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37

Mor

After receiving a vague text from Owen MacNamara—a local selkie who visits my library pretty regularly—I pull on my shoes and head down to the dock.

Ame and Jack are on their way down, too, but they pause to feed Lucky her evening meal.

I’m not surprised to find Bo with his pant legs rolled up, feet in the water.

He’s made a habit of settling on the edge of the floating platform and staring out at the lake as the water laps around his legs.

He jerks his head up at the sound of my approach, and then a beautiful grin overtakes his face.

“Ma’am,” he says when I’m within earshot.

I glare.

He chuckles.

The sound is so happy that I can’t fight off the small smile that claims my face.

“If you keep calling me ma’am, I’m going to start calling you old man,” I warn as I take a seat beside him.

The water is cool, claiming the fall chill more thoroughly than the air has at this point.

“Hmm. I guess, technically, I’m forty. You’re the baby compared to me.” He smirks as I pretend to scowl at his young face.

“Shut up before I shove you in,” I grumble, setting off another round of his laughter.

I regret losing the sound of it when the steadily growing roar of an engine drowns it out.

The humor on Bo’s face fades to a confused frown as we watch a pontoon boat approach our dock.

Owen slows the boat down a ways out, approaching at a slow clip that allows me to jump up and toss him a rope.

He shuts off the engine and uses the rope to draw the pontoon close enough that I can step aboard.

Ame and Jack arrive on the dock and also climb aboard the boat.

“What’s happening?” Bo is on his feet now, eyes flicking between me and the selkie.

“Secret meeting,” I tell him.

“It’s not secret if you tell people about it,” Owen chides, but with no true annoyance in his voice.

“Oh.” Bo still seems disconcerted, but he steps back from the boat, immediately accepting that any secret meeting occurring would not involve him.

And I think that’s a load of bullshit.

I pop open the tiny door leading onto the pontoon—a door Bo could easily step over—and wave the monster on board.

“Come on. Secret meeting time.”

“I’m invited?” Bo asks.

“He’s invited?” Owen says at the same time.

“You said this has to do with town safety,” I point out.

“Bo is …” I trail off as I try to explain a connection I made in my mind but have yet to put words to.

He dips his chin and shoves his hands into his pockets.

“It’s okay, Mor. Y’all go on.”

“No,” I snap.

“Bo is the least likely to hurt someone. Anyone.” I turn on Owen.

“This town was shitty to him seventeen years ago, and he’s still here. Just being an all-around decent guy. So he deserves to be there. And I trust him.” Holding Bo’s wide eyes, I say the words I know to be true deep in my soul.

“I trust Bo with my books. I trust him with my home. I trust him with my family.” Then I shake my head, letting out a small laugh.

“No, he is family.”

“Hear, hear!” Ame chirps.

“Agreed,” Jack grunts.

Every inch of Bo’s skin that I can see blushes a deep shade of red.

The poor guy is about to overheat.

Owen clears his throat.

“Delta Novac. You have a problem with her?” he asks, and I realize I might have made an oversight.

The dragon who trapped Bo is dead and gone, but his daughter is still here.

And she’s mated to Owen’s brother.

Basically part of one of the founding families.

“We talked,” Bo rasps.

“I got mad, I admit. But I apologized. Gave Gigabyte a treat.”

Owen grins, quick to forgive and forget.

“Well, all right then! Hop on board, buddy. We’ve got places to be.”

Bo doesn’t hesitate.

He strides onto the boat, then claims my hand, slides his fingers between mine as much as his webbing allows, and draws me down to sit beside him.

He holds on to me as Owen tosses the rope back onto the dock and points the pontoon toward open water, cruising at a speed slightly too fast for us to be able to chat over the rush of wind.

But I can see what the exchange we just had did to Bo.

Daffodil hope, mixed with lilac relief and a dash of sunshine joy.

I never thought being a Shelly was too big of a deal, but it seems like I’ve rewired Bo’s entire emotional grid.

Every so often, he’ll bring my hand up to his mouth and press a kiss against the back before resettling our clasped palms in his lap.

When I shiver at the cold wind, mixed with spray from lake water, Bo drapes his free arm around my shoulders and draws me into the shielding warmth of his body.

And I think I want this boat ride to go on for forever.

But of course, it can’t.

Owen turns us down an inlet and then navigates into a long, narrow cove.

The banks spike up high on either side of us, which means the water is probably still pretty deep.

We go around one more turn, and up ahead, I spot a small floating dock.

A few Jet Skis are tied to it, leaving just enough room for Owen’s pontoon.

The selkie skillfully maneuvers his vessel into an open spot, and using his own rope this time, he disembarks and ties the boat to the dock.

“We’re meeting up at the house,” Owen explains, pointing to a set of switchback steps that cut up the steep bank.

“This … this is Monster territory,” Bo murmurs, staring around, probably trying to orient himself after the boat ride.

I always find it hard to connect where roads lead versus where sailing on the lake ends us.

“Right you are,” Owen agrees a moment before we hear the repetitive noise of large, flapping wings.

A blue being descends, landing in a crouch on the dock so smoothly that the wooden surface barely rocks.

When the new arrival stands, I stare at a blue creature with a feminine figure, bald head, and scales instead of skin.

Their eyes—a murky purple mass—land on the monster at my side. “Bo Folan?”