Page 9 of Bear Naked Truth
Dorian felt it like gravity.
Markus let out a low whistle. “Well, if anyone can talk a haunted inn into behaving, it’s you. Though you might wanna throw a few drops of vervain under the floorboards, just in case.”
“I’ve got black salt, enchanted sage, and an iron nail that belonged to a shipwrecked banshee,” Autumn said dryly. “We’re covered.”
Rowan blinked. “You have a banshee nail?”
Autumn’s mouth twitched. “It was a trade. Long story.”
Dorian watched her settle into the space, talking shop with the bookstore wolves like she wasn’t completely new to town.She still kept her arms crossed over her chest, one boot toe tapping the floor absently, but her shoulders had lowered. Her laugh had loosened. That wall she kept around herself had a few cracks now, and he couldn’t help but hope some of those were for him.
“Well,” Markus said, slapping his hands on his thighs, “if you two ever want to attend Couples Night, we’ve got one coming up this Friday. Love spells, tea leaves, and mildly possessed fortune cookies.”
Autumn shot him a look. “We’re not?—”
“We’ll think about it,” Dorian said quickly, cutting her off with a charming smile. “Thanks, Mark. Appreciate the invite.”
Autumn looked at him as they stepped back out onto the cobbled sidewalk, the door jingling behind them.
“You’re enjoying this too much,” she muttered.
“What, walking through town with a beautiful woman on my arm?” he asked, offering his elbow like an old-school gentleman.
She let out a disgruntled huff but took it anyway, sliding her arm through his. “This is still pretend, remember.”
He didn’t say it, but gods help him, it wasn’t pretend for him. Not anymore. Not with the way his bear seemed to recognize her.
Celestial Pines buzzed with midday activity as they passed The Spellbound Sip, where Nico Voss was arguing with a talking mug. Across the street, Missy Hawthorne was stringing wards in her shop window with more flair than necessity. Every corner seemed to pulse with magic and gossip and the kind of supernatural charm you couldn’t find anywhere else.
“You really like this town,” Autumn said softly.
Dorian looked around. “I do. It’s weird, and noisy, and nosy—but it feels like home.”
She was quiet for a beat, then said, “I’ve never had a place that felt like that.”
Dorian’s fingers tightened slightly where their arms touched. “Maybe you just haven’t stayed long enough yet.”
She didn’t answer but didn’t pull away either, just kept her thoughts to herself.
When she glanced up at him a few minutes later, cheeks slightly pink from the cool mountain breeze—or maybe something else—Dorian knew one thing for sure.
He was already in deep.
5
AUTUMN
Autumn didn’t do small talk, and she sure as hell didn’t do small towns. At least, not in any permanent sense. But Celestial Pines had a way of settling into your bones like it belonged there.
Still, it was strange—unsettling, even—to walk down Main Street and feel… noticed.
Not stared at. Not in that suspicious “who’s the outsider?” way most tight-knit supernatural communities wielded like a passive-aggressive welcome mat. This was different. The townsfolk smiled, nodded, greeted her like she was someone. Like she might stay. Like she mattered.
She wasn’t used to being seen—not really. Not beyond her work, not beyond the label of ghost whisperer. Back in the city, most people kept her at arm’s length. They liked the idea of her. They didn’t like the reality. Too weird and quiet.
Too much.
Dorian hadn’t flinched. Hadn’t pulled away when she mentioned the dead, or the heaviness that came with them. He watched her, not like a man trying to figure out her secrets, butlike one memorizing the way she stirred her coffee or smiled without meaning to.
