Page 83 of Grin and Bear It

“Jash,” he explained. “Security planning meeting at ten.”

“You should go.” Thora shifted back to sit beside him, though she kept her hand on his thigh, unwilling to break contact completely. “The business doesn’t run itself.”

“I can reschedule.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering. “You’re still healing.”

“I’ll come with you.” She stretched her injured shoulder, demonstrating its improved mobility. “I’m going stir-crazy in this cabin.”

His expression turned skeptical. “Willow said another day of rest.”

“Willow isn’t a sabertooth.” Thora stood, pulling him up with her. “Besides, I heal faster when you’re near. Something about our...” She hesitated, the word still new and weighty on her tongue. “Our bond.”

The smile that spread across his face warmed her from the inside out. “Our bond,” he repeated as if testing the phrase. “I like the sound of that.”

SEVENTY-THREE

The security planning meeting stretched through the morning and into lunch. Seated around the conference table at Maxen Corp headquarters, Thora found her attention drifting from the blueprints spread before them to Artair’s hands as he pointed out potential vulnerabilities. Strong, capable hands that had cared for her so gently during her recovery—the same hands that had trembled with barely contained emotion when she first regained consciousness.

“If we angle the cameras here,” she suggested, leaning forward to indicate a blind spot on the diagram, “coverage improves without adding equipment costs.”

Her shoulder pressed against Artair’s as they examined the plans. The contact—casual, unforced—would have made her tense with wariness a month ago. Now it grounded her, a physical anchor that satisfied some newly awakened need inside her.

“But increases power consumption,” Jash countered, pushing his glasses up his nose. “The electrical grid?—”

“Can handle it,” Artair interjected. “I’d rather spend more on electricity than explain to insurance why someone walked off with the Beryl Collection.”

Thora nodded in agreement, her hand coming to rest on his forearm without conscious thought. She caught Bryn’s knowing smile from across the table and realized how naturally she’d begun initiating such touches. The most surprising part wasn’t the action itself but how right it felt—like her body had recognized what her mind had been slow to accept.

“We need to review the motion sensors by the east entrance,” Jash continued, flipping through his tablet. “The sensitivity needs calibration after last week’s false alarm.”

“I’ll check them,” Thora offered, straightening. “I need to get back in the field anyway.”

Artair’s concern pulsed between them, though he voiced no objection. Instead, his hand found hers under the table, a gentle squeeze conveying both support and caution.

“Tomorrow,” he suggested. “After Willow’s final check.”

She intertwined her fingers with his, the gesture surprisingly intimate despite its simplicity. “Tomorrow,” she agreed.

The meeting broke for lunch with Bryn producing sandwiches from a local café. As the others discussed security protocols, Bryn slid into the chair beside Thora.

“So,” she began, honey-blonde hair bouncing as she unwrapped her sandwich, “when’s the housewarming?”

Thora blinked. “Housewarming?”

“For your new place,” Bryn elaborated. “You must have found something by now, right? Your temporary stay at the cabin has been, what, three weeks?”

An unexpected tightness gripped Thora’s chest. She hadn’t thought about moving out recently—hadn’t wanted to think about it. The cabin had become... comfortable. Safe. But she couldn’t impose on Artair indefinitely, couldn’t assume her presence was welcome beyond her recovery.

“I haven’t really looked,” she admitted, aware of Artair’s sudden stillness beside her. “Been focused on healing.”

“Well, there’s no rush,” Bryn said brightly, though her eyes darted between Thora and her brother. “You’re welcome at the cabin as long as you need.”

An awkward silence descended. Thora studied her sandwich, appetite suddenly diminished.

“Actually,” Artair said, his voice carefully neutral, “I was hoping you might stay.”

Thora looked up, meeting his gaze across the table. “Stay?”

“At the cabin.” His expression remained composed, but she caught the slight tension in his shoulders, the careful way he chose his words. “Permanently.”

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