“I need to run to the supermarket. We’re almost out of fresh food. And you need to sign your lease.”
“Minor details.” She winked. “I’ve seen the stuff you’ve got in the freezer. You’re a secret meal prepper.”
“Don’t go spoiling my image of being a rough-tough mountain Yeti,” I teased, kissing the top of her head. I’d never grow tired of breathing in the scent of her. My soap, my shampoo, but underneath it all, distinctly Maya. My cabin would smell like her for weeks after she left. The thought made something in my chest ache. “How about a proposition? We go into town, handle the necessary business, grab groceries, and come right back here?”
“Can I stay another night?”
“Maya, you can stay as many nights as you want. I hope you know that.”
She looked up at me, something vulnerable in her expression. “I like it here. With you. The real world feels complicated.”
I understood that completely. Up here, it was just us. No expectations, no judgments, no questions about what a human and a Yeti were doing together. Just Maya and Geoff, the same people we’d been for three years, finally in the same physical space.
“It’ll be okay,” I said, trying to convince us both. “Calamity Creek is a wonderful town. Monster-human integration is literally what they’re known for.”
“I know. You’re right.” She drained her coffee and slid out of bed. “Okay. Let’s do this. Quick trip into town, then back to our bubble.”
Our bubble. I liked the sound of that.
An hour later, we were in my truck, heading down the mountain. The roads were clear but bordered by massive wallsof plowed snow. Maya was quieter than usual, staring out the window with a small furrow between her brows.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, nervous, I guess. About meeting people. Being seen with you publicly.” She must have seen my expression because she quickly added, “Not because I’m ashamed! God, no. I didn’t mean it that way. I said it because I know how people can be. And I don’t want anyone giving you a hard time because of me. I’m the newcomer here; you’re the longtime resident.”
My hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Maya, if anyone gives either of us a hard time, they’ll answer to me.”
“Very protective.”
“You’re mine. Of course I’m protective.”
She smiled at that, reaching over to take my hand. “I’m yours, huh?”
“If you want to be.”
“I definitely want to be.”
We drove in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Maya pointed ahead. “Wait, is that my car?”
I slowed down. Her car was still there, half-buried in the snowbank where it had crashed four days ago. A tow truck was parked behind it, and I recognized Marco from the town’s garage examining the damage.
“Want to check on it?” I asked.
“Might as well. At least grab my stuff before they haul it away.”
I pulled over, and we climbed out. Marco looked up as we approached, his eyes widening as he registered Maya.
“Geoff! This is the car you called about?” He was a werewolf, tall and rangy with the permanent restless energy of his kind. “Man, whoever drove it is lucky to be alive. This could have been bad.”
“It’s my car,” Maya said, her voice low.
“Don’t I know it.” I moved to stand beside Maya, close enough that our shoulders touched. “Maya, this is Marco. He owns the garage in town. Marco, Maya. She’s new to Calamity Creek.”
“Welcome to town,” Marco said with a friendly grin. “Sorry it’s under these circumstances. Your car’s totaled, I’m afraid. Frame’s bent, engine damage, the works. Insurance should cover most of it, but she’s not drivable.”
Maya winced. “I figured. Can I grab my things from the trunk?”
“Sure thing. I already popped it open to check for hazardous materials. The last thing this area needs is a fire.”
