Page 12 of Bear Naked Truth
She looked down, watched their fingers nearly touch, then curled hers into her palm.
“Don’t fall for me,” she said, trying to make it a joke but it came out too honest.
Dorian leaned back just enough to look her in the eye. She could tell he wanted to say something, but instead, he held it in took a breath and returned to sanding the window. Leaving Autumn alone with her nervousness of being seen and what the house really wanted from her… or from them.
6
DORIAN
Dorian didn’t do dates. Not real ones, not fake ones, and definitely not ones involving emotionally volatile beverages served by gossip-hungry potion witches.
There he was, standing outsideThe Spellbound Sipin his cleanest jeans and a button-down shirt that didn’t smell like sawdust or regret, waiting for Autumn like a damn schoolboy with a crush.
Not that hehada crush.
He had… interest. Respect. Deep, gnawing, can’t-sleep-want-to-watch-her-breathe-through-a-haunting-level admiration. That wasn’t the same thing. But he had to do this. She had been here a couple of days and he knew people were questioning his lie, so, it was time for a public appearance.
The bell over the café door jingled as he pushed it open, stepping into the warmth and magic of the shop. It smelled like roasted espresso and cinnamon, and something sweeter hidden underneath—hope, maybe. Or trouble.
Probably both.
“Dorian Hawthorne,” Nico Voss greeted from behind the counter, their voice laced with all the smug delight of someonewho knew things they shouldn’t. “We were starting to think you got cold feet.”
“Just warm boots,” he said easily, tugging at his collar. “She here?”
“Oh, she’s here,” Nico purred, eyes gleaming as they tilted their head toward the back corner.
And there she was.
Autumn Sinclair, perched in a candlelit booth like she wasn’t fully convinced she should be there. Her brownish-blonde hair was loosely curled, soft around her face, and her violet-blue eyes were wary as always—but they softened when they met his. Or so he thought.
His bear perked up immediately. It had been restless since she arrived—twitchy and over-aware, pacing just under his skin. But when her gaze touched him, everything stilled.
Dorian crossed the room slowly, every step careful. Measured. The fake-dating plan was hers as much as his now, but this moment? This was something else. Something unscripted.
“You clean up nice,” she said, voice wry, but her eyes flicked down his chest like she approved.
“You look like you just broke a poet’s heart,” he said. “Which, honestly, is kinda what I expected.”
“Flattery’ll get you a seat. Maybe.”
He slid into the booth across from her, the table small enough their knees brushed beneath it. Her boot was warm against his shin.
“I appreciate you agreeing to this,” he said after a beat. “Even if it’s mostly for show.”
She looked down at her menu—handwritten, enchanted to change ink depending on the drinker’s mood. Hers currently readguarded with a chance of emotional thunderstorms.
“You’re lucky I’m bored,” she said, flipping it closed. “And hungry.”
“Then let’s order before Nico decides to lace our pastries with truth serum.”
Too late.
Their drinks arrived before they finished deciding—two steaming mugs that shimmered faintly at the rim. One glowed a soft violet. The other pulsed gold.
“Special blend tonight,” Nico said, placing the mugs with a theatrical flourish. “Crafted to revealjust enoughto keep things interesting. Drink wisely.”
“Define wisely,” Autumn muttered.
