We flagged a nearby official. They inspected the hurdle, tested it, exchanged quiet looks. Confirmed.
“Good catch, Mr. Hill,” one of them said, looking embarrassed. “We’ll reset the entire section and check the rest.”
Jaime stood beside me in silence as they worked.
Then, quietly, he said, “You did good, John.”
My cover name slid off his tongue like it belonged there. It barely reached my ears over the roar of the ballroom, over the hum of voices, the scrape of chairs, and the constant patter of paws on rubber matting.
But it still landed like thunder in my chest.
“Thanks, darling,” I said, leaning into the act just enough, trying and failing, to make it sound casual.
For half a second, I braced for his usual cold reaction. The clipped correction. The narrowed eyes. The reminder to stay professional. It never came. Jaime didn’t even flinch at the nickname.
There was no reprimand and no visible irritation. Just a brief, unreadable pause in his expression before he turned his attention back to the course.
Something shifted after that. Not dramatically and not in any way I could point to and name with certainty, but unmistakably.
Earlier, during registration, I’d felt his resistance like a solid wall between us. Polite but distant. Guarded. Now that wall felt thinner. Not gone completely, but no longer impenetrable.
Don’t read into it, I warned myself.Now is not the time to analyze whether he likes you or still can’t stand you, you idiot.
This wasn’t about me. It was about the mission Cooper had entrusted us with. About keeping the peace between humans and shifters.
It was also about proving I was worthy of the faith my alpha had placed in me.
Jaime walked closer. When he leaned in to whisper strategy, he angled his body so I could hear. When he compared timing, he murmured his thoughts instead of keeping them locked behind his walls.
Once, his fingers brushed mine again when we both reached for the same course map. This time, neither of us pulled away right away.
Twice, my wolf reacted before my mind did. The first time, I felt tension spike off Jaime like static before a storm. A warning pulse straight through my bones. I turned…
And caught a thin, red-haired man lingering too close to the barrier, pretending to scroll through his phone while watching the handlers’ section far too closely.
The second time, Jaime stiffened before a metal crate crashed behind a vendor booth across the hall. I felt his flinch before he moved. Felt it ripple through me like a shared nerve.
We were syncing, and that both thrilled and terrified me. By the time the walkthrough ended, the air between us was charged with something unsaid. Not hostile or warm, but undeniably aware.
“Good instincts out there,” Jaime said as we headed back toward Pampi’s rest pen. “You see details.”
“So do you,” I pointed out.
“Different ones.”
I hesitated. “Look, I know we’re not exactly friendly.”
“We don’t have to be friendly,” he cut in gently. “We just have to be effective.”
A pause. Then quieter, “And we were effective today.”
That was more than I’d expected. We returned Pampi to her rest enclosure and stepped aside near the indoor water station. The roar of the ballroom rolled around us like surf.
“Chris,” he whispered my name.
I turned. Jaime hesitated for the first time since I’d known him.
“You felt that earlier, didn’t you?” he asked. “Before the hurdle.”
