Page 32 of Puck Your Bunny

"We survive." I maintain eye contact. "The accounts drain fast. I budget tight. I stretch every dollar. I repair things when they break beyond salvation. The driveway is a trip hazard, so I let your crew stay. I plan to hire a fence crew next month."

"A stiff breeze will knock the rest of this timber onto your patio." Kel points to the rotting supports. "Brendan is bound to a wheelchair. You are exhausted. Give me a few hours to set the framing."

"You need a secure yard today." Kel holds his hands up, palms open. "I ask for zero favors. I just want to put up wood."

I stare at him. The urge to fight fades, replaced by the exhaustion of pushing everyone away. He offers his labor as a gift. He puts in the grueling work to fix my broken fence.

"Fine." I turn on my heel. "Just stay in the yard."

A couple of hours pass. The sun dips low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the dead grass. The whine of the wood chipper out front dies down. The landscaping crew packs up for the day.

I walk back out the rear door. The backyard looks different. A line of thick wooden posts spans the back edge of the property. Fresh crossbeams bridge the gaps, forming the skeleton of a new fence.

Kel stands near his truck tailgate. He packs his tools away. Dirt streaks his forearms and stains the knees of his jeans.

I grab a cold bottle of water from the fridge. I step off the patio and cross the dead grass to the back of the yard. I hold the bottle out to him over the new framing.

Kel accepts the bottle. Our fingers brush. A jolt shoots up my arm. He twists the cap off and downs half the water in three huge gulps.

"You made a lot of progress." I trace my fingers along the smooth grain of a fresh pine post. "Thank you."

"The privacy panels go up tomorrow." Kel tosses the empty plastic bottle into the bed of his truck. "An open boundary agitates our instincts. Simon is parking his Porsche at the end of the alley tonight to keep watch."

I shake my head. "That is excessive. This neighborhood is quiet. The alley stays empty all night."

Kel leans against his tailgate. "Our instincts demand a secure perimeter. We will stay awake pacing our penthouse knowing you have an exposed yard. One of us stays on guard."

Guilt twists my stomach. The image of a massive hockey player cramped in a tiny sports car all night flashes in my mind.

I chew on my bottom lip. Kristy's words echo in my head.

See if Brendan likes them.

"Simon will wreck his spine sleeping in a sports car." I grip the top of a wooden crossbeam. "Call him off. You can take my sofa tonight. I made chili. You can come inside and eat."

Kel's eyes widen. A flash of hope brightens his expression. He takes a step closer.

I hold my hand up to stop his momentum. "Boundaries first. No kissing. No touching. You sleep on the sofa, and you are a guest for dinner. That is all."

Kel nods. He shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans to prove his compliance. "Understood. Lead the way."

I open the gate and let him walk onto the patio. His massive frame towers over me, but his scent remains calm and steady. We step into the kitchen. He pulls his dirty boots off and leaves them by the door.

I grab two bowls from the cabinet and ladle the hot chili into them. I pull a small food processor from the corner of the counter. I dump one bowl of chili into the plastic pitcher and hit the pulse button. I blend the meat and beans into a smooth soup. I pour the puree back into the bowl and stir in a spoonful of thickener. Kel stands near the island, tracking my routine.

"He needs blended food to prevent choking." I grab two spoons from the drawer. "This is our reality. Every meal requires prep."

"Understood." Kel motions toward the hall.

I lead him down the short hallway into the living room. Brendan sits in his customized chair. The evening news plays on the television. I set the bowls on the coffee table. I walk over and crouch next to Brendan's wheelchair.

"Bren, we have a guest for dinner." I keep my voice gentle.

Kel stops a few feet away. He gives Brendan plenty of space. He lowers his massive frame down to the floor, sitting cross-legged on the rug to put himself below Brendan's eye level. It acts as a clear sign of submission to a resident Alpha.

"I'm Kel Lars." He offers a small, respectful nod. "Thanks for having me over, man."

Brendan blinks. He turns his head, the muscles in his neck straining as he focuses his bright blue eyes on the hockey player. He stares at Kel for a long minute. The scent of rain and driftwood flares in the living room. It weaves through Kel's sea breeze and leather. The scents blend well together.