Page 21 of Bear’s True Mate

“What the hell,” I muttered into my coffee.

My bear was relaxed this morning. I knew it was because of the porch conversation last night with Rose. He’d enjoyed sitting in the dark with her while the storm rolled through, talking about real things instead of bickering about noise and driveways. He was calm now because of it. Satisfied.

I was not.

I finished my coffee, grabbed my keys, and headed out.

Delilah’s Café was quiet this early. A couple of regulars at the counter, the morning light slanting through the windows, and the smell of fresh pie that meant she’d been baking since before dawn. I just needed a breakfast sandwich to go. I’d be in and out in two minutes.

“Well, look who it is,” Delilah said from behind the counter before I’d made it three steps inside. “Haven’t seen you in a while. What’s new, honey?”

“Nothing much. Just wanted to get a breakfast sandwich for the road.”

She jotted my usual order down without breaking eye contact and passed it to the cook. “And how are things with that neighbor of yours?”

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yeah. Fine. She’s fine. Everything is fine.”

Delilah set both hands on the counter and leaned forward, that grin spreading across her face like she’d just been handed a gift. “Nolan Bridges, in all the years I’ve known you, I have never once heard you use the word ‘fine’ three times in one sentence.”

“It’s early.”

“It’s not that early.” My sandwich came up, and she passed it to me.

“Thanks for breakfast, Delilah.” I handed her a twenty.

“You’re welcome, honey. Tell your neighbor I said hello.”

I was out the door before she could say another word, but I could feel her grinning at my back all the way to the truck. The woman was a menace. A well-meaning, pie-baking, gossip-fueled menace.

The job that day was a full yard overhaul for a couple on the north end of town. I pulled up weeds, laid mulch, and trimmed back an overgrown hedge that had merged with their neighbor’s fence. It was the kind of work that usually emptied my head, let me go on autopilot while my muscles did the thinking. Today, though, my brain wouldn’t shut up.

I kept replaying everything on the porch last night with Rose.

She’d been different. Not guarded. Not snippy. Just... Rose. And I’d liked that version of her more than I wanted to admit.

My bear rumbled his agreement, and I told him to stay out of it.

By the time I got back to the duplex, the sun was dropping, and my muscles were sore from the day’s work. Rose’s side of the duplex was quiet. There were no lights visible from the front, which probably meant she was at the desk by the back window, still writing. She’d probably been at it all day if her pattern held.

I showered, changed, and fired up the grill on the back porch for some burgers, nothing fancy. While I made the patties, I made more than I could eat, so I would have leftovers for lunch tomorrow. Not because I wanted to have company at dinner.

Definitely not.

The grill was hot, and the burgers were smelling good when Rose’s door opened and she stepped onto the porch.

She had her laptop under one arm and her reading glasses pushed up on her head. Her hair was pulled back in a messy knot, and she looked like someone who’d been staring at a screen for eight hours straight—tired with bloodshot eyes, but too wired to stop.“That smells amazing,” she said.

“Burgers.”

“I can tell.” She settled into her chair and opened the laptop, but her eyes drifted toward the grill twice in thirty seconds.

She clearly hadn’t eaten. I wondered if she’d even thought about food since this morning.

I flipped the burgers.