Page 32 of The Bear's Blooming Mate

His bear groaned.Don’t sell yourself short.

But Philip had never been one to boast about his skills, and he certainly wasn’t about to start now. He wanted—needed—Elsbeth to get to know the real him. Not some persona he’d put on to impress her.

Elsbeth moved to the stove, stirring the sauce, which smelled divine. “Would you open the wine? Glasses are in that cabinet.”

Philip retrieved two glasses and opened the bottle, letting it breathe. As he poured, he noticed the bracelet on her wrist catching the light, a delicate silver chain with a small rose charm.

“That’s beautiful,” he said, nodding toward it.

“It was my mother’s,” Elsbeth replied, her expression softening. “I thought... I thought she should be here tonight, in a way.”

For this,his bear said solemnly.The beginning of our life together.

“I wish I could have met her,” Philip said truthfully.

“She would have liked you,” Elsbeth said, turning back to the pasta. “She always said you could tell a person’s character by how they treated growing things.”

Philip chuckled. “Your mother and mine would have gotten along well.”

“I hope I get to meet your mother soon,” Elsbeth said, then flushed slightly. “I mean, to thank her for the wine. And I would love to see your vineyard.”

“Oh, she cannot wait to meet you,” Philip said, a little too enthusiastically.

“Really?” Elsbeth looked up, a hint of surprise in her eyes as she reached for the wooden spoon to give the sauce a final stir.

Philip’s bear groaned.Now you’ve done it.

He cleared his throat, realizing his slip. “Well, you know, the whole mix-up with Finn’s texts...”

“Oh, of course,” Elsbeth said, sounding a little disappointed.

This is a minefield,Philip said to his bear.

Well, you’d better tread carefully then,his bear replied.

Philip passed Elsbeth her glass with care, resisting the urge to let his fingers linger against hers.

She stared into the glass, swirling it slowly. “I should probably admit something,” she said, glancing up at him through her lashes. “I don’t really know anything about wine.”

Philip’s mouth curved. “Good thing I do.”

His bear perked up immediately.Teach her. Teach her everything. Start with wine. End with forever.

“Want a crash course?” he asked, swirling his own glass gently.

She nodded, and he leaned forward slightly, keeping his tone light even as his pulse picked up.

“First step. Hold the glass by the stem. Keeps your hand from warming the wine.”

She adjusted her grip, imitating his. “Like this?”

Philip nodded in approval, struggling to tear his eyes away from the way her fingers curled around the glass stem. An irresistible desire surged through him, a longing to feel the heat of her touch on his skin.

He cleared his throat. “Next, give it a swirl,” he said, demonstrating. “Not too fast. Just enough to let it breathe.”

She did, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“Now,” Philip said, “stick your nose in the glass. Seriously. Don’t be shy.”

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