Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
M eara smiled, watching Frenchy work his magic on the increasingly entertained crowd. “He’s the best friend I’ve ever had. He’s been my rock through everything. The gallery opening, losing Betsy, all this land drama... I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
“Then he’s family now too.” Artek’s simple declaration warmed her chest. He said it so naturally, as if incorporating her loved ones into his life was the most obvious thing in the world.
The answer hit her suddenly—this was why falling for him didn’t terrify her anymore. Every day he proved himself trustworthy, not just with her safety but with her heart.
His thumb brushed her cheek. “What are you thinking about?”
Instead of answering, she stretched up to kiss him. He responded immediately, one hand tangling in her hair while the other pulled her flush against him. She lost herself in the kiss, in the solid warmth of him, in the way he made her feel simultaneously safe and thrillingly alive.
Someone wolf-whistled nearby. They broke apart to find Trey grinning at them.
“Get a tree, you two,” he called out.
Artek growled playfully. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“Actually, yes. Your mother’s recruiting a carnival games team. Something about showing the younger cubs how it’s done.” He jerked his thumb toward where Vida appeared to be organizing some kind of competitive strategy session. “She sent me to fetch you both.”
“We should probably...” Meara gestured vaguely toward the growing crowd around Vida.
Artek caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. “Later,” he promised, voice low enough only she could hear.
The promise in his tone sent shivers down her spine.
They spent the next hour watching Vida demonstrate proper ring toss technique (“It’s all in the wrist, dear”) while Frenchy provided running commentary on everyone’s form. Meara found herself relaxing into the carnival’s festive atmosphere, especially when Artek kept finding excuses to touch her—a hand at the small of her back, fingers brushing her neck, pulling her close whenever the autumn breeze picked up.
“Ladies’ room?” she asked after their third cup of cider. “Point me in the right direction?”
He hesitated, protective instincts clearly warring with practicality.
“I think I can handle this mission solo,” she teased, kissing his cheek. “Save me some of those nuts you’ve been eyeing.”
She’d barely rounded the corner of the restroom building when a sharp voice halted her steps.
“Well, if it isn’t the property thief herself.”
Meara turned to find a lean woman blocking her path, dark eyes blazing with barely contained hostility. Something about her features tugged at memory—the same harsh angles she’d seen in German Lopez’s face.
“I’m sorry,” Meara kept her voice steady despite her racing pulse. “Have we met?”
“Felicia Lopez.” The woman’s lip curled. “Though you should know that, considering you’re squatting on my family’s land.”
“Interesting definition of squatting, since I have the deed and documented ownership.” Meara lifted her chin, refusing to be intimidated. “Your family’s baseless claims and threats won’t change that.”
“Enjoying your time playing house with the sleuth’s golden boy?” Felicia stepped closer. “Think he’ll protect you forever? Accidents happen. Cables snap. Fires start. Who knows what else might?—”
“Finish that threat.” Vida’s steel-edged voice cut through the tension. She and Carys flanked Meara, radiating protective fury. “Go on, Felicia. Let’s hear exactly what you plan to do to my son’s mate.”
Felicia sneered. “The elders?—”
“Already know about your family’s harassment,” Carys interrupted. “One more incident and you’ll face sleuth discipline. Try us.”
Color drained from Felicia’s face. She spun on her heel, stalking away with a stream of muttered curses.
Meara released a frustrated breath. “Thank you. Both of you.”
“Nobody threatens our family.” Vida squeezed her shoulder. The simple inclusion in that statement—”our family”—brought unexpected tears to Meara’s eyes. “Come, let’s find Artek before he tears apart the carnival looking for you.”
They didn’t have to search far. Artek met them halfway, immediately pulling Meara close. His hands cupped her face, golden eyes scanning for any sign of distress. “What happened?”
She told him about Felicia’s confrontation, watching his jaw clench. But instead of charging after Felicia, he simply wrapped an arm around her waist, tucking her against his side where carnival-goers could clearly see his claim on her.
“They won’t hurt you. We won’t allow it,” he murmured against her hair.
She surprised herself by laughing softly. “I know.” The words came easily now, as natural as breathing.
His grip tightened at her declaration, and she felt the weight of emotion behind his silence.
A burst of raucous laughter drew their attention to where Frenchy held court among his group of shifters, now apparently teaching them proper runway walking technique.
“I give up,” one particularly burly bear called out, stumbling through his catwalk turn. “How do models make this look so easy?”
“Honey, it’s all about attitude!” Frenchy demonstrated a perfect strut. “You’re not just walking, you’re serving face! Channel your inner fierce! Work those cargo shorts like they’re Versace!”
“Should we rescue them from him?” Meara asked, grinning against Artek’s chest.
“Nah.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Let him have his fun. Besides...” His voice dropped lower, sending pleasant shivers down her spine. “I know a quiet spot behind the oak grove. Very private.”
She tilted her face up, pulse quickening at his heated look. “Lead the way.”
The rest of the afternoon passed in a pleasant haze. They eventually rejoined the carnival, Meara’s lips slightly swollen from kisses and Artek looking entirely too pleased with himself. She found herself truly relaxing, letting Artek win her a stuffed bear at ring toss (though she suspected the booth operator might have helped after a significant look from Vida).
As dusk approached, lanterns and fairy lights twinkled to life, casting everything in a magical glow. She leaned against Artek, breathing in his pine-and-rain scent while watching children chase each other with sparklers. His arm curved around her waist, thumb tracing absent patterns on her hip.
For one peaceful moment, there were no land disputes, no sabotage, no threats—just them, together, surrounded by the warmth of his sleuth. She could picture more moments like this, years of them stretching ahead. The thought should have scared her, but instead, it filled her chest with quiet certainty.
His phone’s buzz shattered the illusion. Though he tried to shield the screen, she caught the words “suspicious activity” and “Lopez property” in the security alert.
Her stomach clenched. Reality crashed back—they still had cut power lines, unknown threats, and a ruthless family determined to claim her land. But as Artek gathered Frenchy and led them toward the parking lot, his hand never left the small of her back.
The gentle autumn evening carried a sharper edge now, reminding them that their enemies lurked in shadows beyond the carnival’s cheerful lights. Yet Meara held her head high, drawing strength from the day’s reminder that she wasn’t alone anymore. She had Artek, his family, and the entire sleuth standing with her.
More than that, she had the growing certainty in her heart that what she felt for Artek transcended simple attraction or even affection. It terrified and thrilled her in equal measure—this precipice of falling completely in love with him.
Let the Lopez family try their worst. She’d fought too hard for her dreams to let fear win now.