Chapter Four

Zhang

I had a nameplate anyway.

For when I started my new position.

Being a supervisor was nothing I had ever sought or applied for or even mentioned the slightest interest in. But after a standing ovation…what's a guy to do? Also, the career-ending likelihood if I had said no. I had managed to bump it off for a couple of weeks, citing work on my desk, and suggested I take it home where I could wrap it up uninterrupted. Glen thought I was being responsible rather than reluctant, and signed off on the plan.

When I got home that night, I carried in a couple of armloads of paperwork, grateful that nearly everything I did was online. I set my laptop on the coffee table. It would take me about three days to do the work, which may or may not have been utterly honest to take the two weeks it would have cost me in the office with phones to answer and coworkers to help.

A lot of help…which I only now realized had probably led to this debacle.

Dropping it all on the table next to the couch, I headed out to the mailbox to retrieve the day's post. As I plodded down the drive, I organized my work in my mind. The sooner I got started, the sooner I'd be done and could spend the rest of my time in the hammock. And I could go to the lake for a few days when the weekend crowd was not packing the place with all the noise and trash they generated.

Grabbing the handful of envelopes, I sorted them on the way back to the house. Ad. Ad. Ad. The whole stack was destined for the trash, save one fancy envelope. I tossed the rest and continued into the house. It was probably some kind of advertisement, too, but the wax seal was intriguing enough to get past the front door.

I added the envelope to the top of the heap of work papers and wandered into the kitchen to make a tossed salad then caved and filled a pita pocket with lettuce and tomato, red onion and hummus. Yum! Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I carried my dinner into the living room and sat down, flipped on the TV to a streaming series I'd been binging, and reached for the stack of work.

My hand closed over the thick parchment envelope. I'd completely forgotten about it, but I had gone to the trouble to bring it in, so I might as well open it up and see what I got then throw it away. But the minute I broke the wax seal, all thoughts of being garbage mail went out the window.

"The Bearclaw Inn," I whispered. "It's real."

This legendary B&B plus and its owner Franklin were the stuff of urban legends, and, while I never had met anyone who had been invited, "everyone" knew someone who knew someone who knew someone who had benefited from the magic of the widower and his beautiful home. My hands shook as I set the envelope aside and looked at the invitation.

It seemed impossible that I, someone who was nobody special, a simple panda insurance guy, was invited to a weekend at the extraordinary Bearclaw Inn where—although the invitation did not mention the fact—everyone met their true mate. Their fated. Their one and only. I didn't know what to think or where to go with this.

I wanted to tell everyone I knew, but I wasn't sure if it was supposed to be a secret. Also, what if it worked for everyone except me? I hadn't dated in a while, and never very seriously. Until last year, I'd had an occasional hookup alpha, but he'd met someone "real" and moved away.

Of course, I understood. Why wouldn't he want the one person Fate set aside just for him? Our connection was more about physical release and having someone to go out to dinner with or a movie. I was very happy for him and his love and wished them every happiness. But their romance had left me floating a bit. It seemed like too much trouble to go out to the bars just for another person who meant little to me. I'd pretty well decided that love was not in my future.

And now this.

Wow. I set the card down then picked it up and read it again. Next weekend… I needed to go shopping because everything I owned was either work clothes or workout clothes—something to wear over my trunks on the way to the sauna and hot tub. If what I'd heard about the Bearclaw was true, it was a very nice place and would require something a little better than anything I owned.

I settled back with my pita pocket and tried to eat it with a huge grin stretching my lips. I needed to get this work done so I could be free to take my trip. Maybe by train? That was something I'd been wanting to do for a long time, and with some extra free days, this was that time.

Even if I didn't meet my fated, even if all the stories were wrong, how could I not be excited about this trip?

It was going to rock!