Page 64 of The Alpha's Runaway Mate
His mouth twitches. “You’ll see.”
We drift through farmland. The air smells like hay and clean dirt. A red barn and a white farmhouse sit in a green bowl of field.
“Where is this?”
“Friend’s place. We’re making a stop.”
The barn door rolls. An older man steps out. Broad. Weathered. Kind eyes. “Didn’t expect you today.”
“Plans changed,” Nolan says.
The man looks at me and nods. “Jessica. Good to meet you. Come on. I’ve got something for you.”
The barn smells like sun and wood. Dust spins in the light. We pass a row of stalls and stop at a smaller pen.
A giant white dog lifts her head from a thick blanket. She stands and pads toward the gate, tail low, eyes steady. Snow-pale fur with a tan kiss on one ear.
“She’s beautiful,” I whisper.
“Great Pyrenees,” the man says. “Name’s Daisy. Just turned one. Gentle. Smart. Fully trained to guard. Raised around stock. She won’t hurt what’s hers. If danger comes close, she plants and holds that line.”
I look at Nolan. “Trained to guard.”
His voice drops. “She is a protector. She watches what is hers. She does not back down.”
“You got her for me.”
“I got her for us,” he says, eyes on mine. “You’ve had enough fear. I cannot be everywhere every second. She can. No one gets near you or the cabin without meeting her teeth.”
My throat burns. “Nolan…”
“Let her meet you.”
The man unlatches the pen. I kneel and hold out my hand. Daisy sniffs once and presses her head into my palm like we’ve always known each other. My chest loosens.
“Looks like she picked you,” the man says, smiling. “I’m Hank.”
Nolan crouches beside me, palm steady on Daisy’s back. “She knows who needs her.”
“You didn’t have to do this,” I say.
“Yeah,” he answers, thumb brushing my cheek. “I did.”
“She’s perfect.”
“So are you.”
Hank brings a leash and a folder. “Shots up to date. Knows her commands. Give her room to run and a job to do.”
“She has one,” Nolan says.
On the way to the truck, Daisy walks pressed to my leg like she’s already on duty. The weight of the day shifts. Not gone. Different.
By the time we reach home, the sun slips behind the ridge. Daisy circles the porch, nose down, tail a slow tick, then lifts her head and stares into the trees.
“She’s already checking the perimeter,” Nolan says, pleased.
“Guess she clocked in.”
