Page 19 of Burned By My Mate

He steps forward and grabs the tall one while Ryker grabs the short one, and I smile as they drag the two men out the back exit.

I hope they kill them,my bear snarls.

I turn to check on Emerson and see her white face.

“Pick the canvases, mate. We need to go.”

She blinks, snapping out of her thoughts, and nods. I watch, on guard, as she grabs a few different canvas sizes, and then we head for the checkout. I throw some money down on the counter, and we rush out to my Jeep.

I open her door and help her inside before I put her things in the back and climb behind the wheel.

We speed home, and I can tell that Emerson is on edge.

“You’ll be okay. I’m going to keep you safe.”

“Maybe we should get a home security system,” she says nervously. “You can’t be with me all of the time.”

I want to argue with her, but I know that she’s right.

“We will,” I promise her.

She said we,my bear says happily, and I huff out a laugh.

We need to tell her,he says, and I know that he’s right.

We will. Soon.

SEVEN

Emerson

I wakeup the next morning and, for a second, I forget where I am. The bed beneath me issofterthan mine ever was, the blanketsthicker, and the air carries the faintest hint ofcedar and smoke. It takes me a moment to remember that my house isgone—that I’m in Logan’s home,his space.

That thought makes something deep inside mesettle. I’ve only known the grumpy guy for a few days, but there’s something about him

I shove that feeling down and force myself to sit up, stretching as the morning light spills through the window. The events of yesterday swirl in my mind—the scratching at the door, the tension in Logan’s voice when he told me tostay, the way his blue eyes burned when he promised to protect me.

I shake off the thought. I don’t need a protector. I’ve been taking care of myself foryears, and I’m not about to start depending on some overbearing firefighter just because he makes good bacon.

I throw off the blankets and smile when I see the neat stack of clean clothes that Logan left for me on the dresser. I hurry to change into the borrowed clothes and then step into the hallway, pausing when I hear movement from the kitchen.

I should’ve known he’d be up already. I swear the mandoesn’t sleep.

I follow the smell of coffee and find Logan standing at the stove,shirtless, his broad back flexing as he moves.

I freeze.

Holy hell.

I knew he was big, but this?

His muscles shift as he flips something in the pan, his bare skin dusted withfaint scars, his dark brown hair a littlemussedlike he just ran his hands through it.

I must make a sound, because he glances over his shoulder, his sharp blue eyes locking onto mine.

“You’re up,” he says, voicelow, rough from sleep.

I swallow hard.

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