Page 4 of Mountain Protector

“No one told me seven,” I argue, though it doesn’t really matter. I wouldn’t have gotten up early even if I’d known.

“Well, I’m here now.” His gaze moves past me, scanning what he can see of my apartment. “You going to invite me in?”

I don’t move. “I don’t need a bodyguard. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“I’m sure you can, sweetheart.” He says it casually, like he’s been calling me that for years. “But Holloway isn’t some drunk customer getting handsy at last call. He’s dangerous.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart,” I snap, ignoring the little flip my stomach does at the endearment. “And I’m well aware of who Vincent Holloway is.”

Clay steps closer, and I have to fight the urge to step back. Not because I’m intimidated, but because his presence is overwhelming in the confined space of my doorway.

“Here’s how this works,” he says, voice lower now. “I stay with you. Where you go, I go. I sleep on your couch, I escort you to your shop, I watch the doors while you work. I check every room before you enter. I verify every person who approaches you. I do this until Holloway is back behind bars.”

“That’s insane. I have clients, I have a private life?—“

“Which you won’t have at all if Holloway gets to you.” His gaze is unwavering. “This isn’t negotiable, Ruby.”

The sound of my name in his mouth does something to me. Which is ridiculous. I’ve known this man for all of two minutes.

“My apartment is tiny,” I argue. “There’s barely room for me and Spike, let alone some six-foot-plus bodyguard.”

One eyebrow raises slightly. “Spike?”

On cue, there’s a scratching from behind me.

I turn to see Spike has somehow escaped his terrarium and is making his way across the living room floor toward the door.

“My bearded dragon,” I explain. “He’s an escape artist.”

Clay’s mouth twitches. “Looks like security is already an issue here.”

“Very funny.” I bend down to scoop up Spike, who settles onto my palm with his usual imperial attitude. “This is Spike. Spike, meet the intruder.”

Clay reaches out a finger, letting Spike inspect it.

To my surprise, Spike doesn’t hiss or bite like he usually does with strangers. Instead, he bobs his head slightly, the closest thing to approval I’ve ever seen from him.

“Traitor,” I mutter to Spike.

Clay’s eyes meet mine again. “Are you going to let me in, or should we continue discussing your safety in a public hallway where anyone could be listening?”

ChapterTwo

CLAY

The moment Rubyopens her apartment door, something shifts inside me.

A primal, white-hot awareness I’ve never felt before. It’s like someone flipped a switch, turning on parts of me I didn’t know existed. I stand there for a half-second too long, taking her in. My job is to protect her, not want her.

But fuck, do I want her.

She steps back, pulling her tank top down where it’s ridden up, revealing a slash of pale stomach inked with delicate flowers. I force my eyes up and follow her into the apartment. The door clicks shut behind me, and I find myself in Ruby’s world.

It’s chaos.

Art supplies are scattered across every surface. Half-finished sketches pinned to walls. A blanket fort on the couch with a book facedown on the cushion. Mismatched furniture that somehow works together. The scent of coffee, paint, and something uniquely her.

I catalog everything, building a mental map. Security instincts, sure, but there’s something else driving me. I want to know her. All of her.

---