Page 21 of The Bear's Perfect Mate
“If you want. No pressure.” He set the bags down on the counter, trying to sound casual.
She studied him. “That’s very generous. But we barely know each other.”
“True,” Nero said with a quiet smile. “But sometimes you just have to trust your instincts.”
And fate,his bear said.Don’t forget fate.
Chapter Eight – Sophie
Was she really considering this? She must be crazy. But the kitchen was everything she needed, and the view…
She wandered to the window, gazing out across the mountainside. The morning sun painted the forest in shades of emerald and gold, while mist clung to the distant peaks like a lover reluctant to leave.
“Listen, why not just stay for the day?” Nero said, his voice cutting through her thoughts. “If you choose to find somewhere else after that, I understand. But at least that reporter will have given up and crawled back under whatever rock he came from.”
And he made sense. Complete sense. Or was she just fooling herself? Because she wanted to stay—not just for the view or the kitchen that would look perfect in her Instagram stories, but for reasons she wasn’t ready to admit.
“For the day,” she said cautiously. She didn’t want to commit to more. After all, she barely knew Nero. And she didn’t have her car. He’d driven her here. What if this were some elaborate setup? What if the journalist had been fake, just like yesterday’s proposal?
“Okay, let’s get some coffee on,” Nero said brightly, clapping his hands. “You sit and eat before your breakfast gets cold.”
He busied himself in the kitchen while Sophie pulled out a chair and sat down. After the events of the morning, she was ready for breakfast. She opened the bag and took out the still-warm bagel, biting into it with a satisfied sigh. Goodness, the filling was perfect. As she ate, she watched Nero move around the kitchen with quiet precision. Even in something as simple asmaking coffee, there was craftsmanship in his movements. He must give the same care he gave to his jewelry.
He set two mugs down on the table. The rich aroma wafted up, momentarily distracting her from her worries. He sat down and opened his bag from the bakery, inhaling the smell. Sophie smothered a smile, but he caught her eye.
“Hey, just because I can’t cook doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate good food,” he said with a grin.
She chuckled, the last of her unease slipping away. She might’ve made a bad call with Tito, but her instincts told her Nero was different—open, guileless, maybe even a little innocent.
They ate in comfortable silence before Nero asked, “So, what do you think of Bear Creek so far?” He nodded toward the window. “Aside from the nosy journalists.”
“It’s beautiful,” she admitted. “So different from the city. There’s a…peacefulness here.”
Nero nodded. “My family’s been here for generations. Something about these mountains gets in your blood.”
“I can see why,” Sophie said, sipping her coffee. “It’s inspiring.”
“Speaking of inspiration,” Nero asked, “do you have ideas for the recipes you’ll be working on?”
She shrugged. “Not specifically. I might sit on the porch and let inspiration strike.”
“Is that how you normally work?”
“Sometimes,” she said. “But I find inspiration can come from anywhere. It can be a smell, a memory, or the way light falls on fresh produce. Sometimes I plan meticulously. Other times, it’s pure improvisation. The fundamental rule is not to try to force it.” She tilted her head. “How about you? What’s your process?”
Nero’s eyes lit up. “I talk to whoever’s commissioning the piece and I try to understand not just what they want, but why. What story are they telling? Then I take all that and design a piece that’s specifically for them.”
“That’s incredible,” Sophie said. She had to admire his process. When she created a recipe, it was for the widest appeal. But for Nero, it was far more personal, far more intimate.
He took a sip of coffee. “But I also enjoy fixing old pieces. There’s something deeply satisfying about taking something broken and making it whole again. Giving it new life.”
A flutter stirred in Sophie’s chest. The way he spoke—with reverence and care—made something shift inside her. Could this man…fix her? Heal the part of her that still hurt?
It was terrifying and thrilling.
“I’d love to see your process sometime,” she heard herself say.
Nero’s smile lit the room. “I’d like that,” he said, eyes locking with hers. “Very much.”
