Page 34 of The Bear's Perfect Mate
She hesitated. Normally, she declined offers of help—her kitchen was her domain. But something about the way he asked—earnest and unassuming—softened her.
“Sure,” she said, handing him a knife. “Dice the peppers while I finish the onions?”
He nodded, washed his hands, and joined her. They moved in sync, adjusting without speaking. She handed him a bowl before he could ask. He passed her a spoon just as she needed it. When he reached for the oil, she pointed without turning her head.
Their movements were effortless.
Like Norman and Hilda, she thought suddenly. That easy rhythm of two people who just fit.
“What?” Nero asked, catching her glance.
“Nothing,” she said, smiling as a blush rose to her cheeks. “This is nice.”
“It is,” he agreed, and the warmth in his voice made something unfurl inside her.
She wasn’t ready to name it yet. But it was real.
As they cooked, she found herself sharing more—her cookbook idea, her dreams for something meaningful. He listened, then offered to connect her with local farmers and families.
“Bear Creek is full of stories,” he said simply. “You just have to know where to look.”
Sophie blinked. “You’d help me with that?”
“Of course.”
Because it’s you,his voice seemed to say.
And for once, she didn’t question it.
They ate as the sun set, their silhouettes framed by golden light and floating dust motes. The food was perfect. The wine, exquisite. The moment—unexpectedly intimate.
And as Sophie looked across the table at Nero, she realized something that made her chest ache in the best possible way.
This didn’t feel temporary.
It felt like the beginning of something real.
Something like this.
Chapter Thirteen – Nero
Nero had not slept so soundly for a long, long time. Usually, his nights were spent in his workshop, where he was consumed by his work. Even when he collapsed into bed, his mind still spun with designs that glittered like a million tiny stars.
But not last night.
After dinner with his mate, he’d fallen asleep almost instantly and slept like a log.
Now it was morning. His senses reached for Sophie before his eyes even opened. She was still here. Still asleep. He lay back against the pillows and simply...wallowed in her presence.
His bear chuckled.I don’t think wallowing is something you want to share with our mate.
I’m allowed to wallow,Nero retorted.
You can wallow and I will bask,his bear said.
Basking is good, too,Nero agreed.
But then everything was good this morning, because she had stayed. Nero smiled into his pillow. Despite the fake proposal fiasco, the snooping journalist, and the ache of her recent heartbreak, Sophie had chosen to stay at The Lookout. At least for now.
