Page 7 of Stitch & Steel

Seven

BELLA

I burned the toast.

Not on purpose, but the timing felt symbolic.

Logan had only been in the cabin one full night, and already the air felt too thick. Too charged. Like the whole place had inhaled him and wasn’t sure what to do now that he wasn’t leaving.

Gran was delighted. She’d called him “mountain-hardened and honey-muscled,” then asked if he needed more eggs. I nearly choked on my coffee.

Now, I stood at the stove in yesterday’s flannel, barefoot, with Logan pacing in the hallway like he owned the place.

I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t... complicated.

Because on one hand, I still didn’t know him. Not really. A fishing trip and some porch banter didn’t exactly make us soulmates.

But on the other hand?

He’d shown up. With a duffel bag and a machete and this unspoken vow that no one— no one —was going to touch us while he was around.

The protectiveness should’ve scared me. It didn’t.

It turned me on in ways I really didn’t want to admit.

Especially when he walked into the kitchen like he hadn’t just moved into my whole damn life.

“Toast’s a little dark,” he said, eyeing the tray.

“Thanks, Gordon Ramsay.”

He smirked, took a piece anyway, and leaned against the counter. Shirtless. Of course. Toned chest, tattoos, damp hair from a shower that left the whole house smelling like cedar and sin.

“Want me to make you something?” I asked, fidgeting with the dishtowel.

“You don’t have to wait on me.”

“I’m not. I’m distracting myself from the fact that you’re here. Half-naked. Eating my bad toast.”

His smirk deepened. “I can put on a shirt.”

“Would it help?”

“Nope.”

I groaned and turned away, but Gran shuffled in right on cue, setting her grocery list on the table.

“Don’t let her fool you,” she said. “She used to draw little hearts on her notebooks for boys with sideburns.”

“Gran!” I snapped.

Logan grinned. “That so?”

I turned my back and focused on the eggs.

“You okay with this?” I asked Gran softly. “Him staying?”

She gave a half shrug, half smile. “If the club’s worried enough to send him, then something’s wrong. I’d rather be annoyed by too much testosterone than dead because we weren’t careful.”

That sobered me real fast.

And like she read my mind, Logan cleared his throat. “You should know. They found a body.”

I froze. “Where?”

“Just off the interstate, near the rest stop. Male, mid-thirties, shot execution-style. No ID.”

I turned to face him. “Cartel?”

He nodded once. “Most likely. Or someone trying to look like cartel to keep heat off themselves. But either way… not a good sign.”

Gran sat hard in her chair. “That’s close.”

“Too close,” Logan said. “I don’t think they’re looking for you two specifically. Yet. But they’re sniffing around our county line—and I’m not waiting for them to get bolder.”

“So you’re here… just in case,” I said quietly.

He met my eyes. “I’m here because it’s my job. But also because it’s you. ”

My breath caught. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough. I know you care about Gran. I know you fix things when they break and cook even when you burn it. I know you can’t stop pushing your sleeves up and you hate asking for help.”

I swallowed.

“And I know,” he continued, “that when trouble finds this cabin, I’d rather be here to meet it first.”

We stared at each other for a long beat.

Then Gran cleared her throat. “You two want me to go water the tomatoes so you can get all that sexual tension out of your systems?”

I dropped the spatula.

Logan laughed.

And for a second, even with the fear still coiled in my gut, I smiled too.

Because this was insane.

But maybe... it was also exactly where I was supposed to be.

Logan was pacing the porch like a man with a war plan and too much testosterone.

“Back door’s useless,” he muttered, boot tapping the threshold. “Lock’s a joke. Windows are too exposed on the first floor. Hell, this whole place is a sitting duck.”

I folded my arms across my chest, standing barefoot in the doorway, feeling very much like I was watching a military takeover of my grandmother’s cozy cabin. “You say that like we’re expecting a full-blown siege.”

He looked at me, that serious furrow in his brow set like stone. “Bella, I’m not saying it to scare you. I’m saying it because there’s a body in a ditch with no ID and two bullet holes in his skull. That kind of thing doesn’t happen this close to home unless it means something.”

I swallowed.

He leaned down, checking the window locks. “If it were just me, I’d risk it. But it’s not just me. It’s you. And Gran. That makes it different.”

“Different how?” I asked, quieter this time.

His jaw flexed. “Means I won’t let anything happen to you.”

And just like that, my lungs forgot how to work.

He stood, grabbing his keys off the hook by the door. “I’m going to town. I’ll be back with what we need.”

“You mean, like... groceries?”

He paused, one hand on the knob. “Deadbolt. Steel-bolted door. Maybe motion lights. And something for the bedroom windows.”

I blinked. “Bars? You want to put bars on my bedroom windows?”

He turned slowly, watching me. “Until I know who dumped that body and what they were looking for, I’m not playing defense. I’m building a damn fortress.”

I stepped forward, grabbed his arm. “No bars.”

“Bella—”

“No bars,” I said again. “This is our home. Mine and Gran’s. We are not living like we’re in a prison.”

He looked down at my hand, then at me. His voice was rough silk. “Fine. No bars. But then I’m coming back with something else.”

“What? A moat?”

He smirked. “Close.”

He was gone for hours.

Long enough for me to chop vegetables I didn’t need, reorganize Gran’s spice cabinet, and start second-guessing every single feeling I had about this man.

Which, to be clear, were many.

Logan wasn’t just hot. He was capable. Commanding. The kind of man who didn’t just promise safety—he embodied it.

And maybe that was scarier than any cartel.

Because if I wasn’t careful, I’d fall. Hard.

The sun was low by the time I heard the rumble of his truck tires on gravel. I stepped outside, wiping my hands on a dishtowel, expecting wood, tools, and maybe a grimace.

I wasn’t expecting that.

A massive dog—dark black and tan Shepard type mix, with the build of a small horse—launched out of the cab before the engine even cut off.

“Wait—what the?—?!”

I barely had time to yelp before I was on my back in the grass, big paws pressing into my ribs, warm breath panting in my face as the dog licked and nuzzled me like I was his long-lost best friend.

“Logan!” I shrieked, laughing and trying to push the beast off me. “What the hell!”

Logan leaned against the hood of the truck like he was enjoying a damn TV show. “Scout, off.”

The dog instantly backed up, tongue lolling, tail wagging like mad.

I sat up, grass in my hair, flushed from head to toe. “Scout?! You brought a dog ?”

He walked over, knelt beside me, and nudged the dog’s flank. “He’s trained. Used to belong to a vet who passed last month. He needed a home.”

“He’s enormous.”

Logan gave a lazy grin. “Good instincts, too. Saw you from the truck and made a beeline. Told you I’d bring protection.”

“Protection? Or emotional terrorism?”

Scout gave my cheek another sloppy kiss.

Logan smirked and said to the dog, “You’ve got good taste, but I saw her first.”

My heart did something weird and traitorous in my chest.

He nudged Scout away gently, and extended a hand to help me up. I took it, trying not to notice how rough his calloused fingers were. Or how strong his grip felt. Or how close he was now.

He didn’t let go right away.

“Scout’s house-trained. Knows commands. And if anything with bad intentions comes within a hundred feet, he’ll turn them into a chew toy.”

I dusted myself off, still catching my breath. “So now we have a guard dog.”

“And a deadbolt,” he added. “Two of them. Also picked up motion lights and a panic room kit.”

I raised a brow. “Panic room?”

“I’ll explain later. First, I’ve got to fix your back door before it drives me crazy.”

He headed toward the porch, lumber and tools in hand, Scout trotting behind like they’d known each other their whole lives.

I stood there watching them—Logan’s broad shoulders, the masculinity in his easy stride, the way he talked to that dog like they were partners in crime.

God help me.

Because the man had just weaponized loyalty, protection... and puppy eyes.

And I was already in too deep.

The following morning, Gran was on her second batch of cornbread, bustling between the oven and the stovetop like we didn’t have a crew of brawny bikers installing steel-reinforced doors around the house.

Logan had shown up early with two men—Bullet and some giant named Bear, whose beard looked like it could survive nuclear winter—and they wasted no time getting to work.

Hammering. Sawing. Measuring. Laughing low over whatever biker jokes they shared.

It should’ve felt invasive. It didn’t.

It felt like... protection.

Scout chased the tennis ball like it owed him money while I weeded the garden beds near the back fence. Dirt stained my knees, and sweat dotted my temples, but I couldn’t stop smiling. The air was warm but not suffocating, and the pine trees danced in the breeze above us.

It was the kind of moment you read about in books—where nothing too exciting happens, but everything feels right. Like the world paused to give you a soft landing.

“Go get it, you maniac,” I said, hurling the tennis ball again. Scout bolted after it, paws thudding like a mini stampede through the grass.

I leaned back on my heels, brushing dirt from my gloves as I checked the radishes. Everything was so normal. So good. Like maybe, just maybe, we could stay like this.

But five minutes passed.

Then six.

No sign of Scout.

My stomach tightened.

“Scout?” I called out casually, standing and scanning the edge of the woods.

No bark. No rustle.

“Scout!” I tried louder, dropping the trowel.

Still nothing.

Something cold licked the back of my neck—instinct, maybe. Or dread.

I jogged toward the tree line, heart picking up speed. “Scout! Come, boy!”

And then, finally, I heard it. A bark. But not from inside the yard.

Further out. Beyond the fence. Too far.

I pushed through the brush and stumbled into the edge of the woods, heart pounding. “Scout! Come!”

Another bark. Closer. Followed by a man’s voice.

“Easy, buddy... you’re friendly, huh?”

I stopped cold.

There he was.

A man crouched in the brush, petting Scout like they were long-lost friends. Scout was wagging his tail, obviously happy as a clam. But me? My blood froze.

He looked... normal. Kind of. Mid-thirties.

Clean-shaven, but something about him made my skin crawl.

His eyes were too flat. His smile didn’t reach them.

And the tattoos curling over the tips of his fingers, creeping up his forearms under rolled plaid sleeves, sent every alarm bell in my head ringing.

“Sorry,” he said, standing slowly and raising his hands like I was the threat. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Just saw your dog. Thought he was lost.”

“He’s not,” I snapped. “You’re on private property.”

He tilted his head, still smiling. “Just walking. Didn’t realize, Bella .”

Bullshit.

“Scout, come ,” I said sharply, suddenly terrified.

This time, the dog obeyed. Trotted over to me, sensing my shift in energy. He leaned into my leg like a living shield, low growl rumbling in his chest now.

The man’s smile slipped. And that was enough.

“BELLA!” Logan’s voice boomed from the yard. “WHERE ARE YOU?”

The man flinched, pulled out a gun pointed it at Scout’s head. “No!” I screamed covering my dog, not even thinking abut myself. The man’s hand covered my mouth, I felt his breath at my ear. “That was stupid, girl.”

Scout was going crazy I couldn’t hold him back much longer. He nipped the man’s leg and I was let go.

And then he ran.

I stood frozen, breathing hard, Scout pressed against me like a guard tower.

“BELLA!” Logan’s voice was closer now, crashing through brush. And then he appeared, axe still in hand, eyes blazing.

“What happened?” he barked, gaze raking over me.

“There was a man,” I said, pointing. “He was petting Scout. In the woods. Then he turned a gun on us.”

Logan didn’t ask anything else. He took off in the direction the man had fled, Bullet crashing through behind him with Bear not far off.

I didn’t know who that man was. Or why he was so close.

But I knew now what Logan meant when he said we were a sitting duck.

Because peace like we’ve had?

It never lasts forever.

I crouched down, wrapping my arms around Scout’s thick neck, who still growled low in his throat.

This wasn’t just a random trespasser.

Someone knew my name.

Someone got too close.

And now I understood exactly why Logan came back.

Because safety isn’t a vibe.

It’s a war.