Chapter 9 #2
“Marcy.” Her voice cracked as Dungar carefully lowered her daughter to the ground. She dropped to her knees, pulling the little girl into a fierce hug. “Oh, sweetheart, you scared Mommy so much.”
“I’m sorry. But I had to save him.” Marcy gestured to the luminook still cradled in my arms.
Lauren’s eyes filled with tears as she looked our way. “Thank you both. I don’t know how to repay you.”
“No need,” Dungar said gruffly. “We’re just glad she’s safe.”
Ava joined us and the two women introduced themselves.
“I’m a photographer,” Ava said. “And I happened to capture some beautiful images of your daughter with the luminook, plus the rescue. Would you be interested in seeing them? I’d love your permission to share the story. It’s quite magical.”
Lauren glanced between us.
“She’s been professional and respectful,” I said. “And she’s agreed to blur faces for privacy.”
“The photos really are stunning.” Ava showed Lauren the camera’s display screen. “I can send you copies and give you final approval before anything goes public.”
Lauren’s expression softened as she scrolled through the images of Marcy glowing in the luminook’s light, the tender way Dungar had lifted her onto his shoulders, and the wonder on her daughter’s face.
“These are beautiful. Yes, you have my permission.” Lauren handed over her contact information.
“I’ll send links to all of you once the story goes live,” Ava said, tucking her camera into her bag.
After the photographer left, Marcy started telling her story about how she’d rescued the luminook.
Lauren shook her head as she looked our way. “Marcy has quite the imagination, don’t you, sweetie? She’s always creating elaborate adventure stories. Last week, she tried to convince her teacher that our mailman was a secret agent.”
“He is, Mommy,” Marcy said with a yawn. “He wears pink too.”
“I see.” Lauren’s sparkling eyes met mine. “Lots of pink going around.”
“It’s true.” Marcy’s lower lip trembled.
“If you say so. She’s been obsessed with rescue stories lately.” Lauren stroked Marcy’s hair as the child leaned against her side.
As word spread that Marcy had been found safe, the searchers began dispersing, clapping Dungar and I on the back and offering their congratulations. The crisis that had mobilized half the town was officially over.
Lauren and Marcy left, Lauren promising to leave an amazing review for Lonesome Creek online.
“We should get this little guy back to his family.” Dungar nodded toward the luminook in my arms. The tiny creature had fallen asleep before we started walking, and carrying him for even such a short time had convinced me I should get a kitten once I’d found a home where I felt safe.
Did they have kittens in Lonesome Creek?
I shouldn’t be thinking about this place as home, of Dungar as…
I nipped the thought off before it had the chance to bloom. He was my boss. He was being friendly. I doubted he’d ever look at me the way his brothers looked at their mates.
We walked along the boardwalk and left it at the end, passing the Pottery Barn and a few pastures holding placid-appearing sorhoxes. I wanted to get close to one of them soon, but I was sure there’d be time. I wasn’t going anywhere for a bit.
The pens housing the luminook families sat beyond the barn housing the rodeo, and I could see them glowing and hear them humming from some distance away. Dungar turned on some lights, and we strode down a grassy center aisle with netted pens on each side.
The one on the end had a luminook-sized gap where the fence had separated, large enough for a curious baby to squeeze through. The luminook must’ve scooted out and gone on an adventure.
I explained my theory and Dungar nodded.
“I’m sure that’s it. Ruugar’s demonstration ended, and Marcy saw the baby scampering across the open area beyond the pens.” He gestured in that direction. “And she followed.”
“No bad lady.”
Dungar chuckled. “Just a little explorer who got more adventure than she bargained for.”
The baby in my arms began chirping, and I gently placed him in the pen. Within moments, his family surrounded him, their glowing spines creating a breathtaking light show.
“That never gets old,” Dungar said, watching them scamper around.
After he’d repaired the fence, we strolled over to a paddock where several sorhoxes grazed in the moonlight, their big forms moving peacefully through the deep grass.
I leaned against the wooden rail, and Dungar settled beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his frame.
The adrenaline that had carried us through the search was finally fading, leaving behind exhaustion and a heightened awareness of each other that made the space between us feel charged.
Sorhoxes looked like mythical creatures from a dream, each the size of a minivan.
Silver light caught on their medium green hides, turning them into living sculptures.
Their curved horns spiked out from behind their ears and ending in points near their snouts, gleaming like polished bone in the darkness.
Despite their fangs, spiked tails, and three-clawed hooves leaving deep prints in the earth, there was something profoundly peaceful about them. They moved slowly, their dark eyes reflecting the moonlight as they lifted their heads to survey their territory.
I’d thought I’d feel nervous around such big creatures, but I found their presence oddly comforting. They belonged to this place in a way I envied, rooted and secure in their world.
“You were incredible today,” I said, watching Dungar’s profile in the low light. “The way you handled Marcy, how gentle you were with her while still taking charge of the situation.”
He turned to look at me, his dark eyes reflecting the moonlight. “You made it easy. The way you stepped in with Lauren and coordinated the volunteers made an incredible difference. We worked well together.”
“We did.” The admission felt dangerous somehow, like I was acknowledging something I wasn’t supposed to want.
In my old life, I’d been taught to stay unattached, to keep moving, never to depend on anyone else.
But here, leaning against this fence with this impossibly gentle giant of a male beside me, those rules felt like remnants from someone else’s life.
“Riley.” My name sounded different in his deep voice, softer somehow. “When you were holding that luminook, the way you looked…”
“How did I look?” I gazed up at him.
“Like you belong here. Like this was where you were always meant to be.”
My breath caught. The careful distance I’d been maintaining crumbled as he shifted closer, his hand coming up to trace along my jaw with surprising tenderness.
“Is it crazy that I feel like I’ve been waiting for you my whole life?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Before I could think of all the reasons this could be complicated and impossible, he lifted me onto the fence rail, bringing us to eye level. His hands spanned my waist, steadying me, and suddenly we were so close I could see flecks of gold in his dark eyes.
His kiss was nothing like I’d expected. Soft, like he was afraid I might disappear if he moved too quickly. His lips were warm and gentle, and when I melted into him, a low rumble of satisfaction vibrated through his chest.
There was only the feeling of his mouth on mine, the way his fingers stroked my cheekbone, and the overwhelming sense of rightness that settled deep in my bones. When we broke apart, both breathing hard, I felt changed.
His forehead rested against mine, and for a moment, the world consisted of nothing but our shared breathing and the steady thrum of our hearts.
We walked through town, aiming for the hotel, not saying much, both lost in our own thoughts. The kiss had shifted something between us, creating a connection that felt both thrilling and terrifying. Every few steps, our arms brushed, sending sparks of awareness through me.
Part of me wanted to take his hand, to lean into whatever this was becoming.
But the part of me trained in survival kept whispering warnings about getting too attached, too comfortable, too trusting.
Riley Smith was a temporary identity. This life, this town, and this man could not become a permanent part of my life.
But as we climbed the stairs to the second floor of the hotel, I found myself wishing things were different. That I could be someone who stayed, someone who built a life in a place like this with a male like Dungar.
At my door, he turned to face me, his expression tender in the hallway’s dim lighting.
“Thank you,” he said. “For today, for everything. You were exactly what I needed.”
He traced his fingertips along my cheek in a gesture so sweet it made my heart ache. Then he was walking away, his footsteps echoing down the hall toward the stairs.
I stood frozen at my door, watching until he’d disappeared from view. My cheek still tingled where he’d touched me, and my lips felt swollen from our kiss. I finally fumbled with my key and stepped inside my room, leaning against the back of the door. Sighing.
Was I falling in love, or was I falling into the kind of trouble that could destroy us both?