Page 62 of Bulletproof Weeks

“We don’t need that.”

Sarah spun around. “Really? What exactly would you call that action the other night? The actions of a woman just leaving love letters? She threatened to kill you, Bella. Murder, death, kill. End your life. Do you think she’s going to do it with frills and cotton candy or something? Or maybe a paper cut with that pretty card stock she likes?”

Isabella’s face went white.

“Miss Webster,” Logan admonished.

“No, both of you need to hear this. Could that little deer stunt just be a stunt? Sure. Absolutely.” She stalked into the middle of the kitchen. “But just who do you think she—unless of course you have more than one person that wants to see your little girlfriend hurt or scared—has hired to do that? A huge buck hunted down and killed, off-season mind you, then strung up on the edge of a very well-lit, very secure property during a widely publicized coyote watch warning?”

Logan stood up taller, straightening his shoulders.

“Don’t posture at me, I’ve worked with men that have seen years of combat and training. Whatever alpha dog you think you might be, you might want to re-assess that delusional idea. I’m here to do a job. Will that job require me to use my gun? I sure hope not. But I’m not going to stay out here in the middle of nowhere without some protection.”

Unsure what else to do, Logan nodded.

“Good. Now, I’m going back up to sleep a few more hours.” She brushed by Izzy and disappeared.

Logan crossed to Izzy but she scooted by him and went to the living room. He tipped his head back with a sigh. Not exactly the welcome home he was envisioning. “Izzy.”

She turned around with wide eyes, her lower lip trembling. “I’ve been living here because you asked me to. To be safe. And I haven’t minded—mostly. I miss my apartment, but I like having your stuff around me when you’re gone.”

Logan crowded in on her, gripping her hands. “Babe. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“That’s not it. I’m here away from people, my friends…I can work up here, sure. But I’m here all alone while you’re out there living like there’s no difference.” She pulled away from him and moved to the fireplace.

Helpless, he tucked his hands under his arms. “Do you want to go back into town? Sarah can stay with you—”

“I feel like I’m living at home again, Logan. Don’t go there, Isabella. Don’t associate with those people, Isabella. You must act with decorum, Isabella. What would people think, Isabella?” She turned and walked toward him. “People don’t understand what this is in town. All they see is me going up here and you’re not home. Like I’m some kept woman.”

“God, no.”

“Why would they think different? I know we can’t talk about it because heaven fucking forbid a reporter figure out that we’re dating—or whatever the fuck this is. Can’t let that dirty little secret out.”

“It’s just for your safet—”

“Yeah, my safety. Lock her up at the King cabin and take her down off the shelf when you can come back into town. Then I get played with, romanced a little, the occasional present to appease me.”

The slap of her anger knocked him back a step. “I thought we were doing okay. You’re not my mistress, Izzy. When did I ever treat you like you were?”

“You don’t, Logan.” She moved toward him and laid a shaking hand on his forearm. “But some days I feel like it. Intellectually, I get it. Taking precautions means we can be together, but no one knows about me. I can’t really talk about us either. How can I be the happiest I’ve ever been and still be miserable?”

His chest ached and his bones felt frozen even with the early morning sun shining behind her. “I can’t let you get hurt. Not because of me.”

“She has to know about me now.”

“How can she know it’s you? Maybe she would just think it was someone staying at my place.” Just the thought of Aimee knowing Izzy was here, alone, was enough to make his gut seize.

“How can she think it’s anyone other than me?”

“Because I never say your name. Ever.”

Her eyes went huge. “Ever?”

Every time they video chatted, or texted, or emailed…they were his. He didn’t share them with anyone. He had to share enough of his life with the world. This was just his. And if no one else knew, then it couldn’t get out there. Just the slightest wrong mention could ruin everything.

He captured her hand on his arm and urged her to sit on the couch. “Just a little bit longer, Iz.”

“Until when? The festival’s coming. Am I supposed to pretend you’re not mine? Am I not allowed to touch you in the place I call home? That way no one would know that we’re a couple since I spend all my time up here.” She crossed her arms over her middle.

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