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“You can do that,” Bishop says.

“Me and patience aren’t exactly friends,” I say wryly.

“You can,” Laken says firmly. “You have to.”

“Everything changed the second I saw her,” I admit. “I don’t know how to act.”

“Just be you,” Penny encourages.

“Yeah, that never works so well for me.”

“Bullshit,” Laken spits. “You broke through to me. You can do the same with her.”

“She will love you, just like we do,” Penny says.

“Well, not exactly the same.” Laken cringes.

“Fuck, I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I groan. “I’m going to take her to my place.”

“She may not be comfortable with that,” Penny says hesitantly.

I ignore her and gather Saylor in my arms. Her arms automatically reach for my shoulders, and she snuggles in.

“I have to agree with Penny,” Bishop says as they stand with me.

“Does it look like she wants to run away from me?” I snap.

“Well, she is asleep,” Laken says.

“Fuck off,” I growl.

“I hope you know what you are doing,” Laken warns.

“I have no fucking clue.” I walk to the door with my mate. “All I know is this…I will keep her with me. I will find out who she is running from. I will learn everything about her. Then I will take care of the ones who put fear and sadness in her eyes. She will never have to run again.”

I hold tight to the woman in my arms as I make my way to my house. I’m not delusional. I know after Saylor gets some rest, she will come at me fighting. I am guessing she hasn’t been able to rely on many people, so gaining her trust may be difficult. Finding her hiding in the woods doesn’t scream loving family and friends.

The trouble I wanted was soft and pliant against me.

Like I said, I love trouble.

Chapter Five

Saylor

My skin is burning. A thin sheet is covering me. My legs are bare. I smell my mate all around me. It’s covering the bed I’m in. I turn my head and take in the wild scent that saturates it. I feel him close, but he’s not in the room with me.

I open my eyes and see the room I’m in for the first time. The walls are dark wood, and the one window in the room lets the sunshine in, but the whole room is nothing but dark colors. The bed is large and takes up much of the room. Two bedside tables are on either side, holding a single lamp on each. The one on my right has change, wrappers, and a watch scattered upon it.

The only chair in the room is under the window; it’s dark brown, old, and comfortable-looking. A well-used cowboy hat is sitting on the seat. There is a stack of books beside it on the floor. The dresser is covered in cowboy hats, most of them a variation of black and brown.

There's another door that I see the glare of a shower door through. The bed is made out of sturdy wood and covered in blankets that are shoved to the foot of it.

I should be freaking out.

I should be demanding why he thought he had the right to take off my pants.

Why am I not?