Page 38 of The Bear's Perfect Mate
And now, as he swallowed that first bite, Sophie realized she was holding her breath, not for professional validation, but for something far more intimate.
“It’s incredible,” Nero said finally, his voice low with what sounded like awe. “The way the earthiness of the mushrooms plays against the sweetness of the honey... It’s like you’ve captured the forest on a plate.”
Relief flooded through her, warm and sweet as the honey she’d drizzled over the dish. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”
“Sophie,” Nero said, his gaze holding hers with an intensity that made heat infuse her very being. “I wouldn’t lie about something this important.”
She believed him. And that was the strange part. After Tito, after finding him in bed with Jules, she’d sworn she’d never trust so easily again. Yet here she was, three days after meeting Nero, believing him as if they’d known each other forever.
“I was worried I used too much seasoning,” she admitted, fiddling with her apron strings.
“No, I think there’s just enough,” Nero assured her, already reaching for another forkful. “The balance is perfect.”
Sophie relaxed into her chair, watching him eat with real pleasure. She’d made four dishes—two savory, two sweet—each one a love letter to Bear Creek. The mushrooms were the forest floor. Then, a trout fillet poached and paired with pine and lemon thyme, echoing the mountain streams. For dessert, a wildberry tart with a honeycomb tuile and, finally, pine nut brittle laced with dark chocolate.
“You have to try this next,” she said, nudging the trout toward him.
Nero cut into the fish and took a bite. His eyebrows lifted in surprise after the first bite. “The pine flavor is subtle but clear. How did you manage that?”
“I steeped the needles in warm butter, then strained them before making the sauce,” she explained, pleased he’d noticed. Most people wouldn’t have. “I wanted the taste of the forest to be subtle but not overpowering.”
He nodded appreciatively. “It’s brilliant. I’ve never tasted anything like it.”
They moved on to the berry tart, and Nero took a moment to inhale the scent before tasting.
“This honey,” he murmured, “lavender, clover...and something citrusy?”
Sophie’s smile widened. “You’re good. Not many people would be able to decipher the flavors.”
“I grew up at the vineyard, remember?” Nero said with a modest shrug. “Wine tasting isn’t so different from honey tasting. It’s about paying attention to the subtle notes, and how they work together.”
“I’m impressed,” Sophie said.
“Not as impressed as I am,” Nero told her. “Okay, what’s next?”
As she reached the brittle, Sophie caught herself watching the way he licked a smear of chocolate from his fingers, slow and precise, like everything he did. Nero didn’t rush. He took his time as if everything he did had a purpose.
He lived in the present. Enjoyed the moment. Something she sure could learn from him.
“Oh, goodness, this is so good. You have a gift,” he said between bites. “The flavors are layered but never crowded. Just enough. Never too much.”
Sophie’s shoulders eased. It had been so long since she’d cooked like this, for the joy of it.
With Tito, every dish had been filtered through the lens of his brand. He’d hover in the kitchen, commenting on lighting or plating before she’d even finished a dish.
Nero asked nothing of her but authenticity. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t critique. He had simply left her to create, trusting that something beautiful would emerge. And it had.
The way he paid attention, without agenda or ego, made her feel more seen than a thousand five-star reviews ever had.
Tito had tasted to critique. Nero tasted to understand. And enjoy.
“I may have made a bit too much,” she admitted, eyeing the remaining portions. “Habit from developing recipes for group tastings.”
“That’s not a problem,” Nero said, eyes lighting up. “We could take the leftovers to the vineyard. Cassia, my brother’s girlfriend, runs the restaurant there, and she’d love to try your food. My parents would, too.”
Sophie blinked. “Oh. That sounds...wonderful.”
“There’s just one risk,” he said with a wink. “If Kris and Philip get to it first, there might not be anything left. Philip’s especially dangerous after a long day in the vines.”
