The next morning, Titus had gotten up bright and early to start working on the attic, clearing out debris and patching holes so the house would be rain and bird proof. Bree had gotten up with him, and after a quick breakfast, he got to work immediately.

If the work he’d done last night on her door had impressed her, then he couldn’t wait to do more so he could show his mate just what he was capable of.

Thankfully, all the nests he’d found in the attic appeared long empty, which meant he didn’t have to work on relocating any bird’s young to a tree outside. But it nevertheless created a lot of work, cleaning up the messes they’d made turning Bree’s attic into a roost.

As he moved around the space, watching his step to make sure he didn’t create a Titus-sized hole in the ceiling on top of the dozens of other repairs that were needed, he could hear Bree humming to herself as she played music in her studio.

He’d brought his tool belt, along with a variety of materials he might need to do the job. As much as he wanted to use his dragon powers to complete the job, he also knew if Bree happened to poke her head up into the attic, he would have a hard time explaining the mechanism whereby he was able to miraculously fix things without tools.

So a hammer and nails would have to do for now.

He just hated that every time he patched up a new spot, lining up the nails and driving them in with dragon-like precision, Bree’s humming stopped below him.

For an hour or so, he put things together, rearranging piles of torn-up and worn-out insulation, tossing the worst bits aside and making note of how much he’d need to buy so she could keep the place warm during the winter. He was in the middle of nailing a board into the wall to seal a small crack that finches or sparrows could get through, holding the spare nails in his mouth as he put them through one by one, when he heard a noise coming from outside.

He moved over to the small window that peeked out of the attic, rubbing his hand over the dirty glass so he could peer outside.

Down below, sauntering up the drive at a leisurely pace, was a short, middle-aged man with brown hair, slightly balding.

Certainly not the way he would expect an intruder to approach, in broad daylight no less.

Still, Titus could feel his protective instincts kicking in. Just the thought of any other person coming into Bree’s hallowed space made him feel on edge.

The man disappeared out of his view beneath him, and a second later, he heard the doorbell ring faintly.

It took an ample amount of Titus’s self-control to not leap down out of the attic, run for the door, and boot the man off Bree’s porch. But the last thing he needed to do was upset Bree in any way. Already, he was inserting himself into her life pretty aggressively. Last night had been a big stretch for her, letting Titus stay at the house and work, in exchange for a portrait of all things.

If he pushed too hard, she might put her foot down on the whole project. And that would be counterproductive to courting the woman he was certain was his mate (though it certainly couldn’t stop him from pursuing her entirely).

Besides, it was probably just a neighbor or something coming over to borrow a cup of sugar or whatever it was humans asked their neighbors for.

A second ring sounded, and he heard Bree get up from the stool, followed by walking as her steps grew gradually fainter, disappearing toward the bottom floor.

Titus took another nail from his mouth and knocked it into the board, distracting himself.

But even several floors away, he could vaguely hear the conversation happening on Bree’s porch.

And when he heard cordial talking change to louder, more angered sounds, Titus could wait no longer to intervene.

The nails dropped from his mouth, and he sprang for the opening into the attic, lowering himself quickly out of the hole and into her loft. He ran for the stairs, taking them three at a time but cushioning his steps so as to not shake the entire house or knock over her paintings.

When he reached the bottom floor, the front door in sight, he could make out Bree’s back, arms gesturing as she talked exasperatedly. Before her, Titus could vaguely make out the shape of the man he’d seen a moment ago. Only now, the easy carefreeness had been replaced by petulant vehemence.

“I keep seeing your dog out on my property, and I’ll have to do something about it,” the man threatened.

“Biff never goes across the road. He knows better. The only place he’ll go is to the edge of my fence,” Bree said, upset. Next to her, Biff stood erect, growling defensively.

The dragon inside Titus roared, wanting to kick the man bodily off his mate’s land. But that would no doubt intimidate or even scare Bree, and he didn’t need that.

So instead, he came up behind Bree, standing ominously, arms crossed.

“That’s bullshit. Why, just yesterday, I saw… uh,” the man said, sentence fading as his attention rose from Bree to Titus.

“Can I help you?” Titus asked, practically growling.

Bree jumped slightly, turning over her shoulder to look up at Titus, who she hadn’t even realized had been standing there.

“I… her dog,” the neighbor stammered.

“Do you have any proof of this apparent violation?” Titus glowered, unblinking, as he watched his prey. Titus wished he would give him an excuse to manhandle him.

“Well, no,” he said, deflating.

“Then I suggest you leave, seeing as how you’re trespassing now.”

It didn’t take more for the guy to get the hint, and he turned on his heel and quickly walked away, proverbial tail between his legs. And when he turned back to send one more menacing glance, Titus was watching, glaring right back at him.

Crisis averted.

However, when he looked down to Bree, it was clear his mate was still upset.

“What’s wrong?” Titus asked as the man reached the end of the drive and crossed the road, presumably back to where he’d come from.

“It’s just… my neighbors are so frustrating. I know Biff doesn’t cross the property line. I’ve watched him. He has enough free space to roam around just on my land. And it’s fenced off so he knows he’s not supposed to go over there. But still, these guys keep harassing me, threatening me,” she said, waving a hand in the direction the man had left.

Biff looked up a Titus innocently. He believed what she said.

“What kinds of threats?” Titus asked, instantly on alert at the thought that anyone was threatening Bree.

“Nothing serious,” she said with a beleaguered sigh. “It just gets on my nerves, though.”

Titus ushered her back into the house, closing the door behind her.

“Don’t answer the door alone, okay?” Titus insisted.

Bree just raised an eyebrow. “Always with the odd requests, given that you’re my hired contractor.”

“The safety of my client is my number-one priority, remember?”

“I guess so. Fine. Not that anything would happen anyway,” she said.

“Good, then that’s settled,” he said, following her as she headed upstairs, back to the loft, Biff close behind. “What were you working on anyway?”

She exhaled in slight frustration, looking over to the easel where her paint supplies and a white canvas were situated.

“It’s hard. I was hoping to get some painting done today, but it’s really difficult to work with the hammering going on. And I know it’s not your fault. I just hadn’t thought through the fact that getting my house fixed would involve some noise.”

Titus didn’t take it personally. Instead, he thought of a possible solution.

“How about this?” he proposed. “Given that you’re the homeowner, how would you like to learn a little about patching a ceiling?”

“Sure, why not? I’ll need to know how to do this after you’re gone anyway,” she said with a shrug.

Titus inwardly flinched at the exclamation but was undeterred.

Biff seemed to like the idea, and he gave out an excited woof.

“Sorry, Biff, but you can’t come. Too clumsy,” Titus said as he lowered the ladder into the attic, now sure it was reinforced and safe for use.

“What if I fall? Or mess something up?” she asked, looking unsure as Titus climbed up first.

He reached a hand down for her to grab as she ascended.

“You can trust me.”

* * *

“So when do you want me to start on your painting?” Bree asked when they were done with lunch and quietly relaxing. They’d eaten late in the afternoon after getting lots done working together.

It had been surprisingly peaceful working alongside him and only continued to build her trust in the mysterious man who’d come to help her.

Somehow, he’d known just what to do to make her stop thinking about the neighbor and all the other stresses that had appeared in her life and gotten her to just set her mind elsewhere.

The only problem with hanging out with him was she didn’t know where to put her eyes with such a handsome, sexy, huge guy around her.

She’d told him she’d have no problem staying professional, but the more he showed what a patient, nice man he was, the harder that seemed.

Weird.

“I don’t know,” he said. “We could do a session now. Take a break from hard labor.” He licked the tip of his thumb where some sauce from his sandwich had been, and she bit down on the inside of her cheek without thinking.

“Ouch.”

“You okay?” he asked, instantly concerned.

“I’m fine,” she said, feeling stupid. “Yeah, we could do a session now. I could use a break. Not that any labor is ‘hard labor’ for you. You make it all look so easy.”

“It’s what I was born for,” he said.

“Building things?”

“Fixing things. Protecting things. Being useful in general,” he said. “So what should I wear? I only brought a few work outfits with me.”

“Um, whatever you want,” she said. “I can also just make something up for you, if there’s something you’ve ever wanted to see yourself in.”

“Green,” he said. “I want you to paint me in all green. And on the shirt, I want it to say, ‘The best green dragon.’”

She gave him a puzzled, amused glance. “Excuse me?”

“Inside joke,” he murmured. “Well, what do you think I’d look good in?”

Anything, her heart said. Especially naked, some other part of her said.

Shame on you, she told herself, perving on him when he was doing so well at keeping his word and being professional.

She’d thought he was joking about women having a hard time falling for him, but he was right. Trying not to crush on a Viking with a heart of gold and serious handyman skills was pretty difficult.

She sighed.

“What is it?” he asked. “You aren’t still upset about that neighbor thing, are you? Because if he comes around again—”

“No, no,” she said, cutting him off. Oof, he was so protective, too. But she remembered she had to guard her heart. After all, the last guy who swept her off her feet, who made it seem as if he were solving all her problems… “Anyway, I’ll figure it out as I go.”

“Okay,” he said, helping her clear away the dishes and clean up lunch.

“You go change into your most form-fitting tee shirt,” she said. “Your tightest jeans. It’s best if I have a sense of your muscles to paint them.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “I can wear nothing.”

She snorted. “No. I already told you.”

“Hey, you were the one saying you needed to see my muscles.” He shrugged those giant, beautiful shoulders. “Not my fault.”

“I know,” she said, feeling a blush burn its way up her neck and into her cheeks. “Just get out of here.” She shoved on his back, pushing him out of the kitchen so she could calm down. “Go change.”

“Rude,” he said flatly, but then he jogged up the stairs, leaving her alone in the kitchen.

She took and released a deep breath, wondering how she was ever going to manage to paint him when it seemed hard to breathe every time she looked at him.

When she’d agreed to paint his portrait, she hadn’t thought she’d be this affected by him, as if every minute in his presence made her less immune to his considerable charms.

She’d never had a problem painting a subject before, but she’d never met someone like Titus.

Someone strong and dependable, who Biff liked, and who really was only here to work on her house and for no other reason at all.

Well, she’d just have to do her best, she thought, rolling up her sleeves and heading upstairs to put on an apron and wait for her subject.