“If you hear anything else about the thefts, let me know,” Bear said. “Something about it doesn’t sit right with me.”
“Will do.” Callum nodded, already reaching for his folder again. “But try not to dwell on it too much. It’s probably nothing.”
Bear made a noncommittal sound. His gut told him otherwise.
As he finished his lunch, his gaze drifted back to Joy. She caught him looking, and her lips curved into a small, secret smile that was just for him.
Yeah, he’d keep the break-ins to himself for now. The last thing she needed was to start worrying again, especially over a few missing tires and tools.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to look into it himself.
He couldn’t fight Joy’s battle for her. But protecting her—protecting Oak Creek—from new threats? That was something he could damn well do.
He drained the last of his drink, already planning to check the security around the garage when he got back. Maybe add a camera or two. Nothing obvious, nothing that would make Joy ask questions.
Just enough to catch whoever thought they could take what wasn’t theirs.
Because one thing was certain—if someone was messing around his garage, his town, or his people, Bear wasn’t going to sit by and do nothing.
Chapter24
Joy hummed as she rearranged the small display shelf near the service window of Velvet Mornings where it was parked back in the storage garage. The subtle changes she’d made since the festival had transformed the space from merely functional to perfectly efficient. She stepped back, admiring the way the morning light caught the crystal vases she’d added for fresh flowers.
“Much better,” she murmured, adjusting one final detail.
Her phone buzzed on the counter. Another notification from theTeton Tastesblog post. The comments section had exploded since Madeline had published her glowing review yesterday.
Joy grinned as she scrolled through the latest reactions, still unable to believe the response. Three different people had stopped her in the grocery store yesterday, asking when she’d be opening Velvet Mornings in Oak Creek. Mrs. Fuller had practically cornered her outside the post office, insisting she needed to try thosefancy French toast stickseveryone was talking about. And also still asking about her casserole dish.
A notification popped up—another local business had shared the review.
“Guess the cat’s out of the bag now,” she said to herself, setting her phone down.
She grabbed her paintbrush and the small container of soft pink paint she’d mixed to touch up a scuff mark near the serving window. The color matched perfectly, blending the repair seamlessly with the rest of the truck’s exterior.
She took a step back to admire her work when it hit her—that familiar, heavy weight settling between her shoulder blades.
The distinct feeling of being watched.
Her muscles tensed instinctively. The brush froze mid-stroke.
“Bear?” she called, not turning around yet. It had to be him. “I thought you were working until five.”
Nothing. Just the distant sound of birds and the occasional car passing on the main road.
“Bear, I know you’re there,” she tried again, forcing lightness into her voice. She refused to let herself get panicked. “Did you finish early?”
The silence stretched, heavy and expectant.
She slowly lowered the paintbrush and turned, stepping down the stepladder. She scanned the area outside the garage’s open door, expecting to see Bear’s broad shoulders and easy smile, maybe leaning against his truck with that look he got whenever he caught her working—half pride, half something much more heated.
But the driveway was empty. So was the street beyond.
A chill that had nothing to do with the November air crept up her spine.
“Hello?” she called, hating how her voice wavered slightly. “Anyone there?”
The wind rustled through the trees along the fence line, sending dried leaves skittering across the pavement. Nothing else moved.
