Page 48 of Love At First Roar
Cora looked out over the crowd. Edgar Tansley was juggling glowing fruit while children shrieked with laughter. Miriam was serving her famous buttered rolls from a basket lined in plaid. Even Emmett Hollowell was there, nodding politely from the edge of the circle, arms folded like always but face softer than usual.
And there, across the table-lined clearing, stood Callum.
He wasn’t dressed up. That man barely changed out of his fitted work shirts and worn boots, but tonight the sleeves had been rolled, and the buttons undone just enough to see the curve of his collarbone of his flannel. His hair was tousled from either wind or stubbornness. His eyes found her through the crowd, and that one look had her heat spiking under her skin.
“I’m not sure if I’m dreaming,” she whispered.
Maeve laughed. “Then don’t wake up. Just go walk over and let him look at you like that from a little closer.”
Cora hesitated. “You think he…?”
“Cora.” Maeve looked almost offended. “The man looks at you like you’re the first spell that’s ever worked.”
That pushed her over the edge.
Cora made her way across the glade, skirt brushing against wild thyme and clover, cider warm in her hand and something even warmer fluttering in her chest. When she stopped in front of him, Callum didn’t say anything at first. He just stared, blue eyes tracing her face like he was memorizing it.
“You clean up alright,” he said finally, voice rough but fond.
“You’re not so bad yourself, ranger.”
He gestured to her cider. “That spiked?”
“Nope. I’m high on roasted vegetables and compliments.”
He smiled. Barely, but it reached his eyes.
Twyla’s voice rang out from the center of the clearing, cutting through the soft hum of conversation.
“Alright, my loves. We’re gathered tonight because the Veil’s restless, and times are strange—but that’s not new, is it? What’s new is strength, right here.” She pointed toward Callum and Cora, eyes twinkling. “Our town holds strong because we’ve got bonds forming where the magic needs it most. The forest listens. So should we.”
A cheer broke out, loud and playful. Someone hollered, “Bless the Veil and the ranger’s future wife!”
Cora nearly choked on her cider. Callum’s ears turned pink.
Twyla didn’t miss a beat. “Now, now. Don’t go picking wedding dates just yet. But I do believe in honoring what the Veil wants. And tonight, it seems to want joy. Connection. Maybe a little matchmaking. So eat, drink, and let yourselves be seen.”
Cora turned to Callum, wide-eyed.
“I didn’t plan this,” he muttered.
“I figured,” she said with a soft laugh. “Your matchmaking skills don’t usually involve roasted squash and dancing.”
“I do like squash,” he said, eyes serious.
She bit her lip, holding back a grin. “Good to know.”
As the music started with a fiddle and soft drums they sat at one of the edge tables. The food was simple but perfect: spiced root veggies, braised greens, warm apple tarts. Cora watched him across the table, his broad hands curled around a mug, his shoulders finally relaxing.
He caught her watching.
“What?”
She shrugged. “I think I’m starting to believe this place wants me.”
“It does.” He didn’t hesitate. “I do.”
Her breath caught with skeptic hope. “Even with…”
