Page 11 of The Purrfect Rival

“Not at all.” Her voice came out steadier than she expected.

Rust stepped inside. The space between them seemed to crackle with unspoken awareness, a magnetic field that made every movement feel significant.

“I brought the engineer’s diagrams.” He held up a leather portfolio. “And coffee.” He extended a cup from the Sunrise Diner with an almost shy gesture that contrasted with his imposing presence.

“Thank you.” Their fingers brushed during the exchange, and Kalyna had to suppress a gasp at the tiny golden spark that jumped between them. Her fox surged forward in her consciousness, eager for more contact.

Rust’s eyes widened slightly. He’d felt it too.

“Shall we examine the west wing first?” she suggested desperate to reestablish professional boundaries.

They walked through the reading room, Kalyna hyperaware of his presence behind her—the subtle scent of cedar and something uniquely lion that made her fox quiver with recognition, the sound of his measured footsteps, the sense of contained power in his movements.

“The main support beam shows new fractures,” she explained, pointing upward. “The engineer warned the whole section could collapse during a heavy snow or strong storm.”

Rust studied the fifteen-foot-high ceiling, his expression contemplative. “Where does the main crack originate and which are the smaller branches versus separate lines?”

From this distance, even with shifter eyesight, they were difficult to spot “I’ll need the step ladder to show you.” Kalyna retrieved a wooden ladder from a nearby storage closet, positioning it beneath the area in question.

She climbed up, conscious of Rust watching her ascent. Her fox preened under his attention even as her human side wondered if the green blouse had been a mistake after all. The ladder wobbled slightly as she reached the sixth step, causing her to grab the edge of a nearby shelf.

In an instant, Rust moved forward, one hand pressing firmly against the small of her back while the other steadied the ladder. The heat of his palm seared through her blouse, sending a jolt of pure sensation up her spine. She gasped, gripping the shelf tighter.

“Steady,” he murmured, his voice closer than expected.

ELEVEN

Kalyna glanced down to find his eyes locked on hers—no longer simply golden but glowing with an inner light that betrayed his lion’s awareness. His pupils had narrowed to predatory slits, focused entirely on her.

Her own magic surged in response, a burst of crimson energy that made the books nearest her flutter their pages like startled birds. The surge wasn’t fear but recognition—her fox reaching toward his lion on a level beyond conscious thought.

Her fox pushed her to lean into his touch, to brush her cheek against his hand, to acknowledge what both their animal sides already knew. Kalyna fought the urge, forcing herself to remain still.

“I—thank you,” she managed, voice unsteady. “I can manage now.”

His hand lingered a moment longer than necessary before he stepped back, allowing her space to continue her inspection. But something had shifted between them, the air itself charged with potential.

Kalyna forced herself to focus on the beams, tracing the spiderweb of cracks with her finger. “The damage now extendsfarther than the report indicated. See how it branches here, and here?”

Rust nodded, making notes in a small leather-bound notebook. “The entire support structure will need reinforcement before any cosmetic repairs begin. That will increase the budget substantially. Do you know of any patchwork from the past?”

“There may be historical records of previous repairs,” Kalyna said, carefully descending the ladder. “The library’s structural history is documented in the archive room. I’ll check if there are precedents for this type of damage.”

“Lead the way.”

They crossed the main floor, passing between tall shelves of books that whispered as they moved. Her fox urged her to walk closer to him, to “accidentally” brush her arm against his. She deliberately maintained a professional distance, ignoring the whine of disappointment from her primal side.

The archive room occupied the building’s northeast corner, a space deliberately kept cool and dry to preserve fragile documents.

“The more modern architectural history is in this section,” Kalyna explained, gesturing to a row of leather-bound volumes on a central display table.

As they approached the table, both reached for the book—a worn tome with “Architectural Modifications & Repairs, Volume III” embossed on its spine. Their fingers brushed atop the cracked leather binding.

The contact ignited an immediate reaction. Gold and crimson sparks danced where skin met skin, swirling upward to form translucent images above the book itself—ghost-like figures of lions and foxes working side-by-side to construct buildings, hazy visions of ceremonies where red and golden magic mingled to strengthen foundation stones.

“What on earth?” Kalyna breathed, watching the magical tableau with wide eyes.

Rust looked equally stunned. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

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