Page 33 of Hunter

“Good morning, indeed.” Her eyes sparkled as she moved past Wesley, who gave her a silent nod of acknowledgment. “Is this the part where I pretend not to notice the glowering biker watching your every move like a lion guarding a cupcake?”

I choked on a laugh. “He’s just…umm…making sure everything’s safe.”

“Uh-huh.” She arched a brow. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

I ducked my head and tried to focus on frosting a batch of cupcakes, my face burning.

“Back in a second,” Wesley murmured before striding out of the kitchen.

“So…” Marcy drawled, voice low and knowing. “You gonna tell me what it’s like to have an Iron Rogue look at you like he’s two seconds away from carrying you off over his shoulder, or do I have to keep guessing?”

My eyes widened. “What? No, it’s not…he was just being?—”

Marcy laughed, holding up a hand. “Relax, I’m not judging. Just making an observation. A very accurate one.”

I bit my lip and looked down, my cheeks growing hotter.

“Oh my god,” Marcy breathed. “You like it.”

I let out a small, helpless laugh. “I don’t know! He’s just so…intense.”

“Uh-huh.” Marcy smirked. “That man came in here with a predator stare, installed four cameras when I only approved one, and looked like he was one wrong answer away from ripping Austin in half the other day.”

“I know,” I sighed. “There must be something wrong with me because it all makes me weak in the knees.”

She grinned at me. “If you pass out, I’ll catch you. But if he catches you first, I’m not interfering. Hunter has clearly claimed someone in that sexy head of his.”

My brows drew together. “Claimed?”

Marcy gestured toward the door with a nod. “That man is not thinking casual thoughts about you, honey. That’s Iron Rogue-level interest. Which means it’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”

My mouth opened, then closed again since I had no clue how to respond.

“You’re doomed. But like…in a good way.” Marcy grabbed her apron. “Tell your cupcake lion that we’ve got a fresh pot of coffee brewing when he comes back, which I’m sure will be any second now. Might as well caffeinate the muscle.”

“He’s not—” I started, then sighed. “Okay, fine. He is.”

“Damn right I am,” Wesley muttered under his breath as he walked back into the kitchen and sat down on a stool only a few feet away from me.

Marcy chuckled and headed into the walk-in fridge, and I let out a long breath. Wesley might’ve been quiet, but his presence was loud. Especially with how he took every bit of our surroundings in even though it was just us and Marcy in the bakery until we opened.

I wouldn’t complain if he wanted to watch over me like some overprotective, brooding biker shadow.

I was halfway through smoothing the buttercream on the last tray of cupcakes when I heard a thunk behind me. The sound wasn’t loud, but it made me freeze mid-frost.

“Did something just—” I turned toward the noise and saw the prep table wobbling slightly to one side. One of the legs had slipped, the bolt connecting it clearly working its way loose. “Oh no.”

Marcy peeked out of the walk-in with a raised brow. “Something else broke?”

I sighed. “Yeah. I’ll text Austin to swing by later and?—”

“No,” Wesley cut in, sharp and immediate.

Both Marcy and I looked at him. He was already on his feet, moving toward the table with a quiet intensity that made my breath catch. He knelt to inspect the loose bolt, then glanced up at me.

“You’re not calling anyone.” His voice was low and final. “I’ll fix it.”

I blinked. “Do you know how?”

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