Chapter 40
FORTY
A utumn twilight painted the crystal lake in shades of amber and rose as Meara’s boots crunched through fallen leaves on the path to her cabin. The lingering sweetness of carnival cotton candy still tickled her tongue, a sharp contrast to the bitter reality awaiting them. Behind her, Artek’s presence radiated warmth like a protective sun at her back, his fingers loosely intertwined with hers.
“I can’t believe you won me this enormous bear,” Frenchy declared, hefting his carnival prize with dramatic flair. His designer boots clicked a staccato rhythm against the wooden porch steps. “Though I must say, the real bears at the carnival were much more appealing. Did you see that one shifter running the ring toss? Those biceps could crush watermelons.”
Despite her exhaustion, Meara couldn’t help but laugh. “Wait, so you and Gustavo really broke up?”
“Darling, until he puts a ring on it, I’m free to window shop.” Frenchy winked, then sobered as they reached the door. “Speaking of my dreamy lawyer boyfriend, he and Daddy dearest have been quite busy plotting your legal salvation.”
Meara’s hand trembled slightly as she turned the knob. The familiar scent of oil paints and wood polish welcomed her home, but something felt different—heavier. Through the bay windows, she spotted Trey Ellis already waiting in her living room, security reports spread across her grandmother’s antique coffee table like tarot cards forecasting trouble.
Strong arms encircled her waist from behind, and Meara melted back against Artek’s chest. His lips brushed her temple, sending a delicious shiver down her spine. “You okay?” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin.
“I will be.” She turned in his embrace, stretching up to capture his mouth in a soft kiss. His grip tightened, one hand sliding into her hair as he deepened the contact. Heat bloomed in her chest, spreading like watercolors bleeding across wet paper.
“Oh my god, you two are worse than teenagers,” Frenchy groaned, squeezing past them with his prize bear. “Can we focus on strategy before you start making out in the doorway? Some of us are tragically single and don’t need the reminder.”
Meara broke the kiss with a reluctant sigh, though Artek kept one arm around her waist as they moved into the living room. The familiar space felt different now—her artist’s sanctuary transformed into a war room. But with Artek’s solid presence beside her, she found the strength to face whatever came next.
“All right, spill it,” she told Frenchy, settling onto the couch. Artek sat beside her, pulling her closer until she was practically in his lap. His protective instincts were in overdrive lately, but she couldn’t deny how safe she felt in his arms. “What has your dynamic duo cooked up?”
Frenchy’s eyes sparkled as he produced a thick manila folder with his typical dramatic flourish. “Only the most comprehensive legal strategy since Perry Mason.” He spread several documents across the coffee table, forcing Trey to quickly gather his security reports. “First up: something called a Quiet Title Action.”
“That sounds peaceful,” Trey quipped, perching on the arm of a nearby chair. “Do we tiptoe into court wearing fuzzy slippers?”
“Honey, the only thing you should be tiptoeing away from is those terrible bear puns.” Frenchy shot him a withering look that could’ve stripped paint. “This is serious business. We’re talking about legally cementing Meara’s ownership so thoroughly that the Lopez family couldn’t challenge it if they hired the ghost of Johnnie Cochran.”
Meara leaned forward, hope flickering in her chest like the first stroke of inspiration on a blank canvas. Artek’s hand slid to her lower back, thumb tracing small circles through her sweater. The simple touch grounded her, even as her mind raced through possibilities.
“Tell me everything,” she said, reaching for the nearest document.
For the next hour, Frenchy outlined an intricate legal strategy that left Meara’s head spinning. Quiet Title Action, restraining orders, property markers, title insurance—each layer of protection built upon the last like carefully applied glazes of paint creating depth and permanence.
“There’s more,” Frenchy continued, clearly enjoying his moment in the spotlight. “We’ll install permanent boundary markers that integrate with the surveillance system. Make this place Fort Knox with an artistic flair.”
“Northern Winds can handle the security upgrades,” Trey offered. “We’ve got new motion sensors that could spot a squirrel stealing acorns. Or in this case, a bear trying to steal property.”
“What did I say about bear puns?” Frenchy threw a decorative pillow at him.
Meara watched their playful bickering with a faint smile, grateful for moments of levity amid the stress. Artek’s chest rumbled with quiet laughter behind her, and she twisted to see his rare, full smile—the one that transformed his entire face and made her heart skip.
“I love seeing you happy,” she murmured, too quietly for the others to hear. His eyes darkened as he gazed down at her, and her breath caught at the intensity there.
“You make me happy,” he replied softly, one finger tracing her jawline. “And once we deal with the Lopez family, I plan to spend a lot more time showing you exactly how happy.”
Heat bloomed across her cheeks as possibilities flashed through her mind. Before she could respond, Frenchy’s voice cut through their private moment.
“Earth to lovebirds! Can we focus on the legal documents instead of eye-fucking across my careful presentation?”
Meara buried her face in Artek’s chest, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. His arms tightened around her as he growled playfully at Frenchy, “Watch it, or I’ll tell that ring toss operator you were drooling over him.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Frenchy gasped in mock horror. “Besides, I was merely appreciating the local wildlife. For artistic purposes, of course.”
“Of course,” Trey snorted. “Just like you were ‘appreciating’ the strongman’s technique at the hammer game?”
Their banter continued as they worked through the rest of Frenchy’s legal strategy. Meara found herself repeatedly distracted by Artek’s touch—his fingers playing with her hair, his lips brushing her temple, the way he pulled her closer whenever the conversation turned to potential dangers. Each contact sent sparks of awareness through her body, making it harder to focus on the serious matters at hand.
When they finally broke for dinner—pizza ordered from the local place that knew their regular orders by heart—Meara escaped to the kitchen for a moment alone. She braced her hands on the cool granite countertop, trying to sort through the whirlwind of emotions spinning through her mind like paint spatters.
The legal preparations gave her hope, but more than that, she ached for the peace to truly explore what was building between her and Artek. Every touch, every kiss, every shared look convinced her this was something deeper than simple attraction. Something that could last, if they survived the Lopez family’s threats.
Warm hands settled on her shoulders, and she didn’t need to turn to know it was Artek. His touch had become as familiar as her favorite brushes, as essential as breathing.
“Penny for your thoughts?” he murmured, massaging the tension from her muscles.