Page 5 of Bear’s True Mate

Her mouth fell open. Then it snapped shut, and those blue eyes went from annoyed to furious in about half a second.

“Are you making fun of me for wearing reading glasses?”

“What? No. I⁠—”

“Because that’s what it sounds like.”

“I wasn’t talking about your glasses. I was talking about you showing up at my door telling me to be quiet in my own house.”

“It’s not even your house. You said your friend owns it.”

My bear made a noise that resembled a chuckle. The bastard was amused by this.

“I live here,” I said, keeping my voice steady even though this woman was testing every ounce of patience I had. “I pay rent. I’ve been here for two years. You’ve been here for one day.”

“And in that one day, I haven’t had a single quiet moment.”

“Maybe you picked the wrong rental.”

Her eyes widened. For a second, her anger dissolved and became replaced by something else—exhaustion, maybe, or defeat. It was gone before I could get a good read on it, replaced by that same stubborn glare she’d been wearing before.

“I have a lease agreement,” she said, straightening her shoulders. “I paid in full. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I.”

“Then I guess we have a problem.”

“Guess so.”

She turned on her heel and walked back toward her side of the duplex. Her steps were quick and sharp, the kind of walk that said she was done with me and wanted me to know it. The door to her unit opened and closed with a firm click. It wasn’t a full-on slam, but it was close.

My bear watched her go. That was the only way I could describe it. He tracked her movement like she was the most important thing in his line of sight. His focus didn’t waver from her until she was out of my view, and even then, he stayed fixed on her presence next door.

What the hell was that about?

I stood in my doorway for another minute, trying to shake off whatever it was he felt. My bear had never reacted to anyone like that. Not to a friend, not to a threat, not to any of the women I’d dated over the years. This was different, though. It wasn’t aggression toward her or alarm. Honestly, I didn’t have a name for it, and the fact that I couldn’t identify it made it worse.

I didn’t like it.

Slamming my front door shut, I grabbed my beer off the counter and took a long pull. Then I turned the music up even louder.

3

ROSE

Imade a fresh cup of tea—lavender, chamomile, and lemon balm—to settle my nerves. It helped some, but not much. Nothing short of a miracle would help with all the noise coming from next door. The tea did help with the knot in my stomach that had been there since my conversation with my charming neighbor, though.

This isn’t a library, lady. Go be the quiet police librarian somewhere else.

I frowned as I dunked the tea bag one more time before tossing it in the trash.

The nerve of that guy. I’d been polite. I’d been reasonable. I’d even waited an entire day before going over there to complain about his loud music, and he’d looked at me like I’d asked him to stop breathing.

I carried my mug to the desk, set it down beside my laptop, and pulled my earbuds from my bag. If he wasn’t going to turn the music down, I’d drown him out myself. I scrolled through my phone until I found my writing playlist—the one I’d created years ago with ambient tracks and soft piano that usually put me in the right headspace. I pressed play, adjusted the volume, and opened my laptop.

The manuscript stared back at me. Chapter Three. The same place I’d been stuck for two weeks. I stared at the cursor, watching it blink. My mind went blank. I shifted my gaze to look out the window at the ocean. It was doing its best to be inspiring. The morning light hit the water in a way that made it shimmer, and the beach looked empty—from this angle, at least. There was no better place to write a romance story than from right here at this desk in this house with this view.

I could do this.