Page 11 of Love At First Roar
She finished the last crumb. “Thank you. For listening.”
“Anytime. Now off you go. The inn lights your path, and I suspect a lion lurks in the trees dying to walk you home.”
Cora slid from the booth. “He’d deny it.”
Twyla’s eyes twinkled. “Let him. Cats prowl, hearts pounce.”
Outside, night had bloomed full. The sky shimmered with more stars than she remembered existing. Crickets sang harmony with distant fiddle notes from the tavern. Midway across the square she sensed movement, subtle as breath.
Callum leaned against a lamppost, arms folded, silhouette carved in silver. When her steps drew close he straightened.
“I’m supposed to keep an eye on you.” He cleared his throat before adding, “Thought you might get lost,” he grumbled.
“The square is seven shops long,” she teased.
“Could have tripped.” He paused, cleared his throat. “Roads twist here at night. Better to have company.”
She lifted a brow. “Safeguarding the Veil, are we?”
He answered with a soft grunt yet offered his arm. She slid her hand into the crook, and his warmth seeped through cotton and skin.
The walk back to Hearth and Hollow stretched only two blocks, yet each stride felt like settling roots. Fireflies bobbed above hedges. Somewhere a fox called to its mate. Callum kept pace slow so her knee did not twinge. She liked the quiet between them, not empty but filled with shared breaths.
On the inn steps he stopped. Lantern light cast gold across the stubborn slant of his mouth.
“Town suits you,” he murmured.
“And you seem less inclined to growl tonight.”
His lips curved, almost a smile. “Maybe the forest is rubbing off on me.”
Cora held his gaze, felt her heartbeat sync with his quieter, steadier one. In that hush Twyla’s words returned. Some magic finds you when you are meant to be found.
“Good night, Callum.”
“Night, Cora.”
She slipped inside. He lingered on the porch until the door latched, as if keeping watch. Upstairs in her cozy room, she pressed a hand to her heart. It beat strong, not frantic. Outside, the town dreamed on. And for the first time in ages, she did not dread morning.
6
CALLUM
Callum hated trailing people. Hated feeling like some oversized shadow lurking five paces behind a woman who stopped to admire every flower and talk to every damn person breathing within fifty feet.
And yet, there he was.
Cora moved through Hollow Oak like she belonged, as if the town had always waited for her and finally decided to show her off. She wore a pale blue blouse today, tucked into high-waist pants that looked slightly too big for her. Her braid bounced against her back, and every time she laughed, a few wild strands fluttered around her face like they refused to be tamed.
She waved to the butcher, complimented a teenager’s fox-shaped familiar, even cooed over Rufus Tansley’s ridiculous pet ferret that sat in a tiny sling across his chest. Callum trailed behind, arms crossed, jaw tight, boots chewing gravel as he glared holes into the ground.
He was not annoyed. He was vigilant.
Sure, she smelled like wild lilacs and early summer rain. Sure, the Veil pulsed like a second heartbeat every time she passed through a crossroad. But none of that meant she washarmless. Just because Hollow Oak hadn’t thrown her back didn’t mean it wasn’t holding its breath.
He watched as she paused outside the Hollow Mercantile. Edgar Tansley stood at the stoop, ink-stained fingers tucked into his apron, and held out a bundle of sage wrapped in purple twine.
“For you, miss. Grown by accident, like all good things,” Edgar said with a half-smile.
