Page 10 of The Purrfect Rival

“Mrs. Plumthorn exaggerates. The mayor and I exchanged some documents. Static electricity, nothing more.” Her fox stirred at the lie, nipping at her conscience.

“Mm-hmm.” Her mother’s skepticism traveled clearly through the phone. “And I suppose the mayor growling when you left the room was also... static electricity?”

Heat rushed to Kalyna’s cheeks. She glanced at her reflection in the window—her eyes had flashed crimson at the mere mention of that moment.

“It wasn’t a growl. It was... a throat-clearing.”

“Of course, dear.” A pause. “You know, your father and I aren’t like some of the older families. All that fuss about foxes and lions not mixing—such outdated thinking.”

“Mother—”

“I’m just saying, whoever your mate turns out to be, we’ll support you. Even if he happens to be six-foot-two with golden eyes and a mayoral sash.”

“He’s not my mate!” The denial came too quickly, too forcefully. Her fox yipped in protest, pacing restlessly beneath her skin.

Her mother’s soft chuckle said everything. “The library renovations start today, correct? With the mayor’s oversight?”

“Yes,” Kalyna sighed, surrendering to the topic change. “I’m meeting him there before opening hours.”

“How lovely. Wear that deep green blouse—it brings out your eyes when they... flash.”

“Good-bye, Mother,” Kalyna said firmly, ending the call before Marisol could make further observations.

She leaned against the counter, breathing deeply to calm her racing pulse. Her mother couldn’t possibly have detected the lie over the phone... could she? No. Impossible. Even with fox shifter intuition, some things simply couldn’t be sensed at a distance.

Kalyna moved to her bedroom, opening the wardrobe with a resigned sigh. Her fingers brushed past the green blouse her mother had suggested, then returned to it. The soft fabric calledto her, and she pulled it from the hanger with a mixture of defiance and surrender.

As she dressed, memories of Rust flooded her consciousness unbidden. The moment their fingers had touched—gold and crimson sparks dancing between them, the instant recognition that had nothing to do with logical thought. The rumbling purr-growl he’d made when she’d left the council chamber, a sound that had sent delicious shivers through her body.

Her fox whined with longing, urging her to find him, touch him, claim him as hers. She clamped down on the impulse, forcing herself to think pragmatically. Lions and foxes didn’t mate. Centuries of tradition forbade it. Skulk and pride elders would object. The practical complications alone were staggering.

Yet her fox didn’t care about complications. It wanted what it wanted with primal simplicity.

“It’s just a renovation project,” she told her reflection firmly. “Professional. Temporary. Nothing more.”

Her fox disagreed, pacing anxiously in her consciousness.

TEN

The library stood peaceful in the early morning light, its stained-glass windows casting jewel-toned shadows across the polished oak floors. Kalyna slipped her key into the lock, breathing in the comforting scent of old books and beeswax polish.

She’d arrived early to examine the structural damage without curious patrons hovering nearby. The engineer’s report had kept her awake most of the night—detailed descriptions of stress fractures and load-bearing weaknesses burning behind her eyelids whenever she tried to sleep.

The clock on the wall showed 7:20. Rust would arrive at 8:00. Forty minutes to compose herself, to reinforce her professional demeanor, to remind her fox that work relationships must remain uncomplicated by primal urges.

Her phone buzzed with a text message, and her stomach flipped when she saw Rust’s name on the screen.

Already in the parking lot. Is it too early to come in?

So much for preparation time. Her fox perked up, suddenly fully alert, tails swishing with anticipation. Kalyna inhaled deeply, willing her magic to remain dormant.

Not at all. Door’s open.

She typed the reply with steady fingers that betrayed none of the butterflies in her stomach. Tucking her phone away, she smoothed her skirt—not nervous, just professional tidiness—and moved toward the front entrance.

The door opened before she reached it. Rust filled the doorway, the morning sun creating a golden halo around his tall figure. He wore charcoal slacks and a blue button-down with the sleeves rolled to reveal muscular forearms. Her fox sighed appreciatively at the sight.

“Good morning,” he said, his deep voice sending a shiver down her spine despite her mental preparations. “I hope I’m not too early.”

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