Well, that went well, Nero’s bear said as they left Norman and Hilda’s cabin and headed back to his car.
It did, didn’t it? Nero was having to force himself not to smile like a fool. But it was hard. When they were inside that warm, cluttered kitchen, talking to Norman and Hilda, he’d felt like part of a couple for the first time.
And he was sure Sophie had felt it, too. That she was starting to trust him. To trust in the connection they shared. Because he knew she felt it, too.
As they reached his car and Sophie climbed inside, he noticed a shift in her expression. Something quiet fell over her.
“Are you okay?” Nero asked.
Sophie nodded. “I’m fine.”
“Really?” he pressed, gently. “You know you can tell me anything.”
She turned to him, her eyes bright with tears. “It was lovely to see what Norman and Hilda have. But it also made me...sad.”
“Why?” Nero asked.
“Because love like that doesn’t happen for everybody,” Sophie said.
“No, it doesn’t,” Nero admitted, “but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen for you.”
Sophie took a shuddering breath. “I don’t know…”
“Why not?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
This is a big deal, Nero’s bear rumbled inside him.
Nero resisted the urge to reach out and touch her and offer her the comfort he desperately, instinctively, wanted to give his mate. But he was afraid one wrong move might break the fragile bond they were building.
But she is our mate, his bear said. We’re supposed to be the ones who comfort her and make everything all right.
She is our mate, Nero agreed. But she’s also human, with her own feelings and choices to make. We can’t rush this.
His bear grumbled in protest, but he knew it was the truth. They needed to be cautious. Sophie had been hurt, deeply, and pushing too hard would only drive her away.
“I’ve seen what can happen when love goes wrong,” Sophie finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “My parents divorced when I was twelve. My sister’s been married three times. And then there was Tito...” She trailed off, her gaze drifting to the treetops.
“Not all relationships are meant to last forever,” Nero said carefully. “But that doesn’t mean none of them do.”
Sophie turned to him with a weary smile. “I wish I had your optimism.”
Just tell her already, his bear urged. Tell her she’s our mate.
Not here, Nero said. Not yet.
He finally reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder, light as a feather. That spark of recognition passed instantly between them and when her eyes widened, he knew she felt it, too.
“Don’t let Tito win,” he said, his voice low and steady, though every instinct in him screamed to kiss her. Kiss away all her fears and doubts and show her there was such a thing as true love, everlasting love.
Sophie looked up, her gaze locked on his. “I wish it was that easy. But it wasn’t just Tito. Jules wasn’t just my PA. I thought she was my friend.”
Tell her it was fate’s way of making sure we meet, his bear said.
Oh no, Nero replied. I’m not saying fate tore her life apart just so she could meet me.
When you put it like that… The bear sulked to the back of his mind with a huff.
Nero took a breath, his hand still on her shoulder. “You said that you create recipes for Tito.”
“I do.” She nodded.
“But you’re a star on your own right now,” Nero said.
“On social media,” Sophie replied, her tone modest.
“There you go, selling yourself short again,” he said, not unkindly.
Her lips pressed together. He feared he’d said too much.
“I’m not very good at this,” he added quickly. “But maybe…maybe this is the moment you needed.”
“Being humiliated by my boyfriend and my PA is what I needed?” she asked, heat flaring in her voice.
“To step out of their shadow. To claim your own light,” Nero said. “If you’d stayed with him, he would’ve kept you small. I’ve seen how people react to you. You have something special. And I think you’re meant for more than Tito ever allowed.”
She looked down, swallowing hard. “You might be right.”
“I am right,” he said with quiet conviction. “And I want you to know you’re not alone.”
She sniffed and brushed her hand across her eyes. “I think it’s time you took me back to my car.”
“You’re leaving.” He took a step back as if he’d been slapped. How could he have blown it?
“I have to,” she said.
No, she doesn’t, his bear roared.
“I don’t...” Nero began, but she cut him off.
“I mean, I have to go and grab my stuff from the hotel, and I need to do a grocery shop because your cupboards are bare. I mean, I’m good at creating recipes, but not from thin air.”
Nero blinked. “You mean you are staying?”
“If the offer still stands,” she said, a shy smile playing on her lips.
“The offer absolutely stands. For as long as you need.”
As he started the car, he tried not to show just how giddy he felt. This was progress. Delicate, fragile progress that he couldn’t risk shattering with too much enthusiasm.
“I should warn you,” Sophie said as they headed down the mountain. “I get up early. I talk to myself while I cook, and I take over kitchens completely.”
“That sounds perfect,” Nero said. “The kitchen’s been waiting for someone like you.”
And so have we, his bear huffed excitedly.
She gave him a sideways glance. “You really don’t mind?”
“Mind?” Nero laughed softly. “Sophie, having you breathe life into that kitchen would be...” He paused, searching for words that wouldn’t reveal too much too soon. “It would be an honor.”
They drove in comfortable silence for a while. Sophie let her hand drift into the breeze.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” she murmured. “About stepping out of Tito’s shadow.”
“And?” Nero prompted.
“And…I think you’re right. My agent’s been pushing me to write my own cookbook for months. Maybe it’s time I stopped ghost-writing and started creating something that’s mine.”
“That sounds perfect,” Nero said, unable to keep the enthusiasm from his voice. “What would it be about?”
Sophie’s face lit up as she said, “Simple, seasonal cooking using local ingredients. But not just recipes. I want to tell the stories behind them. The people. The traditions.”
“Like a culinary journey,” Nero suggested.
“Exactly!” Sophie turned toward him. “And Bear Creek would be the perfect place to start. The mountain honey, the local produce...”
“The vineyard,” Nero added with a smile. “My parents would love to have you visit.”
“I’d like that,” Sophie said.
As he parked behind her car outside the bakery, Nero felt a surge of protectiveness. What if that reporter was still lurking around? “Would you like me to come with you to the hotel? Help with your bags?”
“I won’t be long,” Sophie promised as she slid out of the car. “I just need to pack my things and check out.”
Nero watched her unlock her car and get inside, his bear practically purring with contentment.
She’s staying, his bear said triumphantly.
Nero waited until she drove away, his eyes following her car until it disappeared around the bend. He remained in his parked car, pushing his senses outward, scanning the area for any sign of that persistent journalist or anyone else who might pose a threat to Sophie.
I don’t sense anyone, his bear confirmed. But the urge to protect her was fierce. What about at the hotel? That reporter could be waiting for her there. We should follow her!
No, Nero replied firmly, gripping the steering wheel tighter. That would not be a good idea.
I disagree, his bear growled. Our mate could be in danger. We need to make sure she’s safe.
No, Nero insisted. If we follow her, we could ruin everything we’ve built today. She’ll think we’re stalking her.
But what if someone else is stalking her? his bear countered. That journalist seemed determined to get his story.
Nero pondered this for a moment, torn between his instinct to protect and his rational mind, telling him to respect Sophie’s independence.
Finally, he sighed and said, I think Sophie knows how to look after herself.
And when she gets to the hotel, she’ll be safe.
Julius and the rest of the hotel staff will make sure of it .
But despite his own reassurances, Nero remained in his car, his senses still locked onto the road she’d taken, straining to maintain that tenuous connection for as long as possible.
He could easily follow at a very safe distance, using his shifter senses to ensure no harm came to her without her ever knowing he was there.
The temptation was almost overwhelming.
“No,” he muttered to himself. “I need to take my own advice. I need to give Sophie the space she needs.”
With effort, he started the engine and turned toward The Lookout—his home. Their home, if she chose to stay.
For good, his bear murmured.
I think we can agree on that, Nero replied, allowing himself a small smile. We just have to figure out how to convince her to stay.
As he drove along the winding mountain road, he dreamed of a future with Sophie. A future filled with mornings waking up beside her, evenings watching the sunset from their porch, and eventually, a celebration of fifty years together—just like Norman and Hilda.
And for that, he thought, I’ll need a ring.
Not just any ring—but one that told their story.
Gold, warm and rich, like her laughter. A honey-colored diamond, maybe, or a sapphire the shade of the mountain sky.
Or a ruby to match the ruby necklace, his bear suggested.
Now, that is a good idea. His fingers itched to begin.
“I’m getting ahead of myself,” he muttered.
No such thing, said his bear.
As The Lookout came into view, Nero felt a new sense of purpose. He needed to prepare not just the guest suite for Sophie’s arrival, but himself for the journey ahead. Winning her trust wouldn’t be easy after what she’d been through, but some things were worth the effort.
And Sophie was worth everything.