Chapter 6

The morning sun peeked through the brewery windows as Bram Hartley gathered his staff. "All right, team, the Harvest Festival is upon us, and we're hosting a key part of it." His deep voice resonated through the room. "We need to be on our A-game. Extra security, quality control, the works."

Nods and murmurs of agreement rippled through the group. Bram clapped his hands. "Let's get to it."

He strode to the brewing area, inspecting the special concoctions prepared for the festival. The pumpkin-spiced ale, a hit from previous years, wafted its distinctive aroma. Bram took a sip, savoring the perfect balance of spice and malt. "Excellent. This will be a crowd-pleaser."

A clatter of metal and raised voices from the delivery bay jolted Bram from his musings. He rushed over, his boots thudding against the concrete floor. "What's going on here?" he demanded, his voice cutting through the commotion.

The delivery driver, a wiry man in a fluorescent vest, gestured helplessly at the pile of boxes. "Look, man, I just deliver what they give me. If something's missing, it's not on me."

Bram pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache brewing. He knelt, ripping open the nearest box. Instead of the delicate string lights he'd ordered, a tangle of garish plastic pumpkins spilled out. "What the hell is this?" he growled.

The driver backed away, hands raised. "Like I said, not my problem."

Bram stood, his tall frame unfolding like a bear rising from hibernation. "Well, it's about to be someone's problem." He pulled out his phone, jabbing at the screen. "Hello, Margie? Yeah, it's Bram. Listen, we've got a situation with the decorations."

He paced as he spoke, his free hand clenching and unclenching. "No, I don't want a refund. I want what I ordered. The festival is tomorrow, for fuck's sake."

The conversation went in circles, Bram's frustration mounting with each insincere apology and empty promise. By the time he ended the call, his jaw was clenched tight enough to crack walnuts.

He turned to his staff, who were watching with wide eyes. "All right, change of plans. Jesse, Mira, I need you to hit up every party store in a 50-mile radius. Buy up anything that even remotely fits the harvest theme. Linus, get on the horn with the Whispering Pines Business Association. See if anyone has decorations we can borrow."

As his team scattered to their tasks, Bram checked his watch and swore under his breath. He was supposed to meet Tabitha for lunch in fifteen minutes. So much for a relaxing break.

He quickly shed his work flannel and pulled on a clean Henley, running a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to tame it. As he headed out, the weight of the day settled on his shoulders like a physical burden.

The short walk to the Lone Wolf Café did little to improve his mood. Thoughts of the looming festival and their impending "couple debut" swirled in his mind, a maelstrom of stress and uncertainty.

He spotted Tabitha as soon as he entered, her blonde hair a beacon in the crowded room. She looked up as he approached, her smile faltering as she took in his expression.

"Hey, everything okay?" she asked, concern lacing her voice.

Bram dropped into the seat opposite her with a grunt. "Decorations fucked up," he said bluntly. "I've been on the phone all morning trying to sort it out."

Tabitha reached across the table, laying her hand over his. Her touch was cool and soothing, like a balm on his frayed nerves. "I'm sorry, that sounds stressful. Anything I can do to help?"

Bram shook his head, but he didn't pull away from her touch. "Nah, my team's on it. Just... a lot on my mind, you know?"

Tabitha nodded, her blue eyes full of understanding. "The festival, our arrangement... it's a lot. Are we still good? You know I'm here for whatever you need, right? We're partners."

Some of the tension drained from his shoulders. "Yeah, partner." If only she knew how deep their connection went. She'd probably run out the door. There was no denying it any longer. She was his mate for pretend and for real. No matter how much he tried to ignore the mating call, Tabitha, his fake girlfriend was the woman meant for him. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

She grinned, squeezing his hand. "Crash and burn, probably. Now, let's order. I'm starving and you look like you could use a good meal."

"So, my aunt will probably grill you," Bram warned as they settled at their table. "She's notorious for her prying questions."

Tabitha laughed, her eyes sparkling. "I think I can handle it. I moved away from Whispering Pines as a baby, so I'm used to fielding questions about my family history here."

An elderly couple at the next table leaned over. "Newlyweds, are you?" the woman asked with a smile.

Bram and Tabitha exchanged a glance. "Yes, we are," Tabitha replied, taking Bram's hand.

The couple beamed. "Cherish these moments," the man advised. "The early days are so special."

Bram squeezed Tabitha's hand, playing along. "We will. Thank you."

As they left the restaurant, Bram's phone buzzed. "Trouble at the brewery," he grumbled. "Bottles popping their tops. Sounds like a magical mishap."

"I can help," Tabitha offered immediately.

At the brewery, Tabitha worked her magic, a calming charm stabilizing the errant energy. Bram watched, impressed and grateful. "Thank you. I don't know what I'd have done without you."

Tabitha smiled. "That's what partners are for, right?"

"Right." Bram found himself smiling back. "Come on, let me show you around."

He led her through the brewery, sharing his passion for the craft and the family history woven into the business. They ended up at the tasting station, swapping stories over samples of his best brews.

"This is incredible, Bram," Tabitha praised, sipping a rich stout. "You're really talented."

Bram felt a flush of pride. "Thanks. That means a lot."

As the conversation lulled, Bram hesitated before asking, "Tabitha, I know we haven't discussed your parents. They didn't show up for Liza's wake and you don't seem very close to them."

She shrugged. "That's because I'm not."

"Is your relationship strained?"

She frowned. "I don't know if what we have can be defined as a relationship."

"I don't understand. They're your parents. What were they like when you were growing up?"

Tabitha's smile faltered slightly. "Oh, they were... driven. Very career-oriented. Always jetting off to some magical symposium or another. I was often packed off to magical camps or academies. They wanted me to be the best witch, you see."

Bram frowned. Despite the polished veneer Tabitha painted, her childhood sounded lonely. "And your grandmother? Why the estrangement?"

Tabitha shrugged, her eyes clouding. "I honestly don't know. They never talked about her. It's one of the reasons I'm here, to find out. Liza was my grandmother from my father's side. He never spoke her name as far as I can remember. At least not in front of me. I heard whispers once in a while but not much. I don't know what happened between them."

Bram reached out, covering her hand with his. "We'll figure it out."

Tabitha's smile returned, warm and genuine. "Thank you, Bram. For everything."

As they prepared to leave, Bram turned to Tabitha. "I'm really glad you're here, Tabitha. And not just for the magical assist."

Tabitha's eyes softened. "Me too, Bram. Me too."

She left the brewery, her blonde hair flowing in the wind. Bram found himself lost in thought as he closed up the brewery early. His feelings for Tabitha were growing, blurring the lines of their arrangement. What had started as a farce was beginning to feel very real. He might not have wanted a mate, but he had one now. How was he supposed to make her fall for him when she thought everything they did was fake?

Bram sighed, running a hand through his hair. This fake relationship was getting complicated and it had barely started.