She undressed with shaking hands, her body still processing the adrenaline crash from the attack. The familiar softness of her worn pajamas helped ground her, but she could still smell him through the door. Pine and leather and that indefinable scent that screamed ‘mate’ to her bear.
Brie climbed into bed and pulled her covers up to her chin. Through the thin walls of her apartment, she could feel Hunter like gravity, the mate bond humming between them. She turned toward the wall, trying to ignore the pull, but her bear wouldn’t let her rest. After a few minutes, she turned back toward the door.
She heard his weight shift on her couch. This was wrong. All of it. Her mate sleeping in the living room like hired security. Like she was a job. Like the mate bond meant nothing. His scent had already started seeping under her door. It made her chest tight with want and frustration.
The clock read 1:47 AM when she gave up pretending to sleep. Every sound from the living room had kept her on edge. The creak of the couch when he shifted. The soft pad of his feet when he’d gotten up at midnight.
She’d dozed fitfully between two and three thirty, dreams full of hands grabbing at her and Hunter always just out of reach.When her alarm went off at three forty-five, she was already awake, staring at the ceiling, and preparing herself for the strange new reality of her life.
Brie opened her bedroom door to find Hunter in her kitchen, fully dressed and alert like he’d been awake for hours. Steam rose from a coffee mug, her favorite one with tiny bears dancing around the rim. The sight of him using her things made her freeze in the doorway.
“You’re awake.”
“Coffee’s fresh.” He gestured to the pot.
She poured her own coffee and took a long sip. Hunter drained his mug in three long swallows and set it in her sink. After she got ready for work, she met him back in the living room.
“Ready?” His keys were already in his hand.
“Yeah…” She grabbed her purse and bakery keys, following him out the door.
His truck smelled like him, and she pressed against the passenger door as he drove the eight blocks to the bakery. The streets were empty at four in the morning, just the occasional delivery truck and the streetlights creating pools of yellow against the dark. He parked directly in front of the bakery’s main entrance.
When they walked inside, he was close enough that she could have leaned back into him. Her bear wanted to do exactly that, to sink into his strength and let him hold her up. But her human mind wouldn’t let her.
The bakery felt different with him in it. She moved through her startup routine, muscle memory taking over as she firedup ovens and pulled ingredients from the walk-in cooler. He positioned himself strategically, checking both exits before settling where he could see everything.
“You can sit out front if you want,” she offered, tying her apron. “Or in my office.”
“I’m good here.”
“Here” was a stool near the back door. Every move she made, she felt his eyes tracking her. The familiar routine of morning baking helped take her mind off things. Measuring flour didn’t require emotional processing, and kneading dough didn’t ask questions about mate bonds.
When Sophie arrived at six, her eyes went wide at the sight of Hunter. He’d moved to a front table by the window, coffee and newspaper creating an illusion of normal customer behavior. Except normal customers didn’t scan the street every thirty seconds or tense when cars slowed outside.
“Morning,” Sophie said carefully, looking between them. “Everything okay?”
“We had an incident last night,” Brie said, keeping her voice level. “Hunter’s providing security for a while.”
“An incident?” Sophie’s voice pitched higher. “What kind of incident?”
“The kind that means I’ll be around for the foreseeable future,” Hunter said without looking up from his paper.
Sophie’s eyes went even wider, but she read the room and didn’t push. She tied on her apron and got to work, though Brie caught her sneaking glances at Hunter throughout her opening routine.
The morning rush came and went. Regular customers greeted Brie normally, though several did double-takes at Hunter’s dark presence. He looked like a storm cloud that had wandered into a harvest garden, all hard edges and intensity among her carefully curated cozy atmosphere.
Mrs. Whitaker ordered her usual cranberry scone and asked about Winter Festival preparations. Tommy from the hardware store complained about the November cold while waiting for his black coffee and bear claw. Life continued despite the fact that Brie’s mate sat ten feet away.
Her bear whined. The pull between them was a constant ache, like gravity trying to draw them together while Hunter’s professional walls held them apart. This was her reality now. Protected but not cherished. Guarded but not wanted. Her mate in her space but not in her life.
Brie forced herself to focus on the Winter Festival. She measured ingredients for gingerbread, and she lost count of how many eggs she’d cracked. This arrangement with Hunter was going to drive her insane.
But at least she was alive to be driven insane. The memory of those hands grabbing her, the van door opening like a mouth ready to swallow her whole, made her hands shake. Hunter had saved her. Whatever his reasons, whatever his emotional distance, he’d been there when she needed him.
Chapter
Eleven
