Page 42 of The Bear's Blooming Mate

If she admitted her feelings to him and he didn’t reciprocate those feelings, it might ruin the friendship they had. It wasn’t worth the risk. At least, that was what she told herself—but each time she saw him, it was harder to stick to that resolve.

With a deep breath to compose herself, she got out of the car and stood watching him as he approached. He was everything she’d ever wanted in a man. Not just physically, though there was no denying his rugged appeal. It was more than that. Philip was caring and attentive. She could see it in the meticulously kept vines, in the way his hands had gently guided hers when teaching her about irrigation, in the thoughtful way he listened when she spoke about her mother.

“Hi,” he said with a smile as he came toward her.

“Hi.” Elsbeth blushed, feeling suddenly shy. Taking a step toward him, she gestured to the sprawling property. “This place is amazing.”

“After dinner, I’d love to give you a tour,” Philip offered, his face radiating with well-earned pride.

“That would be perfect,” Elsbeth replied, hoping she’d make it through dinner first. Her stomach was already tied in knots, and she hadn’t even met his parents yet.

“Shall we?” He offered his arm, the gesture so old-fashioned and courtly that it made her heart flutter.

She nodded and slipped her arm through his. The moment they touched, that current of recognition flowed between them again. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. His touch left her feeling as if she could conquer the world.

Or at least, dinner with his parents.

With this newfound confidence, she walked with him to the house. The wraparound porch was adorned with flowering plants in terracotta pots, and comfortable-looking chairs that begged to be sat in. And the view… She stared out across the endless rows of vines. The view was to die for.

Elsbeth tore her gaze from the vines, and Philip led her through to the kitchen. The heavenly aroma of garlic chicken filled the air, making Elsbeth’s stomach growl so loudly that Philip turned to look at her.

She covered her mouth with her hand, mortified. “Sorry, I was too nervous to eat earlier.”

Philip’s brow furrowed with concern. “You shouldn’t be nervous. My family likes you already.”

Before she could ask how that was possible when they hadn’t even met her, an older woman came into the kitchen, smoothing down the skirt of her sundress. Her silver-streaked hair was pulled back in a loose bun, and her eyes—the same warm brown as Philip’s—crinkled with kindness.

“This is my mom, Leanne,” Philip said, his voice filled with such pride and affection that it made Elsbeth’s heart ache. “Mom, this is Elsbeth.” He said her name as if she were royalty, and in his presence, she did feel like a queen.

“Elsbeth, it’s wonderful to meet you at last,” Leanne said, stepping forward to envelop her in a warm hug.

The embrace caught Elsbeth off guard, and for a moment, she froze. It reminded her so much of when her mom held her that tears misted her eyes, and she could barely breathe.

Slowly, Elsbeth relaxed into the hug, her body surrendering to the maternal warmth as she rested her head on Leanne’s shoulder. She closed her eyes, allowing herself this moment of comfort that transported her back in time. It felt so much like her mother’s hugs that for a heartbeat, she could almost believe it was her mom holding her.

The kindness of Philip’s mom, a woman she had only just met, overwhelmed her. Leanne seemed to sense what Elsbeth needed, rubbing small circles on her back as Elsbeth took a shuddering breath, fighting back tears.

With a final squeeze, Leanne inched away, her eyes glistening. “Philip,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, “why don’t you pour Elsbeth a glass of wine? Your dad chose a couple of bottles specially for tonight. They’re on the counter.”

“Sure,” Philip replied, moving toward the counter, though his concerned gaze lingered on Elsbeth.

As he stepped away, Leanne straightened and placed her hands gently on Elsbeth’s arms. “It really is so good to meet you, Elsbeth.” She reached up and brushed a stray tear from Elsbeth’s cheek with her thumb. “And I want you to know that you’re a part of this family now. So if you ever need anything, even if it’s just someone to talk to, my door is always open.”

“Thank you, Leanne,” Elsbeth whispered hoarsely, touched beyond words by the genuine warmth radiating from this woman.

“Now, you sit down and…” Leanne suddenly turned toward the door, a smile spreading across her face.

A moment later, an older man with Philip’s same dark features entered the kitchen. His salt-and-pepper hair was neatly trimmed, and he carried himself with quiet confidence. His eyes instantly sought out Leanne, and they exchanged a look of pure love and connection that made Elsbeth’s heart ache with longing.

She stared at their silent exchange, mesmerized by the depth of feeling that passed between them. Then she looked away, only to find her gaze meeting Philip’s across the room. The same look was there in his eyes—that same intensity, that same devotion—and Elsbeth realized with startling clarity that the emotions it conveyed matched exactly what she felt in her heart whenever Philip was near. Or far.

Love.

Confused by the sudden realization, she looked away, her cheeks flushing.

“Elsbeth,” the man said, approaching her with an extended hand, “I’m Hugo, Philip’s dad. Welcome to our home.”

“Thank you,” she said, trying to compose herself. “Your home is beautiful.” She glanced around the kitchen, taking in the colorful tiles, the hand-painted plates, and the woven textiles. “Have you traveled a lot?”

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