“Maybe they’ll see us at one of the weddings.”
“One can only hope,” Maeve says as we cross the road and enter the chaos of the monthly Pack in the Park, a new event series Phina put together to create a stronger sense of community, with all the recent changes.
A live band is on the stage, playing just loud enough that the music carries through the park but not to the point of drowning out conversation. One side of the courtyard has a line of booths with outreach programs and organizations that help with various things—one booth is for the rebuilding effort, one for placing orphaned shifters into new homes, and another hands out water to anyone who walks by.
The other side of the courtyard has food trucks and stands selling wares and goods. We head for that side, and after Maeve gets a cherry lemonade and some sort of meat on a stick, we peruse the stands.
“I love homemade jewelry,” she says, stopping and handing her drink and meat stick to me. “Let me look.”
I stand back, holding her things and watching her as she laughs and jokes with the person running the booth. A moment later, she comes back to me with a pair of earrings—little disco balls with cowboy hats on top.
“I have the perfect outfit for this,” she says, tucking her clutch under her arm as she immediately puts the earrings on. “It’s going up in a post next week—I can name-drop this small seller. She’s not going to know what hit her.”
“Is that a good thing?” I laugh, eyebrows raising.
“Felix,” Maeve says, pausing with the earring halfway to her ear, her eyes finding mine, “you know that I have, like, 400,000 followers, right?”
The number hits me in the chest. Of course, she does—Maeve deserves to have that many people following her. And it doesn’t surprise me that there are more than three hundred thousand other people who see her spark, her value. Like I do.
We continue making our way through the party, trying our hand at some of the games. The sun sets, and someone hands out sparklers. The shifter pups run around with them, laughing and trying to spell their names with the light.
I’m just about to ask Maeve if she wants to leave when someone calls my name from across the grass.
“Felix!”
It’s Kalen, walking fast, his arm raised. It’s weird seeing him outside of the firehouse or the pack hall. Lately, it feels like he’s been working nonstop.
“Hey, man,” I say, reaching out and bumping my fist against his. Without thinking, I snake my arm around Maeve, drawing her close to my side. “You remember Maeve, from school?”
Kalen, a Sorel with perfect manners, nods and holds out his hand, shaking Maeve’s and smiling at her. “I sure do. We snagged a table over there before the next performance starts. Why don’t you guys come sit with us?”
“Oh,” Maeve says, and I think I can feel the heat of her blush through our layers of clothing. I like that she’s blushing. I like knowing my touch affects her like this. “That’s—”
“Sure,” I say before she can finish. “We’ll head over.”
When Kalen leaves, Maeve turns to me, eyebrow raised. “What are you doing?”
“You want people to see us?” I ask, reaching out and taking the cherry from the top of her lemonade. “And Xeran hasto affirm our mating bond, so isn’t this a good chance for him to see usorganically?”
Maeve fiddles with the sleeve of her shirt, and I tighten my arm around her. “Don’t worry,” I say. “We’ve got this down—I’m kind of known for being touchy with girls. Just try acting like you like me.”
She lets out a breath and mutters something under her breath that sounds like, “That’s exactly the problem.”
Chapter 13 - Maeve
When I wake up the next morning after the pack party, I’m already thinking about Felix. He kept his hands on me theentirenight. If his hand wasn’t on my thigh, it was on the small of my back.
As the night went on and we sat with the others—Lachlan and Valerie, Phina and Xeran, Kalen and Soren—Felix was constantly moving me. Pulling me into his lap, standing behind my chair with his arms around me. Tugging me closer to him. Slinging his arm around my shoulders or waist.
And I still feel the lingering tingle of his touch, the reminder that it’s only been eight hours since the last time he had his hands on me.
Considering the fact that my rental is just across the street from the park, we walked back here last night. Felix was sure to leave his bike outside where everyone could see it, right next to my Jeep.
As quietly as I can, I sit up and peek over the side of the bed.
He’s sprawled out on his stomach on the couch, snoring gently, his head turned to the side. His hair is shorter than I’ve ever seen it, and I resist the urge to reach out and run my hand over it.
I’m just about to say his name when I hear my phone buzzing on the counter.
