Chapter Eleven
One week later, Jamie was back at Pawsome Pets. Try to keep him away from his furry friends. His bruises had healed. In a week. An unexpected benefit of the mate bond.
When Emma asked about his absence, he’d offered a vague explanation about personal matters requiring his attention.
She'd accepted this with surprising ease, simply expressing relief at having him back.
She remained blissfully unaware that Logan had been keeping watch over the shop during Jamie's recovery, ensuring that jerk hadn’t returned.
Cedar shavings crunched under Jamie's sneakers as he swept the rabbit enclosure, the rhythmic motion soothing after days of recovery.
Sunlight streamed through the front windows, painting golden stripes across the linoleum floor.
A parakeet trilled from its cage, the sound mixing with the gentle bubble of the aquarium filters.
“You missed the drama,” Emma said, emerging from behind the fish tanks with a net full of debris. “Mrs. Henderson's poodle ate an entire bag of training treats and barfed all over aisle three. Took me two hours to clean up.”
“Sounds delightful.” Jamie dumped the dustpan into the trash, nose wrinkling at the thought. “Did she at least apologize?”
“She bought three squeaky toys and tipped twenty bucks, so I’ll take it.”
Movement near the small mammal section caught Jamie's attention. Sloane crouched by the guinea pig habitat, his large frame somehow not looking ridiculous next to the tiny enclosure. One of the guinea pigs—Curly, Jamie thought—pressed its nose against the glass, whisking frantically.
“He's trying to make friends,” Emma observed, voice tinged with amusement. “It's adorable.”
Adorable wasn't the word Jamie would use. Endearing, maybe. His mate, who could transform into a predator, attempting to commune with prey animals? The irony wasn't lost on him.
Sloane extended one finger, tapping gently on the glass. The guinea pig wheeled and darted behind its hiding log, followed immediately by its two companions. All three huddled together, peering out with suspicious eyes.
“Great job,” Jamie called out. “You’ve terrified the potatoes.”
Sloane straightened, shooting him a look that managed to be both wounded and amused. “They’ll warm up to me.”
“Sure they will.” Jamie grabbed fresh bedding from the storage shelf. “Just like the hamsters did. And the rabbits. And literally every bird in the store.”
“The fish like me.”
“The fish can’t run away.”
Emma snorted, covering it with a cough when Sloane turned her way. She busied herself with the price gun, but her shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.
Despite his teasing, warmth bloomed behind Jamie's ribs as he watched Sloane navigate the store.
His mate had been here every shift since Jamie returned to work, a constant protective presence that should have felt suffocating but didn't. Maybe because Sloane didn't hover.
He helped where he could, stayed out of the way when needed, and only went into protective mode when customers got too aggressive.
Which, thankfully, hadn’t happened yet today.
“I’ll grab more bedding from the back,” Sloane said, brushing wood shavings from his jeans. “Running low out here.”
He disappeared through the storage room door, leaving Jamie and Emma alone with the animals. The familiar routine of changing water bottles and distributing food pellets settled over them, comfortable and normal.
The bell above the door chimed.
Jamie glanced up from the hamster habitat, his customer-service smile already forming. It died instantly.
The guy's boots struck the floor hard with each step. “Figured you'd have better customer service by now.”
Emma straightened behind the counter, recognition flashing across her face. “You need to leave. Right now.”
“I'm a paying customer.” He spread his arms wide, all false innocence. “Just want to see those snakes you were so protective of.”
Anger, hot and sudden, flooded through Jamie's system. This asshole had hurt Emma, had put his hands on her, and now he strutted back in like nothing had happened?
“Get out.” The words scraped past Jamie's throat, surprising him with their firmness.
The guy's attention swung to Jamie, and that sneer widened. “There he is. How’s the head, pretty boy? Still tender?”
“I said get out.”
“Or what?” The guy stepped closer, using his height advantage to loom. “You'll cry? Call the cops again? They didn't do shit last time.”
“That’s because you ran away,” Emma said.
From the back room came a sound that raised every hair on Jamie's arms. Not quite human, not quite animal. Pure threat wrapped in a rumble that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards.
Sloane emerged from the storage room like something out of a nightmare. Not shifted, still human, but every line of his body screamed predator. His eyes had gone flat and dangerous, locked on the guy with laser focus.
“You.” The word came out more growl than speech.
The guy's bravado cracked slightly, just a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. But he covered it with more aggression, squaring up like he was ready to fight. “And who the fuck are you?”
“The person who's going to remove you from this store.” Sloane moved forward with liquid grace, positioning himself between the guy and everyone else. “Permanently.”
“Big talk.” The guy's voice carried less confidence now, but he held his ground. “You think I'm scared of some pretty boy playing hero?”
Emma stepped out from behind the counter, tiny hands planted on her hips. “You're a bully. A sad, pathetic bully who gets off on scaring people smaller than you. You need to learn some humility and kindness.”
“Shut up, bitch.”
The words had barely left his mouth before Jamie was moving. “Don't talk to her like that!”
The guy laughed, ugly and mocking. “What are you gonna do about it?”
“He doesn't have to do anything.” Sloane’s voice had dropped to something deadly quiet. “Piss off. Don’t come near this store again. Don't come near them again. This is your only warning.”
“Fuck your warning.”
The man swung wild, telegraphing the punch so obviously that Jamie could have dodged it himself. But Sloane was already moving, flowing around the attacker like water.
The man's fist met empty air.
Sloane’s connected with his jaw.
The crack echoed through the store, sharp and final. The man's eyes rolled back, his body going limp. He dropped like someone had cut his strings, out cold before he even finished falling, a little drool already pooling under his slack mouth.
Silence descended, broken only by the bubbling of fish tanks and Emma's sharp intake of breath.
“Holy crap,” she whispered. “That was like something out of an action movie. Did you see how fast he dropped? Holy shit! You knocked him out cold!”
“Call Sheriff Owen,” Sloane interrupted, not even breathing hard. “Tell him we have trash that needs collecting.”
Jamie couldn’t look away from Sloane. Arousal hit him like a physical force, completely inappropriate for the situation but undeniable.
The controlled violence, the protective fury, the way Sloane had ended the threat without hesitation.
Everything about it made Jamie's pulse race for entirely different reasons than fear.
His mate. His protector. His.
Emma was already dialing, words tumbling over each other as she explained the situation to the sheriff. The man on the floor groaned but didn't move, probably going to have one hell of a headache when he woke up.
Good.
“Well,” Emma said after hanging up and staring down at the unconscious man with satisfaction. “He got what he deserved. What a meanie.”
Sloane’s gaze found Jamie's across the store, concern replacing the earlier fury. “You okay?”
Okay was relative. Jamie's hands shook slightly, adrenaline still coursing through his system. But underneath that was something else. Safety. Security. The bone-deep knowledge that Sloane would always stand between him and danger.
“Yeah,” Jamie said, meaning it. “I'm good.”
Better than good. He crossed to Sloane without conscious thought, drawn by that invisible tether between them. Up close, he could see the tension still thrumming through Sloane’s frame, the wolf not quite settled.
“Thank you,” Jamie murmured, low enough that only Sloane would hear.
“More than welcome.” Sloane’s hand found the small of Jamie's back, his touch grounding them both. “No one threatens you. Ever.”
The possessiveness should have been concerning. Instead, warmth bloomed in Jamie's stomach, spreading outward until his whole body felt flushed. This gorgeous, dangerous, protective man was his. Had chosen him. Would fight for him without hesitation.
“My hero,” Jamie said, only half-joking.
Some of the tension bled from Sloane’s frame. “He threatened you. Hurt you before. That's not happening again.”
Sloane’s hand found his hip, his thumb rubbing small circles through Jamie’s jeans.
Emma ended her call, bouncing on her toes with excess energy. “Sheriff's on his way. Should be here in ten.” She nudged the unconscious guy with her sneaker. “He got what he deserved. What a meanie.”
“Mean's one word for it,” Jamie agreed, though he was thinking several others.
The guy groaned, starting to stir. Sloane stepped forward, placing one boot firmly on his back. Not pressing down, just a reminder to stay put.
“Don't move,” Sloane advised. “The sheriff's coming to collect you.”
“Fuck…you…” the guy wheezed.
“Eloquent.” Emma crouched near his head, safely out of grabbing range. “You know what your problem is? You're a walking example of toxic masculinity. All that anger because Jamie wouldn’t let you manhandle a snake. It's really quite sad.”
Jamie bit back a laugh. Trust Emma to deliver a sociology lecture to a semiconscious criminal.
Minutes crawled by. The guy stayed down, apparently deciding that challenging the man who'd dropped him in two hits wasn't worth it. Sloane kept his boot in place, a silent threat that promised worse if he tried anything.
Finally, the bell chimed again, and Sheriff Owen filled the doorway. He took in the scene—unconscious troublemaker, Sloane standing guard, Emma still lecturing about emotional intelligence—and sighed.
“Same guy from last week?”
“Same guy,” Jamie confirmed.
“Came back looking for trouble?”
“Demanded to see the snakes again,” Emma piped up. “Called me a bitch. Took a swing at Sloane.”
Owen produced handcuffs. “Self-defense, then. I’ll need statements, but given his history and multiple witnesses.
..” He hauled the guy to his feet, slapping the cuffs on with practiced efficiency.
“You're under arrest for assault, trespassing, and criminal threatening. You have the right to remain silent...”
The guy's protests faded as Owen marched him outside. Through the window, Jamie watched him get stuffed into the back of the patrol car, still running his mouth, even though no one was listening.
“Well,” Emma said brightly, “that was exciting. Anyone want coffee? I need coffee. Or maybe something stronger. Is it too early for tequila?”
“It's ten in the morning,” Jamie pointed out.
“Right. Coffee it is.” She headed for the break room, still chattering. “Though, honestly, after all that adrenaline, tequila sounds really good...”
Her voice faded as she disappeared into the back. Jamie turned to find Sloane watching him, his expression soft in a way that made his knees weak.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Sloane pulled him closer, until their hips pressed together. “Just thinking about how brave you were. Standing up to him like that.”
Heat flooded Jamie's face. “I was terrified.”
“Still brave.” Sloane’s mouth found that spot below Jamie's ear that made rational thought impossible. “My brave mate.”
Goosebumps rippled across Jamie's skin. A week of being called mate and it still sent electricity through his system every time. The possessiveness should probably worry him more, but after William, after years of relationships built on control and jealousy, Sloane’s version felt like protection rather than prison.
“Aww…” Emma said softly. “You two are disgustingly cute. I'm getting cavities just watching.”
“Back to work,” Jamie said, but he was smiling. “Those guinea pigs won’t feed themselves.”
“Actually,” Emma said, “I think I’ll give you two a minute. Need to check something in the back. Very important. Definitely not just giving you privacy to make out.”
She disappeared through the storage room door with exaggerated stealth.
Alone except for the animals, Jamie turned in Sloane’s arms. His mate looked good here, surrounded by the chaos of the pet store. Like he belonged in Jamie's world just as much as Jamie was learning to belong in his.
“You know you don't have to stay here every shift,” Jamie said. “I'm okay now. Really.”
“I know.” Sloane’s thumb traced Jamie's cheekbone. “Maybe I like watching you work. Very attractive, the way you handle those hamsters.”
“Smooth talker.”
“Only with you.”
THE END