Page 12 of Bear and Book

I flung myself onto the nearest stool, probably tracking in too much wet dirt from the streets, and announced, “Cass, I think I met my mate.”

That got me a raised eyebrow. Which, from Cassian, was basically the equivalent of someone else screaming and dropping a tray of pastries.

“I’m serious,” I said, leaning forward, elbows on the counter. “Yesterday, at the bookstore. Elias.”

Cassian didn’t even pause his kneading.

“You were supposed to be helping with storm cleanup,” Cassian reminded me.

“I was! His window was busted, the place was flooded, books everywhere. I fixed it up, and we talked,” I stopped.

I remembered the way Elias had looked at me from behind the counter, arms crossed like a barricade, voice rough like gravel. Those eyes. Gods, those eyes.

“—and I think I’m in love,” I finished.

“You think you’re in love with a man you just met.” Cassian’s tone was flat, but his hands didn’t slow. “Shocking. This has never happened before.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, this is different. I felt it. The bond. Like… deep in my bones,” I told him.

“You’ve known him for less than a day,” Cassian pointed out.

“Yeah, but you don’t get it. He’s…” I stopped again, searching for the right word.

Beautiful felt too simple. Sexy felt too shallow. Grumpy felt accurate but not flattering.

“Everything. Just everything,” I said.

Cassian dusted his hands with flour and gave me a long, unreadable look.

“So what do you want from me? A blessing? A recipe for seduction? I make bread, Leo. Not miracles,” Cassian pointed out.

“I want advice,” I said. “You’re good at people.”

He snorted. “No, I’m good at avoiding people.”

“Exactly! You know what not to do. Help me not mess this up,” I pleaded.

Cassian shook his head and reached for a bowl of proofed dough.

“Go ask Beau or Rafael. Beau actually likes talking about feelings since he mated Sean,” he said.

“Fine.” I slid off the stool and snagged a still-warm croissant on my way out. “But if this turns into the love story of the century, you’re not getting invited to the wedding.”

Cassian didn’t even look up. “Tragic.”

I found Beau in the front of the bakery, unloading a crate of apples onto the polished wooden counter.

The place smelled like sugar and yeast and that warm, cozy sweetness that hit you in the chest like a hug.

The apples added a crisp, fresh bite to the air, and the faint hum of the ovens in the back made the whole space feel alive.

Beau fit into the scene like he’d been born here. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, a faint dusting of flour on his forearms, and that ever-present grin tugging at his mouth.

Although he might look scary on the outside to most people, once you’d know him it was different.

He was one of those people who made you feel like you’d known him forever, even if the two of you had only spoken twice.

Being around him was like standing in sunshine. You didn’t even notice how much better you felt until you walked away.