At the end of the day, Bree sat at the table, sorting through bills and wondering if there was any way to delay things and squeeze out a bit more money to hire a contractor. She was just about ready to give up when she heard a knock on the door.

Immediately, a chill ran up her back. She’d told Geoffrey to leave her alone. It also could be that creepy neighbor who lived in that house across the road who kept coming over to complain about her dog.

Even if it just felt like an excuse to harass her when he really had no reason to.

She had purposefully moved onto a five-acre lot in the middle of nowhere so she could actually have space.

She stood up from the table and grabbed the bat she kept by the coat stand in the hallway, hefting it up to meet whoever her uninvited visitor was.

Because really, who came knocking this late in the evening?

She crept to the side of the hallway, wishing she had a keyhole, when she heard another knock thump, this time along with a creaking noise and the sound of cracking…

With a small yelp, she jumped back as the door came crashing forward but was caught in someone’s hand before it could land. Caught in someone’s very large hand.

Whoever it was pulled the door out and tossed it behind them and then came back to look in through the doorway.

The figure was tall, male, and had a very long braid. And Viking eyes.

She gaped up at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you okay?” he asked, matter-of-fact, stepping into her house uninvited.

She was sitting on her butt, having tripped and landed on it in her haste to escape the door, and he put out a hand, which she begrudgingly accepted.

When she was standing in front of him, wiping her hands on her jeans, she looked past him to the empty doorway where she’d once had a door.

“I’ll fix it,” he said as they both heard the skittering of paws down the hallway.

Oh no. Not now, Biff.

She looked back to see her giant Great Dane skittering down the hallway, huge tongue lolling out of his mouth. As always, he lost purchase on the hardwood and began to skid toward them, paws sliding out of control.

The Viking acted quickly, stepping in front of her and shielding her from the hit as Biff ran into his legs with an arf. The dopey dog stared up at him in confusion, then began to lick his leg.

“Down,” her visitor said in a commanding voice, and to her surprise, the dog sat, tongue still hanging out. “He’s not so bad.” He looked around the house. “First thing we need to do is get some rugs in here. After I fix the door, I mean.”

“Rugs?”

“Yes,” he said. “So this guy can have traction and not slip all over the place.”

She wanted to tell him Biff would fall even with rugs, per his name, but she avoided it.

She hadn’t hired him or his company, so what was he doing here anyway?

“I know, I know,” he said, putting up his hands in defense. “You didn’t hire us. I have no real right to be here. But I was curious about the house. I had to see if it lived up to the pictures.”

She folded her arms, raising an eyebrow. “And?”

“It does,” he said with a laugh, looking around him. “I absolutely in good conscience cannot let you live here without someone fixing it up.”

“And how am I going to do that when I can’t afford it?”

“I had some ideas,” he said, walking forward and extending a hand. “Titus, by the way.”

She hesitantly took his hand, trusting him more with every passing moment. After all, he couldn’t be so bad if Biff liked him. And so far, he really did only seem interested in the house. Not all men used women’s dependence on them to control them it seemed.

“Can I look around?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Sure.”

They headed toward the winding, spiral staircase that led up to the second floor. “Interesting,” he said.

“It’s one of a kind,” she said, looking around her as she followed him up the staircase. He moved gingerly at first, then more confidently as he realized the house was stronger than it looked.

Except for the door, obviously.

When they were on the second floor, he looked around. It was a large loft, and she’d set up a studio there. Her canvases were assembled on easels around the space, and paints and brushes were spread over every surface.

“You’re an artist?” he asked, intrigued.

“Yes,” she said. “Here, let me show you the attic. And my biggest problem.” She walked to a ladder that led up to a trapdoor and climbed up to grab at the latch. She was shocked when she felt a hefty arm wrap around her and lift her gently off the ladder and set her on the ground.

He walked to the ladder and just reached up, easily opening the hatch, and jumped to grab the edges of it to pull himself up inside.

Not only had he lifted her as if he were removing a flea from a dog, but he was some kind of gymnast.

All those muscles, how was he so deft?

“Just because I’m small, it doesn’t mean you can push me around like that,” she said.

“I didn’t want you on that ladder,” he said. “And with what I scented up here, I didn’t want you up here either.”

“It’s not your house,” she muttered. It was oddly nice to have someone be protective again, but her warning bells went off, telling her not to trust men. In her experience, they always had ulterior motives.

“Hm,” he said. “Looks like you’ve got birds making nests up here. Big ones by the look of it.” She heard his heavy footsteps move and the wood creaking ominously. “There are some substantial holes where they’re coming in. I can see your temporary patches, but you’re gonna want real ones before long, or your paintings are going to get rained on.”

She sighed. “I know. But that costs money.”

“Not necessarily,” he said, hefting himself down from the attic and landing on the floor with a huff.

Biff had come up the stairs behind her and was sitting obediently, watching their new visitor like he was the best thing since bacon.

“So what do you mean, then?” she asked as he observed the rest of the rooms and then came back to her paintings, walking around and looking at each one.

“You could do a painting for me,” he said, cocking his head so his braid swung to the side, and she marveled at the thick length of it. There had to be a story there.

“What would you want painted?”

He pursed his full, carved-with-a-perfect-dent-at-the-top lips. “I don’t know yet. I’ll have to think about it.”

“I don’t really feel like a painting is equal to this much work. There has to be a catch somewhere.” She folded her arms over her chest. “And if you’re thinking of getting your payment some other way… think again.”

She felt blood rush into her neck, heating her, as she watched him slowly grasp her meaning.

His eyes gradually widened in anger, and she didn’t think someone could fake the truly horrified reaction he displayed. “You mean men typically expect that kind of exchange—”

She shook her head. “I’m not saying always, but I am saying that as a single woman, you have to be careful of men who want to help you who might have strings attached.”

His icy-blue eyes were cold now, a frozen lake covered by storm clouds. “I would never use a woman in such a disgraceful way.”

She nodded, sighing in relief. Perhaps he wasn’t like the others. And what choice did she have? Not only were her paintings going to be ruined, but sooner or later, Geoffrey would show up with his inspector or whatever. She groaned. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“I promise no strings,” he said, suddenly seeming to think of something. “And hey, it’s my first job. You can give me a good review.”

Her jaw dropped. “Wait, your first job?”

He nodded. “But you saw a lot of my work on the mansion. I renovated a good deal of the place.”

“But are you going to mess it up?” she asked, now realizing maybe it was too good to be true after all. “And why are you helping me? Aren’t there other jobs you could take if you needed a review?”

“I guess you just touched me,” he said. “Because you needed help. And this is what I do.”

She exhaled slowly, unsure whether to keep up with suspicion or go with the only option she had, no matter how oddly fortuitous it seemed. “I guess you can start with the door, since that needs to be done tonight. And then we can talk.”

“Right,” he said. “Then we can talk.”

“I’ll make some dinner, if you’re hungry,” she said.

“I’d love that,” he replied, heading down the stairs ahead of her. She still wasn’t used to him taking charge in her own house, but it just seemed to be his way.

And far be it from her to get in the way of a Viking.

* * *

Titus smiled as he fixed the door to his mate’s house.

It wasn’t bad wood, but the hinges were old and rusty, made of cheap metal that quickly corroded.

He would use far superior metal this time.

It was getting dark outside, but he could work fine in the light on her porch. And besides, he couldn’t think of anything more pleasing than helping his mate.

She couldn’t go without a door.

Now that he thought about it, looking out across all the open, barren land, with only a few houses within viewing distance, he didn’t like the idea of leaving her out here alone at all.

How had the other dragons managed to leave their mates, even for a night, once they’d found them?

They all managed to work their way in eventually, but Titus couldn’t wait, not with his protective instincts.

He could already tell she was warming up to him. Some of that was her dog, which made sense. Animals tended to have a good sense about humans.

Which was why Titus didn’t see it as a good sign that Biff liked to run out to the edge of the property and pace warily, acting as if he were looking for someone to chase away.

It made him think someone had come who wasn’t welcome, and the thought made him narrow his eyes.

No. He wouldn’t be leaving his mate.

He waved his hand over the edge of the door, generating pure titanium and bending it into a hinge, pulling it this way and that until the shape was right. Then he softly heated it, extended a claw to cut it, rejoined it so it bent easily, and fastened it back onto the door.

He did the same with the bottom hinge, and when he was satisfied, he stood the door up and looked over it.

The wood was a little damaged by wind, not properly treated, and there was some mold.

As the titanium dragon, he was able to use his powers to resist corrosion and also restore materials that were damaged, so he ran his hands over the thick wood, sensing and pulling anything tainted from within and releasing it into the wind to be swept away by nature.

The wood looked brighter, shinier. Tomorrow, he would varnish it. But for now, it was ready to put back in the doorway, after he worked on attaching the hinges there.

A few minutes later, he was done and stepped back to survey his work with satisfaction.

Easy.

He opened it, testing the handle, then came inside and shut it, making sure it operated smoothly.

“That’s amazing,” she said, coming up behind him unexpectedly. He took a second to inhale her scent. Chocolate and spices. Amazing.

“I just have to do the lock,” he said.

“The bathroom’s down the hall,” she answered quietly. “You can go in there and wash up when you’re done, and dinner should be ready by then. I’ll just be in the kitchen.”

Dinner. He was going to have dinner with his mate.

It sounded too good to be true, but it wasn’t.

He waited until she was gone, and then produced metal in his hands and started to mold it. He worked for several moments, sculpting pieces with his bare hands and then assembling them without the need of a hammer. Then he stood back to admire his work.

There was a heavy deadbolt she could slide to prevent intruders, and on one side of it was a little bit of customization he’d added.

Just to make his mark clear on the place.

She poked her head out of the kitchen, and he turned to face her. Her eyes focused in on the lock, and she walked out into the hallway to examine it. “Oh my gosh, it’s a little dragon, isn’t it?” she asked. “Did you make it?”

“Why?” he asked. “Do you like it?”

She nodded. “I mean, it’s a little eccentric, but—” She shook her head, smiling. “I love it. Wow, the door looks totally new. I’m really lucky to have you, aren’t I?”

He wished she were talking about having him as a mate and not as a handyman, but he’d take what he could get.

He hoped she painted a lot during the day, because if she watched him, he was going to have to pretend to need a hammer or other tools, and that would only slow him.

“So,” she said, sitting down across from him with her hands folded. “How long do you think it’ll take to do the place?”

He looked up in the direction of the roof and then at the bowl of soup in front of him, next to a cheese sandwich. “I don’t know.” He took a bite of each and was surprised by the taste. Maybe food was more satisfying across from a beautiful woman who was also your mate.

“You seem distracted,” she said. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he said. “But I was thinking of something I wanted to add into our bargain, and I’m not sure how you’ll take it.”

“Okay,” she said, taking a bite of her sandwich. “I’m listening.”

He leaned back in his chair, bracing himself. “I want to stay here while I’m working on this place.”

Her sandwich dropped out of her hands. “What?”

He loved the look of her reddish-blond hair in the kitchen light, the way her full lips gaped at him. Then he remembered he should probably clarify. “While I’m doing repairs, this place really isn’t safe or secure. I should probably stay here.”

She shifted uncomfortably, and he tried to avert his gaze from her soft cleavage that was displayed in the light-pink sweater she wore. “I don’t know,” she said. “That’s not really normal, right?”

“There are holes in your roof,” he said frankly. “And I have no idea what state your back door is in, not to mention your windows. Plus, you always have a worried look on your face. And when I knocked on the door, you came over with a bat. Then there’s the fact that your dog paces the edge of your property like he’s guarding you from something. All of that comes together to make me think that if I leave, my client won’t be safe.”

She pursed her pink lips together, her beautiful turquoise eyes avoiding his gaze. “I don’t know that it’s your problem,” she said.

“Of course it is,” he said. “Something happens to my client, I have no client. Plus, no review and no portrait.”

“No what?”

“I decided what I wanted you to paint,” he said smugly. “My portrait.” He’d had a good laugh thinking about it hanging in the foyer, disturbing Aegis. Plus, if she was painting him, she’d have to spend time with him. Observing his manly assets.

Her jaw was hanging open again. An interesting habit. He kind of liked how plainly every emotion showed on her face.

“I… You want me to paint you?”

“Yes,” he said.

“You better not mean naked,” she said.

“No,” he said, brows coming down. What the hell kind of men had she been dealing with? “Of course not. Just like your other portraits.”

She sighed in relief, brushing back her shoulder-length hair. It had soft, loose curls he was dying to touch. “I see. Yes, I can do that.”

“Good,” he said. “We’re all set. As long as you let me stay here.”

“I really can’t,” she said. “I mean, I get your concerns, but what kind of woman would I be if I let a man I’ve only just met stay in my home with me?”

“A smart one,” he said. “If it’s me.”

She laughed and her face flushed prettily. “You’re very confident, aren’t you?”

“Aegis would say cocksure,” Titus said. “But yes, I know my abilities. I know I would never take advantage of a human female. It would be beneath me.”

“You have an odd way of talking sometimes,” she said, resting her cheek on her hand and picking up her sandwich to take a bite. She chewed thoughtfully, as if considering her options.

“Look, I know someone is after you. It’s why you’re desperate to get things done. And I saw that you were… crying when you left the other day,” he said. He hated to bring it up, but he’d use whatever truth necessary to get her to let him stay.

He knew she wouldn’t regret it.

“I promise you, dragon’s honor, that I will not touch you unless you ask me for it.”

She raised a blondish-red eyebrow. “Ask you for it?” She laughed. “Not a problem.”

He folded his arms, perturbed. “Women do have a problem with falling in love with me. I suppose you will have to try extra hard not to.”

“Why?” she asked. “The Viking hair? The dragon obsession?”

He cocked his head with a grin. “I have a lot to offer. I’m an excellent warrior, a capable protector, and I can fix just about anything.”

Her grin dropped and her expression grew thoughtful.

“I also will never make a move on you, so if you want us to stay separate, then as I said, just try not to fall in love with me.”

She nodded slowly, as if in some kind of haze. Then she shook her head and seemed to clear her thoughts. She tucked her soft, luscious hair behind her ears as her eyes scanned over his muscles again. “Fine,” she said. “That’ll be easy.”

He nodded, not believing it for a second. Not with the way she kept sneaking looks at him, squirming slightly in her chair from time to time. “So I can stay?”

“I suppose,” she said. “You gave your word, and you seem like the type I can trust. Plus, you’re right. I have no other options…” She looked at Biff. “But I’ll have this guy in my room, so you better not try anything.”

“I promise,” he said.

She nodded. “Dragon’s honor, or whatever you said?”

“Dragon’s honor,” he said.

She didn’t need to know that didn’t really exist. His was the only dragon’s honor she needed to worry about, and it was unimpeachable where women were concerned.

And no other dragon better dare bother them.

“All right,” she said. “I believe you. After dinner, I’ll show you your room.”