Page 54 of Flare
The meeting continued for another twenty minutes, discussing contingency plans and assigning specific roles to family members. Ward listened with half an ear, his attention repeatedly drawn to his phone as he checked for messages from Emily or Maggie.
Nothing. No news is good news, right?
When Grandma Elle finally ended the call with a reminder to stay alert, Ward closed his laptop and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands over his face.
His bear was restless beneath his skin, urging him to shift, to run to the festival, to stand guard over Emily.
Yeah, that not going to happen, he told his bear. Especially with the town full of strangers liable to panic at the sight of a full-grown male grizzly charging down Main Street.
He checked his phone again.Should I text Emily to see how she’s doing? Or would that seem overprotective?
The last thing he wanted was to make Emily feel smothered. But his bear didn’t understand such human nuances. It only knew that she was in danger, and it wasn’t there to protect her.
Ward pushed away from the desk and paced his workshop.
Emily wasn’t his mate. She’d just escaped one overly possessive shifter; she certainly didn’t need another one breathing down her neck.
But the memory of her falling asleep against him on the sofa last night, trusting him enough to let her guard down completely, made hope unfurl in his chest.
She’d already worked her way under his skin, and he’d do whatever it took to keep her safe.
Even if that meant keeping his distance while his bear howled in protest.
With a resolute sigh, Ward grabbed his keys. He had work to do, starting with driving over to Wallace’s for those security cameras.
Chapter 15
Perfect Imperfection
Saturday, May 16
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.
According to Grandma Elle’s plan, Ward would be on guard at the Cinnamon + Sugar booth from 6:00 p.m. until the festival closed for the night at 9:00 p.m., after which he’d walk Emily back to his place.
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?
