Page 28 of His Lucky Charm

I shook my head, amazed at the conspiracy that had apparently been unfolding around me. For someone who prided himself on observation, I’d missed all the signs.

“So instead of talking about guardian mythology,” I said slowly, “we’re announcing our engagement to three hundred festival-goers?”

“And the pack elders, who are in the front row.” He looked slightly nervous again. “Is that okay? We can still do the presentation if you want. I just thought—”

I silenced him with a kiss. “It’s more than okay,” I assured him when we parted. “Though I’d like to point out this isn’t exactly keeping a low profile for the pack.”

“We’re getting married, not announcing I can turn into a wolf,” he countered. “Besides, public celebrations are great cover. Everyone’s too busy being happy for us to notice anything unusual.”

He had a point. Over the years, I’d learned that the pack hid in plain sight—using festivals, celebrations, and public events as cover for their more supernatural activities. A pack leader’s engagement was perfect camouflage for the increased Guardian presence in town this weekend.

“Well then,” I straightened his tie again, then my own shirt collar. “I suppose we should go make an announcement.”

Rafferty’s smile could have outshone the sun. “After you, future Mr. O’Sullivan-Byrne.”

“Byrne-O’Sullivan,” I corrected automatically. “Alphabetical order makes more sense.”

“We’ll negotiate,” he promised, taking my hand as we headed toward the main hall. “We have plenty of time.”

And we did. A lifetime, in fact—which for a Guardian and his human mate, promised to be quite the adventure.

Chapter 15

Our engagement announcement was met with thunderous applause and absolutely zero surprise from the townspeople. Apparently, I was the only one who hadn’t known this was coming.

“You’ve been dropping hints for months about ‘upgrading your relationship status,’” Siobhan informed me at the impromptu celebration that replaced my lecture. “We all knew it was just a matter of time before one of you popped the question.”

“I wasn’t dropping hints,” I protested. “I was making theoretical observations about the sociological benefits of formalized partnership agreements.”

She rolled her eyes, an expression she’d perfected through years of dealing with her brother and now me. “Like I said, hints.”

The festival transformed seamlessly into an engagement party, with The Lucky Hound becoming the epicenter of congratulations, free-flowing drinks, and increasingly embarrassing stories about both of us.

“—and then he asked if werewolves shed seasonally or year-round!” Kieran roared with laughter, now fully comfortable sharing pack jokes with me after three years of gradual warming. “With a straight face! Like he was asking about the weather!”

“It was a legitimate research question,” I defended, though I was laughing too. “The correlation between coat density and seasonal changes is well-documented in canids.”

“We’re not dogs,” Kieran reminded me, as he had countless times.

“No, you’re much more demanding,” I countered, earning another round of laughter from the pack members gathered around our table.

Rafferty returned from the bar with fresh drinks, sliding onto the bench beside me and immediately draping an arm across my shoulders. The casual possessiveness still sent a pleasant warmth through me, especially with the new weight of the ring on my finger.

“What are we laughing about?” he asked, pressing a kiss to my temple.

“Your mate’s scientific inquiry methods,” Moira replied from across the table, her eyes twinkling with mischief despite her advanced years. “Particularly his interest in shedding patterns.”

Rafferty groaned. “You’re never going to let him live that down, are you?”

“Never,” the pack chorused in unison.

I leaned into Rafferty’s side, utterly content despite being the target of their teasing. This was family—my found family—with all the warmth and gentle ribbing that entailed.

As the evening progressed, the celebration shifted from public to pack-focused, with tourists and non-aware locals gradually filtering out. By midnight, only those in the know remained, allowing for more open references to the supernatural aspects of our relationship.

“Have you decided on a ceremony format?” Valerie asked as we shared a quiet moment at the bar. Her own marriage to a Guardian had provided valuable guidance during my integration into pack life.

“We’ve barely been engaged twelve hours,” I reminded her. “But I imagine we’ll combine traditions. Something for the public eye, and something more… pack-oriented.”