Switched Bride True Luna novel Chapter 102

Emily

I wasn’t sure what I expected when Logan told me we had somewhere to be this afternoon. A meeting, a press appearance, another forced smile to serve a Pack headline, maybe.

But when the car pulled into the cobbled edge of the arts district and I spotted watercolor banners, and the faint smell of roasted almonds and beeswax, I blinked at him.

“You’re bringing me to a craft festival?” I asked, one brow lifted.

Logan cut the engine, unbothered. “It’s a historic artisan fair. Loc vendors, Pack history demonstrations. Cultural investment.”

“That’s a very official way of saying ‘craft festival.‘

“I thought you might like it,” he said simply, opening his door before I could say more.

I sat there for a beat longer, unsure what made me pause more: that he’d planned something casual, or that part of me did like it. The sun was warm but forgiving as we stepped into the plaza. Music drifted from a trio of violinists playing near a fountain.

People wandered among pottery stalls, handmade soaps, preserves, and pressed flower art. Children darted past with sticky fingers and face paint, and someone handed Logan a sample of herbal tea, mistaking him for just anoth

visitor

He looked ridiculous trying to sip politely while scanning for vendors. I bit back a smile.

We wandered slowly and when I paused to admire a wall of hand–painted ceramics, he just stood nearby with his hands in his pockets like some casual, overly large bodyguard.

I turned a bowl over in my hands, surprised. It was the work of a local artist I’d once mentioned in an offhand comment during a debate about artisan subsidies. The same artist had been struggling to keep her studio open.

“How did you-” I started.

Logan shrugged. “You brought her up before. I read her last interview. She talked about spiritual design in nature. Seemed like something you’d appreciate.”

I did. I was surprised he remembered.

We moved on, my pace slower now. He bought us roasted almonds from a vendor who called me “Alpha’s Logan didn’t correct her. I didn’t either.

He stopped at a woodworking stall and asked questions about the tools like he actually cared.

tha wink.

At a gallery tent, he stepped aside to let me wander alone through portraits of the region’s Luna lineage. I found myself looking at brushstrokes more than bloodlines.

I looked across the path and saw Logan trying to haggle for the bowl I’d liked earlier.

Logan, who didn’t even carry his own wallet most of the time, now fumbled through cash with that furrowed brow he wore when faced with important tasks.

The vendor laughed and corrected him gently, and I had to turn away before I stared too long.

That was the thing. It wasn’t that he was trying to impress me. That would’ve been easier to ignore. Logan was trying to learn me…what I liked, what I noticed, what I paused for.

It left me unsteady and heated my skin.

By the time we circled back toward the plaza’s edge, my bag held a few small items I hadn’t expected to want, and the late afternoon light slanted golden through the trees.

Chapter 102

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