated mates wait for no man, Keaton Montgomery.”

“Fated mates?” the blond asked.

“Believe me, hon, you aren’t it,” Babs said, lifting her wine glass and winking at the girl. The blond skier frowned and picked up her pint of beer, sliding from the bar stool.

“It’s been…something. See you around, Keaton,” she said, turning away.

“Wait,” Keaton said, but it was too late. The skier joined a group of equally blond snowboarders in the corner. “Great. Thanks a lot, both of you.”

“She doesn’t matter,” Babs said.

“You didn’t have to do that. I was about to get laid,” Keaton growled.

“Your mate is out there, Keaton Montgomery. She’s just around the corner. Just you wait and see.”

“No thanks,” Keaton said, sliding from the stool himself. “I’ll take my chances with the skiers.”

“And your cattle,” Tate muttered the insult, but it fell flat. Keaton slapped him hard on the back as he walked away.

“Tate Montgomery, what will I do with you?”

“Nothing. I’m none of your business.”

“Everyone is my business. I’m the fairy godmother in Fairy Godmother Dating. It’s my civic duty to match up shifters with their fated mates.”

“Sounds like you’re a bored busybody with too much time on her hands.”

“Haha, Tate, so funny. Think what you want about me. But you’d better get back to your girl before it’s too late.”

“What?” Tate turned back to her but she was already flouncing on her expensive heels out the front door. Goddamn it.