"Of course." Andre helped her wrap the injured kid in old towels, creating a soft bundle to keep the wound protected. Joy started her truck, and Andre climbed into the passenger seat, carefully cradling the injured kid against his chest. The small goat bleated weakly, and Andre's hand moved to stroke its head, his voice dropping to a soothing murmur.
As she navigated the ranch roads toward town, Joy's hands gripped the wheel. Her mind raced through everything that needed doing. Call the vet. Install security. Fix the gate. Check Clementine again. The list felt endless.
"The cameras," she said suddenly. "Can you install them today? This afternoon?"
Andre looked at her, his hand still gentle on the injured goat. "You need sleep first. Let me take care of those scratches on your hands."
She looked at her hands. "It’s nothing… I need to know this won't happen again." Her voice cracked. "I can't go through another night like this. I can't lose them."
"Okay." His voice was steady, reassuring. "I'll grab the equipment from the station and meet you back at the farm this afternoon.”
"You were right." The admission scraped her throat raw. "About the security. I was wrong to wait."
The words hung between them as she drove, the injured kid's soft bleating the only sound. Dawn gave way to full morning, the world waking up around them. Normal people were starting normal days, while she sat here with blood on her hands and her heart still racing from what could have been lost.
In her peripheral vision, she watched Andre's gentle hands steady the injured goat. The same hands that had freed Clementine from the mud, that had worked beside her through the darkest hours of the night. Her mountain lion purred, recognizing something in him that her human side wasn't ready to name.
Chapter
Eight
Andre pulledinto Joy's driveway at three o'clock sharp, his patrol vehicle loaded with security equipment and something else—a sturdy plastic container with a secure lid on the passenger seat beside a drink carrier from Sweet Summit Café. The sweet scent of cinnamon and warm frosting filled the cab, making his bear rumble with nervous anticipation. He'd been up since noon, baking like his life depended on it.
Through the windshield, he watched her front door. His hands trembled. Not from caffeine or lack of sleep, though he'd barely managed four hours. No, this was pure anticipation. Need. The memory of her last night—fierce and determined despite scratched hands and exhaustion—had played on repeat in his mind.
The door opened. Joy emerged, and his bear surged so hard he had to lock his muscles to stay seated.
She'd changed into clean jeans that hugged her curves and a soft blue flannel that brought out flecks of gold in her brown eyes. Her hair was still damp from a shower, curling slightly at the ends.
Andre climbed out, balancing the container in one hand and the coffee carrier in the other while trying to grab his equipment checklist. Her eyes tracked to the container, curiosity flickering across her face.
"Thought you might need an afternoon pick-me-up." He held up his offerings, feeling suddenly unsure. "Coffee from Sweet Summit and... I made cinnamon rolls."
Something shifted in her expression—surprise melting into something softer. "You baked? This morning? After last night?"
"Couldn't sleep past noon anyway." He shifted the container to one arm, suddenly aware of how domestic this felt.
"That's..." She seemed to search for words. "Really thoughtful. Why don't we go over everything at my picnic table?" She gestured toward a weathered table beside her tiny house.
Joy led the way, and he followed, trying not to notice how her careful gait favored her left foot. She sat on one side of the table while he took the other, spreading out his installation checklist and tablet between them. He set the coffee carrier to one side and placed the container in the middle.
"I should probably grab plates—" Joy started to rise.
"Already thought of that." Andre pulled napkins, plastic forks, and paper plates from a cloth shopping bag, feeling like an overprepared idiot.
He popped the lid off the container, releasing the concentrated scent of cinnamon and warm frosting. Joy's eyes widened at the sight of perfectly spiraled rolls nestled inside.
"These look good,” she purred.
"I'd actually started the dough last night before... everything. Seemed a shame to waste it."
Joy paused with her hand hovering over the container. "Before everything? So that was before you were stalking my property at two in the morning?"
Heat flooded his face. His bear cringed. "I wasn't stalking. I was doing a routine patrol?—"
"At two forty-seven AM. On my property. Without permission." She took a deliberate bite of the cinnamon roll, watching him squirm. "That's the definition of stalking, Andre."
"I was worried. After our coffee meeting, after seeing those tampered hives..." He trailed off, knowing how weak it sounded.
