Page 52 of The Bear's Perfect Mate
“You don’t need his approval anymore. You never did.” He brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. “Would you like some tea?”
The simple offer that meant the world to her. “That sounds perfect.”
Just like the man himself.
Chapter Nineteen – Nero
Nero’s eyes opened to darkness, his internal clock rousing him well before dawn. For a moment, he lay still, listening to the hush of The Lookout. The space beside him was empty.
His bear stirred lazily.She’s working already,he murmured.
Nero smiled in the dark, picturing Sophie bent over her recipe notes in the kitchen below. Of course, she was. Tonight was her night to shine.
He rose quietly, slipping into his robe, the polished wooden floors cool beneath his feet as he made his way downstairs, his shifter senses drawing him to the kitchen.
There she is,his bear murmured.Our mate.
Sophie sat at the kitchen table, her hair tied back in a messy bun, several strands escaping to frame her face. She was already dressed in comfortable leggings and one of his sweaters, which hung loosely on her smaller frame. Before her lay neat stacks of recipe cards, arranged in precise order, her fingers flicking between them with focused intent. Her lips moved silently as she reviewed each card, occasionally making a small notation or rearranging the sequence.
She’s magnificent,his bear said with quiet reverence.
Truly,Nero agreed, watching her work with the same attention he gave to the most intricate pieces in his workshop.
He stepped into the kitchen, careful not to startle her. “Good morning.”
Sophie looked up, her face lighting when she saw him. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“Not at all,” Nero replied, crossing to the counter where the antique brass kettle sat waiting. “I simply missed your warmth.”
He filled it with water, measuring precisely before placing it on the stove. From the cupboard, he retrieved the porcelain dripper and filters, lining them up with methodical care. The beans went into the grinder next, the soft whirring filling the early quiet.
Sophie watched, a smile tugging at her lips. “You approach coffee-making like it’s a science experiment.”
“Coffeeischemistry,” he replied seriously, although he could not keep the telltale glint from his eyes. “Precision yields consistent results.”
“Says the man who routinely forgets to eat breakfast,” she teased gently.
He inclined his head, conceding the point.
She knows us too well already,his bear rumbled.
When the kettle began to sing, Nero removed it from the heat, letting the water cool to the perfect temperature before beginning the careful pour-over process. The rich aroma of coffee soon filled the kitchen, mingling with the faint scent of the cinnamon rolls Sophie had prepared the night before.
He set two cups on the table and sat across from her. Her hands still hovered over the cards, tension tightening her shoulders.
“You’ve prepared beautifully,” he murmured, reaching across to cover her hand. “Tonight will be splendid.”
She exhaled slowly, the strain slipping from her posture. “I keep thinking I’ve forgotten something crucial.”
“Your attention to detail rivals my own,” Nero said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Which means you’ve undoubtedly thought of everything.”
In the short time they’d known each other, he’d witnessed Sophie transform from the wary, guarded woman he’d met at the wedding expo to the confident creator now seated before him. There was pride in his chest, deep and fierce.
Our mate is extraordinary,his bear hummed.
Sophie looked up at him. “Cassia sent me a text last night. They’re completely booked. Every seat.”
“I’m not surprised,” Nero said. “The moment she announced your guest menu night, the phone never stopped ringing. My brothers have been telling everyone.”
