Page 18 of Guard Bear
"So, you decided to patrol my property in the middle of the night?" But her tone had shifted slightly, less accusatory and more resigned. "How long were you watching before the goats got out?"
"Maybe an hour." The admission scraped his throat. "I couldn't sleep. Kept thinking about the pattern of escalation. My bear wouldn't settle."
She studied him over her coffee cup. "Your bear, or you?"
"Both." He met her eyes, trying for honesty. "I know it was wrong. I know I violated your boundaries. Again. I just... I can't turn off the need to make sure you're safe."
Joy sighed, taking another bite. The silence stretched, broken only by birds calling in the afternoon sun. Finally, she said, "These cinnamon rolls are probably the only reason I'm not kicking you off my property right now."
"They're that good?"
"Don't push it." But the corner of her mouth twitched. "One more unauthorized patrol and we're done, Andre. I mean it."
"Understood." Relief flooded through him. A second chance he probably didn't deserve.
"Now show me these cameras before I change my mind." She took another bite of her roll. "And explain how they work so I don't have to depend on my stalker for security."
Andre forced himself to focus on his checklist instead of the way she licked frosting from her lips. "So, eight cameras total. Full perimeter coverage." He turned the tablet toward her, showing the property map he'd created. "Night vision, motion sensors, cellular backup."
Joy leaned forward to see better, and her knee brushed his under the table. The contact sent lightning up his spine.
"Show me where each one goes." She took another sip of coffee, studying the diagram with sharp attention.
He pointed to each location, trying to ignore how her scent—lavender and honey and sex—wrapped around him in the small space between them. "Goat pen here, overlapping coverage. Workshop needs three angles because of the blind spots."
"Special consideration there." His voice came out rougher than intended. "We'll set the sensors to ignore the flight paths during active hours."
She nodded, taking a bite of the cinnamon roll. A drop of glaze clung to her thumb, and she licked it off absently. Andre's bear whined at the sight of her pink tongue.
"Battery backup?" she asked, either oblivious to his torture or enjoying it.
"Seventy-two hours minimum." He grabbed a cinnamon roll, just to give his hands something to do. "Solar trickle chargers for normal operation."
"I can't remember the last time someone baked for me," she admitted, pulling apart the soft layers of her second roll. "These are dangerous."
"Good dangerous?" His voice came out rougher than intended.
She caught his expression, and something shifted in hers. Awareness crackled between them like electricity. "Very good dangerous."
By the time they'd covered all the technical details, half the pan was empty, and their coffees were done. Joy had a tiny smear of frosting at the corner of her mouth that Andre desperately wanted to kiss away.
"Ready to start?" She stood, gathering the papers.
"Ready." He stood too, catching her slight wince. She stood carefully, favoring her left foot for just a moment before straightening.
Andre gathered his equipment from the truck while his bear purred with satisfaction. She'd shared a meal with him. Let him into her space. The installation work ahead would be torture, being so close but unable to touch, but this moment—sunshine and sweetness and Joy—was worth it.
She took the camera from him, their fingers brushing. The contact lasted maybe two seconds. His bear counted eachmillisecond, cataloguing the softness of her skin against his, the way her breath caught almost imperceptibly.
Joy turned the camera over in her bandaged hands, studying every angle. Competent. Thorough. The kind of attention to detail that would keep her safe when he wasn't here.
When he wasn't here.His bear snarled at the thought.
"Where do we start?" she asked.
"The goat pen."
They walked together, and Andre noticed the careful way she placed her feet, avoiding the rougher ground. "Your feet?"
