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“So is staying alone in a broken cabin while somebody stalks you through the woods.”

She exhales sharply through her nose, frustrated and cornered and very aware that I’m not backing down.

Good.

Because I’m not.

“Temporary,” she says finally.

“For now.”

Her eyes narrow instantly. “That sounded suspicious.”

“I’m a suspicious guy.”

She mutters something under her breath that sounds a lot like unbelievable asshole before crouching beside an overturned duffel bag.

I watch her pack.

Not because I don’t trust her.

Because I do.

That’s the problem.

Every second I spend around this woman, something settles deeper under my skin. Instinct. Possession. Responsibility.

Mine to protect.

The realization should bother me more than it does.

Nora shoves clothes angrily into the bag before looking up suddenly. “You’re staring.”

“Yeah.”

“You always this intense?”

“Only when it matters.”

That shuts her up for a second.

She looks away first.

Again.

Interesting.

I move through the cabin while she packs, checking windows, footprints outside, anything useful. Near the back porch, I spot fresh boot prints leading toward the woods.

Large.

Male.

Purposeful.

Not hiding them.

That tells me everything I need to know.