Page 22 of Flare (Bearpaw Ridge Firefighters #17)

Perfect Imperfection

After installing his newly purchased security cameras around his house and yard, Ward retreated to his workshop. He needed to keep his hands busy until it was time for his turn to guard Emily at the festival.

The custom order for Eddy Ornelas was almost done. The live-edge table was a masterpiece in the making, with its natural contours highlighting the wood ’ s character rather than hiding it. Ward loved working with this black walnut slab—the rich, dark grain seemed to tell a story all its own.

Ward ran his palm over the surface of the tabletop, feeling for imperfections in the smooth finish. The rhythmic motion of sanding had always calmed him, allowing his thoughts to settle like sawdust on the workshop floor.

Today, though, his mind refused to quiet.

Images of Emily ’ s face, the scent of her hair, and the lingering warmth of her body against his kept intruding. Ward pressed harder with the sander, as if he could smooth away his agitation as easily as he could the rough spots in the wood.

Then he remembered something. He went to a shelf, grabbed it, and stuffed it into his pocket for later.

He returned to the table and picked up the sander again. After a few minutes, he fell into the work as he worked the surface with a succession of progressively finer grit sandpaper, until it felt like satin when he stroked it.

It was finally ready for the last step: the epoxy resin pour.

Ward was so absorbed in his work that he didn ’ t hear the approaching footsteps until a soft knock sounded at the workshop ’ s open door.

He looked up, startled, to find Maggie standing there with Emily just behind her. His heart did a ridiculous little skip at the sight of Emily ’ s tentative smile.

“ Lunch delivery,” Maggie announced.

She gave Ward a not-so-subtle wink as Emily stepped forward, carrying a large paper bag that filled the workshop with the mouthwatering aroma of barbecue pork. In her other hand, she balanced a cardboard tray with two tall plastic cups of what looked like lemonade.

Ward ’ s bear, which had been restlessly pacing the confines of his mind all morning, suddenly went stock-still, then jubilant. A food offering brought directly to its territory?

She ’ s courting us! His bear informed him ecstatically.

But of course, Emily wouldn ’ t understand the significance of her action, even if Maggie did.

“ It ’ s the least I could do after you spent all night protecting me from Andrew and then cooked me breakfast,” Emily said, oblivious to Ward ’ s inner turmoil.

She set the bag on a clean corner of his worktable. “ I got pulled pork on sourdough from the Wildcat Springs booth. And your favorite—macadamia chocolate chunk cookies.”

Ward grinned, pleased she ’ d remembered his cookie preferences.

“ Well, I should get back to the booth,” Maggie said. “ We ’ ve been crazy-busy all day, and I don ’ t want Violet to think I abandoned her.” She squeezed Emily ’ s shoulder warmly before heading for the door, calling over her shoulder, “ Don ’ t keep her here too long, Eddie. We need her help.”

Ward felt annoyed by his cousin ’ s transparent matchmaking. The moment Maggie was out of sight, he turned back to Emily. “ Maggie put you up to this, didn ’ t she?”

Emily ’ s eyes twinkled, and for a moment, she looked lighthearted—so different from the frightened woman from yesterday afternoon.

“ She might have suggested coming to see you over my lunch break,” she admitted. “ But I wanted to come. And I thought you might be hungry.”

His bear preened at her words. See? She ’ s thinking about our needs .

Shut up , Ward told it irritably. But it was getting harder by the minute to stick to his resolution about giving Emily space.

“ Well, it smells amazing,” he said, wiping his hands on a clean rag tucked into his tool belt. “ Thank you.”

Emily ’ s expression turned serious, her smile fading. “ Also… I wanted to say I ’ m sorry.”

Ward frowned, confused. “ For what?”

“ For bringing Andrew here.” She bit her lip, her gaze dropping to the floor. “ For dragging you and your family into this mess. For making you feel you had to stand guard all night.”

Ward stepped closer, fighting the urge to pull her into his arms. “ Emily, look at me.” He waited until her eyes met his. “ You didn ’ t make me do anything. I chose to. And I ’ d do it again in a heartbeat.”

“ But—”

“ No buts.” His voice was soft but firm. “ Andrew Brunborn is the problem here, not you. Never you. You—you ’ re perfect.”

Fuck. He hadn ’ t meant to say that last part. But the relief in her eyes made his chest ache.

He pulled over a stool and dusted it off before patting the one across from it. “ Stay for lunch? Unless you need to get back to the festival right away.”

Emily nodded, looking around his workshop with interest as she took a seat. “ I ’ m on a break until 1:00 p.m.” She pulled a foil-wrapped sandwich out of the bag and passed it to him, then handed him a lilac-infused lemonade.

Their fingers brushed during the exchange, and Ward felt that now-familiar jolt of awareness. He unwrapped his own sandwich, grateful for the distraction of food.

Emily took a bite of her sandwich and closed her eyes briefly in appreciation. When she opened them again, she asked, “ Can I tell you something?”

“ Of course. You can tell me anything.” Ward ’ s bear stilled, sensing something important was coming.

Emily took a deep breath. “ So, last month, Andrew invited me to come with him to a big real estate awards dinner.”

The memory seemed to pain her, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sandwich foil.

“ So there I was, sitting at my vanity, putting on makeup,” she said, her eyes fixed on some distant point beyond Ward ’ s shoulder.

“ I ’ d spent almost two hours getting ready because I knew Andrew would expect everything—my hair, my makeup, everything—to be flawless.

I remember panicking because I had a huge pimple on my chin.

” She touched the spot, now clear, absently.

“ I knew Andrew would notice it and say something mean about it. And he did.”

Ward remained quiet, giving her space to continue, though his bear growled at the thought of Andrew making his mate feel so insecure.

“ I see now how silly I was,” she continued.

“ But Andrew and his awful grandmother both made me feel that if I wasn ’ t perfect all the time, I ’ d ruin everything .

Like I ’ d embarrass his entire family just by existing.

” She shook her head. “ The whole time Andrew and I were engaged, I was always worried about saying the wrong thing or wearing the wrong outfit or using the wrong fork.”

Ward put down his sandwich and turned to face her fully. “ That ’ s not silly, Emily. That ’ s heartbreaking.”

She looked up at him, surprise flashing in her eyes at his vehemence.

“ No one should make you feel that way,” he continued, his voice low and serious. “ Especially not your fucking mate.”

His bear pushed against his consciousness, wanting to comfort her, wanting to find Andrew and tear him apart for hurting her. Ward breathed deeply, fighting for control when he wanted to punch Andrew ’ s face in.

Emily toyed with her straw, swirling it through the ice cubes in her lemonade.

“ The worst part is, I didn ’ t even realize how bad it had gotten.

I kept telling myself that if I tried hard enough, he ’ d go back to being the sweet guy I fell in love with.

” She sighed. “ My dad died when I was in kindergarten, and my mom never remarried. I haven ’ t exactly had any role models for what a healthy relationship should look like. ”

Ward thought about his parents. Even after thirty years of marriage, they still looked at each other like love-struck teenagers.

“ My parents have always treated each other like best friends who fell in love,” he said, smiling.

“ They don ’ t always agree—believe me, they can get into some pretty heated arguments—but they always respect each other, even when they ’ re mad.

They listen to each other.” He reached out, almost touching Emily ’ s hand before thinking better of it and drawing back.

“ That ’ s what a good relationship between mates should be. A partnership.”

Emily nodded, watching the aborted movement of his hand with an expression he couldn ’ t read.

“ You don ’ t have to be perfect, Emily,” Ward said softly. “ Just keep being kind and open-minded.” He met her gaze, his bear pushing him to say more. “ I hope… I hope I never make you feel you have to be perfect.”

“ You don ’ t.” The corner of her mouth lifted in a half-smile. “ With you, I don ’ t feel like I have to be anyone but myself.” She took another bite of her sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. “ It ’ s nice. Scary, but nice.”

“ Why scary?” Ward asked, confused.

“ Because it matters more,” she said simply. “ Being myself with someone who actually sees me… that matters in a way that being perfect for Andrew never did.”

The words hung between them, heavy with meaning.

Ward ’ s bear surged to the surface, urging him to claim her lips, to show her exactly how much she mattered to him. He leaned in slightly, drawn by an invisible force, by the softness in her eyes, by the faint scent of lilac lemonade on her breath.

Then he remembered how vulnerable she was right now, not just physically but emotionally. Don ’ t take advantage of her when she ’ s vulnerable.

Ward forced himself to lean back, clearing his throat. “ Emily, I—”

She blinked, and he saw the flicker of hurt cross her face before she covered it with a smile that didn ’ t quite reach her eyes. She gathered up her napkin and sandwich wrapper. “ I should probably get back to the festival. Maggie warned me about the afternoon rush.”

Ward cursed himself silently. He ’ d been trying to do the right thing, to not pressure her when she was trusting him to protect her, not seduce her. But he ’ d ended up hurting her instead.

“ I ’ ll walk you back,” he said, standing quickly. “ Just let me wash up.”

He crossed to the utility sink in the corner and rinsed his hands, watching from the corner of his eye as Emily collected their trash and placed it in the bin. Her shoulders were tense; her movements were brisk and efficient.

As they stepped outside into the autumn sunshine, Ward gently touched her elbow. “ Emily?”

She looked up at him, squinting slightly against the light.

“ I ’ m sorry if I—”

“ Don ’ t apologize,” she interrupted. “ You did nothing wrong.” She hesitated, then added softly, “ You make me feel safe, Ward. After everything with Andrew, that ’ s… that ’ s more important than you know.”

His bear rumbled with pleasure at her words, and Ward allowed himself a small smile. He might have mis-stepped, but he hadn ’ t ruined everything. And right now, making Emily feel safe mattered most.

She ’ d told him she needed time. He ’ d give her all the time she needed.

“ Come on,” he said, heading to the workshop door. “ Let ’ s get you back to Maggie before she sends out a search party.”

Emily smiled, a genuine smile this time, and fell into step beside him. Their hands occasionally brushed as they walked, and each time, Ward felt that jolt of connection.

∞∞∞

Two hours later

“ Hey, Em, we ’ ve got a line forming for coffee,” Violet called as Emily emerged from Cinnamon + Sugar with a fresh tray of lavender shortbread cookies. “ Mind manning the register while I brew?”

Violet Tringstad was barely twenty, with a nose ring and hair she ’ d dyed a deep purple for the festival. She ’ d welcomed Emily to the Cinnamon + Sugar team, treating her like she ’ d always been there.

“ Of course.” Emily refilled the booth ’ s bakery case, then moved to the register.

Despite her worries, everything was going great so far. As Maggie had predicted, their booth was the most popular one at the festival, and they ’ d already sold out of the bakery ’ s signature cinnamon rolls.

The morning passed in a pleasant blur of transactions, cheerful customers, and the constant hum of festival activity.

As she worked, Emily listened to the live music coming from the nearby stage.

Children with butterflies, lilacs, and lavender blossoms painted on their faces ran down the street, which had been closed to traffic over the weekend.

Couples strolled hand in hand among the vendor booths.

After a while, she even forgot to scan the crowd for Andrew ’ s face.

It was during a brief lull in customers, as Emily was restocking the bakery cases with more macarons and cookies, that she heard Violet ’ s sharp intake of breath. “ Shit.”

She and Maggie both turned to look at Violet.

“ Guys,” the young wolf shifter whispered urgently. “ Three o ’ clock. Big blond guy in the blue shirt. Is that him?”

Emily ’ s head snapped up. She followed Violet ’ s gaze and felt her heart stop.

Andrew stood about thirty yards away, partially obscured by a display of lavender plants, but unmistakable with his golden hair and expensive clothing. He was scanning the crowd, not yet looking in their direction.

“ It ’ s him,” she and Maggie said at the same time.