Page 37 of The Bear's Perfect Mate
She belongs here,his bear said with conviction.With us. For always.
Nero sipped his coffee, trying not to stare. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”
“I have a few recipes I’d like to try,” Sophie said. “Maybe you could taste them for lunch?”
“I’d be honored,” Nero said as he ate his eggs. “I’m heading over to the vineyard this afternoon, if you’d like to come along.”
Sophie’s eyes lit up at the mention of the vineyard. “I would love to see it. If you’re sure your family wouldn’t mind visitors?”
“They’d be delighted,” Nero assured her.
More than she could ever know,his bear said.
“I’d love to feature them in my cookbook. I’m sure they have some wonderful stories to tell.” She looked up at him from under her lashes. “About the vineyard and raising a family. You must have gotten up to mischief when you were younger.”
More than she could ever know,his bear chuckled.
“Oh, they sure have a few embarrassing stories they could tell about their sons,” Nero said, color infusing his cheeks. “And we could have a wine tasting.”
Nice subject change,his bear muttered.
Sophie laughed. “A wine tasting sounds perfect. And I’d love to see where the grapes are grown—for research, of course.”
“Maybe you could incorporate some into a dish?”
“Really?”
“My mom makes all kinds of things with grape pomace—tarts, cookies, even bread,” Nero said.
“I have a lot to learn,” Sophie said.
More than she could ever know,his bear said.
Nero rolled his eyes.Is that all you have to say today?
And Sophie has so much to teach us,his bear murmured.
Yeah, she does,Nero agreed.And not just about food. But about love.
Oh, I think that is a lesson we have already learned,his bear said as he settled down for a morning nap.
Chapter Fourteen – Sophie
Sophie held her breath as Nero lifted the fork to his mouth. The bite held the perfect balance of the wild mushrooms she’d foraged that morning from the edge of his property, sautéed with herbs from his garden and a drizzle of his mountain honey. She’d spent hours creating recipes that captured the essence of Bear Creek, dishes that told the story of this place that had unexpectedly begun to feel like home.
But would he taste what she was trying to convey? Would he understand the language she spoke best? The language of food, of memories made? The language of her heart?
“What do you think?” she asked, unable to mask the slight tremble in her voice as Nero chewed thoughtfully. His dark eyes closed momentarily, and Sophie studied the strong line of his jaw, the way his expression softened with every chew.
Why was she so nervous? It wasn’t as though she hadn’t had people taste her food before. Her recipes had appeared in glossy magazines, been praised by critics, and devoured by patrons in Tito’s restaurant. But this was different. Nero’s opinion mattered more. Maybe because this food wasn’t about trends or technique. It was personal. It was inspired not just by Bear Creek, but byhim.
The realization startled her. Had Nero really become her muse so quickly? Yet there was no denying it. His dependable presence, his quiet encouragement, and his steadfast support had found its way into her cooking. And her heart.
Unlike Tito, who only valued her as an asset to his brand, Nero valued her simply for who she was. He’d asked thoughtful questions about her inspirations, watched her cook withgenuine interest, and offered his kitchen without conditions or expectations. There were no strings attached to his kindness, no hidden agendas.
Just a sincere desire to see her succeed on her own terms.
How could she not lose her heart to such a man?
