Page 19 of The Bear's Perfect Mate
“Thanks,” she said with a shy smile.
“Nero,” Sally greeted from behind the counter. “The usual?”
“Yes, please,” he replied sheepishly. “I always forget to buy groceries.”
“I see,” Sophie said with a teasing glint as she gave her own order.
“I think we’re probably opposites,” Nero admitted as they waited for their orders to be filled.
“How so?” Sophie asked.
“You probably spend most of your day in the kitchen, and I spend most of my day not in mine.” He winced. That came out wrong. “I mean, I’m always in the workshop. I don’t cook much.”
“But we’re both creating things in our own way,” she said.
“I suppose we are,” Nero agreed. He glanced past her and frowned. A man outside was peering in through the bakery window. When he spotted Sophie, he raised his phone and snapped a picture. “Do you know him?”
“Who?” Sophie swung around and then covered her face. “He’s a journalist.”
Nero’s stomach dropped. “Do you think he’s here about yesterday?”
We can never apologize enough for that fake proposal,his bear moaned.
“No… I mean, I don’t know,” she began, just as Sally returned with their orders.
“Do you want me to deal with him?” Nero asked, bristling at the idea that this journalist might be causing his mate harm.
“No, it’s fine,” Sophie said, but as they stepped outside, the man moved toward them.
“Care to quote on the rumors that you and Tito were about to get engaged and he dumped you instead?”
Sophie went still, her face ghost-pale. Nero didn’t hesitate. He slid his arm around her and guided her to the car.
“No comment,” he snapped at the reporter, helping Sophie into the passenger seat. The man continued clicking.
“Sophie, did you come to Bear Creek to escape the scandal?” the journalist called out, moving closer to the car.
Nero felt the growl rumbling in his chest. His bear wanted out. Wanted to make sure the journalist got the message. Sophie was under his protection now and forever.
He swallowed it down. That was not a side of him he wanted his mate to see.
“I think you should leave,” Nero said in a low, dangerous voice. “Now.”
The journalist hesitated, then backed off, though he kept the phone raised.
Nero circled the car, not taking his eyes off the guy as he got in and drove away. The paper bags containing their breakfast sat between them, momentarily forgotten.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly as he pulled away from the curb.
She nodded, but her hands trembled. “I’m sorry about that.”
“You don’t need to be,” Nero said. “It’s not your fault.”
She stared out the window, then whispered, “It’s Tito. My ex. He must be feeding stories to the press.”
“Tito,” Nero repeated bitterly.
Finn mentioned him yesterday,his bear growled.
