Page 26 of Bear and Book

Leo, polite as ever, nodded. “Yeah. We’re doing a storm relief special today,” Leo said.

The man’s smile widened. “Bet you’re the main attraction.”

My fox bristled instantly. Something low and primal curled in my chest. A sound I didn’t even realize had slipped past my throat until the man’s gaze flicked toward me.

A growl. Soft but unmistakable.

Leo glanced at me, surprise flickering across his face before he turned back to the tourist. “Uh thanks, but I should probably get back to helping Elias here.”

The man’s eyes darted between us, curiosity sharpening, but he just gave a slow nod and strolled off toward the coffee stall.

Leo didn’t say anything right away. He was pretending nothing had happened, but his mouth twitched like he was holding back a smile.

“What?” I asked, sharper than I meant to.

“Nothing,” Leo said, too quickly. “Its just you make interesting noises, Elias.”

I felt heat climb the back of my neck. “It wasn’t intentional.”

“Mmh.” He busied himself straightening the books again, but I caught the edge of a grin.

The rest of the afternoon, the square pulsed with movement and noise. A steady stream of customers came and went.

Leo was always right there. He reached over me to grab something from the far side of the table. Leo leaned close to murmur a joke when someone walked by in an outrageous hat.

He kept brushing against me in the small, unintentional ways that shouldn’t have mattered but somehow burned like a match against skin.

At one point, a sudden gust of wind rattled the edge of the display.

I reached to steady the stack of hardcovers at the same time Leo did, our hands colliding and locking instinctively around the same book.

For a moment, neither of us moved. His fingers were warm against mine. His bright eyes locked on mine with a heat that made my pulse stumble.

It was nothing. A shared moment over a book, but my fox leaned forward in my chest like it was more.

By the time the sun dipped lower and the crowd started to thin, I was wound tighter than I’d been in months. We packed the table in silence, carrying boxes back toward the shop.

My head told me to keep my distance. My body had other ideas.

Inside, the shop felt quieter than usual after the festival noise. Leo set the last crate down on the counter and straightened, his shirt still clinging faintly to him from the day’s heat.

“Thanks for letting me help,” Leo said, his voice softer now that it was just us. “I know this wasn’t your thing, but you did great.”

I huffed out a dry laugh. “I survived. That’s enough.”

His grin softened. “You did more than survive.”

I should have stepped back. I should have said something dismissive and ended it there.

Instead, I found myself leaning into the warmth of him, the scent of flour and sugar and that faint wild undertone that was pure Leo.

When he reached up. Slowly and carefully brushed his fingers against my jaw. I didn’t move away. My breath caught.

“You’ve got a little dust,” Leo said, though his thumb lingered too long for it to be about dust at all.

The heat between us had been simmering all day. Now it flared, sharp and immediate. I didn’t think. I didn’t weigh consequences. I just closed the distance.

His mouth met mine like he’d been waiting for this exact second. The kiss was warm, certain, tasting faintly of lemonade and something sweeter I couldn’t name.