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And then they were gone, leaving me alone with him.

The shop felt different without buffers. Smaller. Like all the air had been sucked out with their departure. Just me and Tyson and enough sexual tension to power a small city.

I busied myself cleaning already clean surfaces. "So General Sparkles meets your approval? I can add more glitter if—"

"Duke called."

His voice had changed completely. Military Tyson in full effect—clipped, professional, zero-nonsense. The shift gave me whiplash.

"Oh?" I kept my tone carefully neutral while my insides twisted. Duke only called about serious shit.

"Got intel about potential trouble tonight." He moved closer, and I caught that shift in his body language. From prowling to protective. "I'm staying here as a precaution."

My response bypassed my brain entirely. "Should I stay too? It's my shop."

"Absolutely not."

The words cracked like a whip. Hard. Final.

My spine snapped straight, every stubborn bone in my body activating at once. "Excuse me?"

"You're leaving at normal time." He wasn't even looking at me, too busy checking window locks like I hadn't spoken.

"You can't just dismiss me." I slammed down my cleaning cloth, making him finally face me. "This is my business. My responsibility. My—"

"If something happens, I need to focus on the threat, not worry about you."

"I can handle myself," I said, but it came out weaker than intended.

"I know you can." He stepped closer, and God, why did he always smell so good? "But I need—"

He cut himself off, jaw clenching. When he continued, his voice was rougher. Lower. "I need to know you're safe. Away from here. Please."

I wanted to argue. Wanted to rage about being sidelined in my own shop. Wanted to plant myself behind the counter with my baseball bat and dare anyone to try something.

But his eyes . . . Christ, his eyes were doing that thing. That soft-hard combination that made my knees weak.

"Fine." The word tasted like defeat and something else. Something that felt dangerously like trust. "But if my shop gets fucked up because you were too proud to have backup—"

"I'll fix it."

Simple. Certain. Like he'd personally rebuild every wall if needed.

I realized I was standing too close. Close enough to see the gold flecks in his brown eyes. Close enough to catch the way his breathing had changed. Close enough to do something spectacularly stupid.

"I should get back to work," I said, not moving.

"You should," he agreed, not stepping back.

The air between us crackled with everything unsaid. Everything we couldn't say. Everything we both wanted but couldn't have.

Just then, it hit me.

My guitar case. He might discover my guitar case.

Chapter 5

Tyson