Page 18 of Mountain Protector

I consider arguing, but she deserves to see what happened to her space.

“Alright. Five minutes to grab essentials. But after that, we’re leaving.”

Ruby steps over the threshold slowly, Spike’s carrier held protectively against her chest.

“Oh no,” she whispers, taking in the destruction.

“Don’t touch anything,” I warn as she steps toward a particularly large piece now lying in shreds. “There might be fingerprints.”

She nods numbly. “I need to get some clothes. And Spike’s things.”

“Grab what you need for a few days.”

I follow her closely as she picks her way through the wreckage to her bedroom.

When we’ve loaded everything into my truck, I place a hand on Ruby’s shoulder. She’s been quiet, too quiet.

“We need to go to my place,” I tell her.

“Why your place?”

I expect an argument. Some push-back against my directive. But she just nods, the fight temporarily drained from her.

“What about my car?”

“Leave it here. If they’ve been watching you, they might have placed a tracker on it.” I guide her toward my truck. “We’ll come back for it when it’s safe.”

The drive to my cabin takes forty minutes, mostly on winding mountain roads that grow progressively narrower and less traveled. Ruby sits silently beside me, Spike’s carrier secured on her lap. Through the rearview mirror, I check repeatedly for any signs of being followed, but the roads are clear.

“You live all the way out here?” Ruby finally asks as we turn onto a gravel road that disappears into dense forest.

“I like my privacy.”

And the tactical advantages of a remote location with clear sight lines. My cabin sits on ten acres of wooded land, the nearest neighbor over a mile away.

The cabin comes into view as we round a final bend—a sturdy two-story structure of timber and stone. Not large, but solid. Defensible. Mine.

“It’s beautiful,” Ruby says softly as I park beside the covered porch.

I grab her duffel and Spike’s supplies while she carries the lizard’s carrier. The evening air is cooler up here in the mountains, carrying the scent of pine and approaching rain. I unlock the heavy front door and usher Ruby inside, flipping on lights as we enter.

The main room is open-concept with a stone fireplace, kitchen, and dining space beside large windows that in daylight would show the forest and mountains beyond. A staircase leads to the loft bedroom above. The décor is minimal but comfortable. No clutter. Nothing unnecessary.

Ruby steps into my space, and something primal stirs in my chest. Her scent fills the air, that intoxicating mix of vanilla and ink that’s been driving me crazy all day. Watching her move through my cabin, her fingers trailing along the back of my couch, sends me right back to that storage room. Those same delicate fingers gripping my shoulders as I pressed her against the wall, her body arching into mine.

My cock hardens at the memory.

Fuck. Does she remember it the same way? Is she thinking about it now, standing in my home, knowing we’ll be alone here all night? The way she avoids meeting my eyes tells me everything I need to know.

“Make yourself at home,” I tell her, setting her bag down, fighting to keep my voice steady. “I’ll get a fire going.”

She stands in the center of the room, still holding Spike’s carrier, looking smaller than usual in the aftermath of the break-in.

“Where should I set up Spike?”

I point to a spot near the fireplace. “That area gets good warmth from the fire. There’s an outlet nearby for his heat lamp.”

While Ruby busies herself creating a temporary home for her lizard, I build a fire in the stone hearth, the familiar routine helping to calm the storm of desire and protectiveness raging through me. Once the flames are crackling, I move to the kitchen.

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