Jamie opened his mouth, probably to argue, then closed it again. His lips pursed like he was giving it heavy thought, and then he nodded. “Okay.”
“When’s your shift end?”
“Six.”
Four hours. Sloane could manage four hours of controlled restraint. Probably.
He could manage four hours of being near his mate. Definitely. It would give him a chance to watch his mate in his natural habitat.
He’s not a wild animal.
“I’ll be here.” He pulled over a stool from behind the counter, settling onto it within arm’s reach of Jamie. Close enough to intervene if needed. Close enough to provide protection. If he thought he could get away with it, close enough to pulled Jamie into his lap and pepper him with kisses.
Emma sneaked glances at him while she worked, trying and failing to hide a smile.
Jamie had to have talked about him. Emma knew something, recognized something, saw whatever thing existed between them even if Jamie hadn’t named it yet.
Good. Let her see. Let everyone see that Jamie had someone now. Someone who’d burn the world down before letting him get hurt again.
Mine.
The word echoed through Sloane’s skull like a drumbeat, primal and absolute.
His mate.
His responsibility.
His to protect.
And heaven help anyone who tried to hurt him again.
Chapter Six
Sloane entered the apartment after Jamie, glad he hadn’t needed an excuse to come upstairs this time. Inside, the apartment smelled faintly of coffee and something vanilla—candles, maybe, or air freshener. Sounds drifted from deeper inside, the clatter of dishes, running water, someone humming off-key.
“Nick’s home,” Jamie said, toeing off his shoes by the door. “Fair warning, he’s going to interrogate you.”
Before Sloane could respond, a guy emerged from the kitchen, dish towel slung over one shoulder. Shorter than Jamie, maybe five-two, with bleached tips in his dark hair and a smile that could sell used cars. His tank top showed off lean arms, and his jeans sat low on narrow hips.
“Oh my god, you brought him home!” Nick’s gaze swept over Sloane, assessing him with the speed of someone who’d clocked plenty of dates. “I’m Nick. Jamie’s told me literally nothing about you, which means you’re important.”
“Sloane.” He offered his hand, and Nick shook it with surprising firmness.
“How’s the head?” Nick’s attention shifted to Jamie, concern replacing the playful energy. “You look terrible. Did the cops catch the guy?”
“Not yet.” Jamie dropped onto the couch, wincing when he moved too fast. “Owen took our statements. Said he’d patrol the area.”
“You should’ve called me. I would’ve left work early.” Nick perched on the armrest, fingers hovering near Jamie’s bruised temple without quite touching. “You need ice? Tylenol? A hug and some wine?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You got assaulted.” Nick’s voice went tight. “That’s the second time this week someone’s put hands on you. I warned you about William.”
Sloane’s attention snapped to Jamie. Who the fuck was William? That must’ve been the guy who’d hurt Jamie’s arm. Sloane filed it away as his wolf snarled, clawing at his ribs.
“Can we not do this right now?” Jamie asked.
“We’re doing it later then.” Nick stood, crossing his arms. “You can’t keep pretending everything’s okay when it’s not.”
