Page 22 of The Bear's Perfect Mate
She looked at him for a moment longer, then returned to her breakfast, trying to remind herself why she was here. Not to drool over Nero Thornberg.
But he sure wasdroolworthy…
“You’re welcome to use anything in the cupboards or fridge,” Nero said, digging into his own breakfast. “There’s not much, but the basics are there. Plus, there’s a kitchen garden out back. And I keep bees—if you need fresh honey.”
“Oh?” Sophie’s mind immediately began planning how she could use honey in her recipes. And not just desserts. “I might take you up on that. I’ll probably brainstorm today, then start testing tomorrow.” Was she already planning to come back? Perhaps even stay in the guest suite.
“The honey is special,” Nero said with quiet pride. “Mountain wildflower. I inherited the hives with the house. I enjoy watching them work. They forage on lavender, clover, and all kinds of alpine flowers. Especially the heather when it’s in bloom.”
“That sounds incredible,” Sophie said, her professional instincts kicking in. “I’ve been working on some desserts that could really benefit from something complex and floral.”
“Take whatever you need,” Nero offered.
She pulled out her phone. “Mountain honey panna cotta…a honey glaze for lemon cake,” she murmured, typing furiously. “Sorry,” she said, glancing up to see Nero watching her with amusement. “When inspiration hits…”
“Don’t apologize,” he said. “I do the same thing with jewelry designs. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night to sketch something before I forget it.”
“The creative process doesn’t care about sleep,” Sophie agreed.
“It really doesn’t,” Nero said, finishing his bear claw. “Speaking of which, I should probably clean up and head to the workshop. I have to finish up a restoration project.”
“What are you working on?” Sophie asked.
“An emerald bracelet,” he said. “I just need to secure the settings and polish everything. If you’d like, I can show you when it’s finished.”
“I’d like that,” she said, surprised by how much she meant it. She wanted to learn everything she could about him.
Nero stood and gathered their mugs. “Make yourself at home. The guest suite is upstairs, the first door on the right. And feel free to explore the kitchen garden. It’s just through that back door and down the stone path.”
After he left to shower, Sophie wandered to the kitchen window. The garden was bathed in the morning sun. Tomato vines clung to trellises. Herbs bloomed in tidy rows. Berry bushes sagged under ripening fruit.
This place was a recipe developer’s dream. The thought of working here, surrounded by fresh ingredients and mountain inspiration, made her heart race with excitement. It had nothing to do with the handsome jeweler upstairs, she told herself firmly. This was purely a professional interest.
But as she stepped outside into the garden, breathing in the mingled scents of basil, thyme, and sun-warmed earth, Sophie couldn’t quite ignore the flutter in her stomach when she heard the shower running above. She forced her thoughts away from images of water cascading over Nero’s broad shoulders and focused instead on the vibrant world around her.
She kneeled beside a patch of flowering herbs, brushing her fingers over the delicate purple blossoms. Bees hummed contentedly among the plants, gathering nectar for the honey Nero had mentioned.
“Mountain wildflower honey,” she murmured. “Perfect for a signature dish.”
As she explored further, ideas began flowing faster than she could process them. By the time she returned to the kitchen, her notes app was filled with potential recipes, each inspired by something she’d discovered in the garden.
Perhaps staying here for a few days wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. Professionally speaking, of course.
But when Nero reappeared in the kitchen doorway, hair damp from his shower, all professional thoughts left her head. How could she ever focus on food when he was around?
“Did you find your inspiration?” he asked as he crossed the kitchen.
It’s standing right in front of me, she thought as her fingers twitched, longing to run through his damp hair and draw him into a kiss.
“Yes, thanks,” she croaked, clearing her throat.
He gave a bemused smile. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
He poured two fresh cups and handed one to her. “I’m going to go…” He gestured toward the door, but she got the feeling he didn’t want to leave.
And she didn’t want him to, either.
