Page 23 of Paw Inspiring (Paranormal Dating Agency #86)

TWENTY-TWO

M eara turned to find him closer than expected, his eyes intense. “I try to. Sometimes it’s harder than others.”

“Like when someone vandalized your cabin?”

“Like when someone makes me question everything I thought I knew about bears.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.

His hand found hers, fingers intertwining naturally. “Good questions or bad ones?”

“Definitely good.” She squeezed his hand. “Though I’m still waiting for that properly won pumpkin prize.”

A grin tugged at his lips. “Maybe I’m saving the best for last.”

“Or maybe,” she teased, “you’re worried about losing to a mere human.”

His eyes glinted gold. “Careful, artist. Bears can be very competitive when provoked.”

“Prove it.”

The challenge sparked something primal in his gaze. Before she could blink, he’d guided her to a strength-testing game—the kind with a hammer and bell, but the bell was designed like a jack-o-lantern that lit up when the weight hit it. “Ladies first.”

Meara hefted the hammer, making a show of testing its weight. “No bear strength allowed. That would be cheating.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” But his smirk said otherwise.

She swung, managing to get the weight halfway up. Not bad for someone who usually lifted paintbrushes instead of hammers. “Your turn, big guy. Impress me.”

Artek’s muscles flexed as he gripped the hammer. The bell rang with satisfying force, and he turned to her with a triumphant grin. “Impressed?”

“Moderately.” She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Though I’m more impressed by how you’re restraining your shift. Your eyes have been flashing gold all afternoon.”

“Only around you.” His admission sent heat coursing through her veins. “You have that effect.”

“Sexual tension alert!” Frenchy’s voice made them both jump. He appeared with an armload of candied apples and a knowing smirk. “Should I create a distraction so you two can sneak off to the woods? Though fair warning: bear shifters probably wouldn’t be very scandalized. They might even applaud.”

“Frenchy!” But Meara couldn’t help laughing, especially when Artek’s ears turned slightly pink.

As sunset painted the sky in brilliant oranges and pinks, they took a quiet walk along the jubilee’s edge. The day’s warmth and laughter had pushed away thoughts of vandalism and threats, replacing fear with a sense of belonging Meara hadn’t felt since Betsy passed.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For bringing me here. For showing me this side of your world.”

Artek turned to face her, his expression intense in the fading light. “Thank you for giving it a chance. For giving me a chance.”

From across the clearing, she spotted Vida and Carys watching them with knowing smiles. Frenchy remained surrounded by admirers, his theatrical storytelling drawing laughs from the crowd.

“Ready to head back?” Artek asked as the first stars appeared.

Meara nodded, suddenly tired but content. As they walked to his SUV, she realized something profound: the cabin wasn’t just about preserving art or fulfilling Betsy’s dream anymore. It was about building connections—with this community, with Artek, with a future that seemed brighter despite all attempts to darken it.

“You know,” she said as they drove home, the dashboard lights casting shadows across his strong profile, “I think I’m starting to understand why Betsy loved that cabin so much. It’s not just about the place itself.”

“No?”

“It’s about the people it brings together.” She glanced at him, gathering her courage. “The possibilities it opens up.”

His smile, rare and genuine, told her he understood completely.

The vandalized cabin waited ahead, but somehow its shadows held less power now. She had allies in this fight—friends, protectors, and maybe something more. As Artek walked her to her door, his hand warm against her back, she knew whatever challenges the Lopez family threw at her, she wouldn’t face them alone.

“Goodnight,” she murmured, turning to face him on the porch.

Instead of responding, he cupped her face in his hands, thumbs brushing her cheekbones. The kiss was gentle at first, a question more than a demand. But when she pressed closer, fingers curling into his shirt, it deepened into something that made her toes curl.

“Goodnight,” he whispered against her lips, his voice rough with restraint.

As she watched his SUV disappear into the darkness, Meara touched her tingling lips. Through the window, she spotted Frenchy practically vibrating with curiosity, clutching what looked suspiciously like a bowl of popcorn.

Some battles were worth fighting. Others, like avoiding Frenchy’s inevitable interrogation, were probably lost causes. But with the memory of Artek’s kiss still warming her blood, Meara couldn’t bring herself to mind either way.

The future stretched ahead, full of challenges and possibilities.