Page 5 of Unbearable Attraction
"I..." She cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. "I need to figure out what they wanted. This isn't over."
"No," Luka agreed, his amber eyes never leaving her face. "I don't think it is."
The way he said it suggested he wasn't just talking about the spirits, and that realization sent heat pooling low in her belly despite her best efforts to maintain her irritation. She'd been aware of Luka for years, it was impossible not to notice someone who took up that much space and radiated that much quiet strength. But she'd always assumed his gruff demeanor extended to genuine antisocial tendencies.
Looking at him now, seeing the way his gaze tracked her every movement with protective intensity, she wondered if perhaps the town's most notorious hermit was more complicated than she'd given him credit for.
"I should go," she said, shouldering her leather satchel with more force than necessary. "I have research to do, and you probably have furniture to build or whatever it is you do in that workshop of yours."
"Wood carving," he said, falling into step beside her as she started walking toward the cemetery gates. "And furniture, yes. Among other things."
"I wasn't asking for a detailed inventory," she muttered, but found herself stealing glances at his hands as they walked. Large, scarred from years of working with tools, but moving with the kind of careful precision that suggested he created beautiful things with them.
"The spirits called you a bridge," Luka said quietly. "What do you think that means?"
"I don't know," she admitted, her voice softer now that they were walking away from the site of the manifestation. "But I intend to find out."
"Need help?"
The offer was casual, almost offhand, but something in his tone suggested it was anything but. Leenah found herself torn between her fierce independence and the growing awarenessthat whatever was happening here might be too big for her to handle alone.
"I work better solo," she said finally, the words coming out more gently than she'd intended.
"I know," Luka replied, and the understanding in his voice made her pulse quicken. "But if you change your mind, you know where to find me."
As they reached the cemetery gates, Leenah realized that for all her irritation with his protectiveness, she'd felt steadier with him beside her than she had in years. Safer. As if having someone watching her back wasn't a sign of weakness but simply... nice.
The thought unsettled her almost as much as the manifesting spirits had.
"Thanks," she said quietly, then immediately felt the need to add, "for not treating me like I was hysterical or imagining things."
"Anyone who's lived in Hollow Oak for more than five minutes knows you don't imagine things," Luka replied, his amber eyes warm with respect. "And hysteria isn't exactly your style."
Despite her best efforts, Leenah felt a small smile tug at the corners of her mouth. "You've been paying attention to my style?"
"Hard not to," he said simply, and the honest admission made her breath catch.
Before she could think of a response that wouldn't embarrass them both, Minerva chose that moment to abandon her and trot directly to Luka, rubbing against his legs with shameless affection. The traitor was purring loud enough to wake the dead, which, given recent events, might not be entirely metaphorical.
"Looks like you've made a friend," Leenah said, trying to keep her voice light despite the flutter of betrayal.
"She's got good taste," Luka replied, crouching to scratch behind Minerva's ears with surprising gentleness for such large hands.
Watching him be soft with her cat while still radiating that quiet strength that had calmed an entire cemetery full of agitated spirits, Leenah felt her carefully maintained emotional walls develop their first crack in years. And that, she realized as she walked away from the most interesting conversation she'd had in months, might be more strange than any supernatural manifestation.
5
LUKA
Luka told himself he was making his usual evening patrol of the town's perimeter. Never mind that his typical route didn't include the winding path that led past Leenah's cottage. Or that he'd already checked the cemetery twice since this morning's incident, finding nothing more supernatural than a few confused squirrels and Mrs. Henderson's escaped poodle digging up petunias.
His bear knew exactly why they were here, padding restlessly beneath his skin with the kind of focused attention usually reserved for tracking prey. Except this wasn't about hunting, this was about the small, fierce woman who'd stood unflinching among manifesting spirits and then had the audacity to be annoyed when he'd tried to help.
The cottage sat nestled between two ancient oaks, their massive trunks twisted with age and the accumulated magic that seemed to permeate everything in Hollow Oak. Warm light spilled from the windows, painting golden rectangles across the small garden where herbs grew in neat rows despite the approaching winter chill. It was exactly the kind of home he'dexpect someone like Leenah to choose; practical, unpretentious, and slightly removed from the main bustle of town.
He should keep walking. Should continue his perfectly legitimate patrol and leave her to whatever research had kept her holed up all afternoon. The rational part of his mind pointed out that she'd made her feelings about unwanted protection quite clear that morning.
But then he caught sight of her through the front window, and rational thought scattered like leaves in a windstorm.
