by Jill Sanders
“Why would you want to?” she asked. The kettle whistled, and he walked back into the kitchen to make their hot chocolate. She nibbled on a few crackers with cheese while she waited. She was hungry again.
He came back over and set a mug in front of her on the glass table next to the sofa. “Be careful, it’s hot.”
She waited for him to continue, and when he didn’t, she nudged him.
“Maybe it was the need to get this person off the streets. Maybe it was because of the items they were supposedly selling.” He shrugged. “Either way, I needed to finish the job, myself. My team needed me. So I did what had to be done.”
“Why did you come home?” she asked, picking up the mug.
“We had lost the trail. So I came back because of you. I wanted… I needed to see you. I missed you.” He reached over and ran a fingertip down her face. “I fell in love with you and had to tell you myself.”
She almost spilled the hot chocolate on herself at his admission.
“Why didn’t you call me in between? You had my number.” she asked. It was a blow, after admitting he loved her, to have her ask him why he hadn’t called.
“I was deep, I couldn’t. I was afraid that if they had found any ties to you…” He had been afraid that they had tracked him back to her loft in Paris.
“But they did,” she said. “From the sounds of it, or at least, from what you told your dad.”
He thought about it, then nodded. “Yeah, we’d gotten word that everything was all clear, that the group had been captured in Russia. We know now that it was a false report and looks like we fell into their trap of letting our guard down.” He could kick himself about it now, knowing it was his fault she was hurt. He’d warned his folks, but had kept Ashley in the dark.
They must have followed him from the moment he’d returned home. He’d been sloppy. He mentally vowed never to let that happen again.
Even if he did break things off with Ashley, for her own safety, he would make sure she was safe from here on out.
“Why the scowl?” she asked, catching his attention.
He cleared his face and shook his head. He set his own mug down and tried to figure out how to own up to the fact that she was hurt because of him. Finally, he just blurted it out.
“It’s all my fault. The moment I found out that they had found me, I should have…” Her hand on his stopped him. His eyes moved up until they locked with hers.
“Cole, if you’re going to sit here and tell me that me getting hurt is all your fault, you can just stop. Yes, you should have told me, but you couldn’t have known that any of this would happen.” She moved closer to him. “None of this would have happened if you’d just opened up to me. Trusted me.” Her eyes searched his. “Like, right now, you’re still holding something back from me.”
He shook his head, but when she narrowed her eyes, he stopped.
“How long have we known one another?” she asked out of the blue.
“I think since we were four or five.”
“Exactly, so don’t try to fool me. I’ve known you too long. I can tell, even after all the training they gave you, what you’re thinking. So…spill.” She grabbed the plate of cheese and crackers and nibbled as she waited for him to start talking.
“Fine,” he finally said. “After you’re better, I can’t see you again.”
“Can’t?” Her eyebrows shot up and her hand stilled, a cracker halfway to her mouth. “Or won’t?”
“Can’t,” he supplied. “For your safety—”
The cracker and cheese she’d been holding hit him in the middle of the forehead. “Hey!” He brushed them off his face. The cheese had hit him with a splat and stuck to his forehead. He thought about laughing, but the look on her face stopped him. “Ash, it’s for…”
“If you say my own safety, you’ll get the entire plate on your head.”
“But, it…” She held up the plate and he shut his mouth.
When she was satisfied he wasn’t going to talk again, she slammed the plate down, got up with a slight wobble, and started pacing in front of the fireplace. “Why is it”—she turned on him after a few moments of silence—“that men are so stupid?”
“Ash,” he warned.
“No, you’ll shut up right now, if you know what’s good for you, and listen to what I have to say.”
“Okay.” He leaned back and decided to enjoy the show of Ashley being thoroughly pissed, something he’d only seen a handful of times in his life.
Her hands went to her hips as she started again.
“Did you ever stop to think that I loved you, too? You finally get around to telling me, then play the chauvinist card. You think you know what’s best for us?” She turned around and faced the fireplace and he felt the first stirring of guilt.
He walked over and wrapped his arms around her. He felt her tense, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he turned her towards him and held on tighter. Something had shifted inside him at her admission that she loved him. He’d never dreamed that she would feel the same way. He hadn’t done anything to deserve her love, at least not yet.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered softly into her hair. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you again.” He kissed the top of her head gently. His fingers found the small bandage over her stiches and bump.
She sighed and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Don’t be a jerk,” she said into his chest. “Open up to me, trust me, talk to me,” she begged softly. “I know there are some things you can’t tell me, but what you can…” She leaned back, her eyes searching his. “If we’re going to get through this together, I deserve to know some things.”
He nodded his agreement. “First, how about we make some food.” He glanced out the window at the darkness and realized he didn’t even know what time it was.
“My schedule is all screwed up,” she said, stepping back and glancing around. “It feels like I’ve been asleep for days.” She gasped, and he spun around. “It’s only ten o’clock.” She giggled. “Sorry,” she said after he glared at her.
He relaxed slightly. “Yeah, it feels later. Naps will do that to you.”
“You slept too?” she asked, following him into the kitchen.
“Sit.” He nudged her onto a bar stool. “I’ll heat something up. The freezer is full of pre-made dinners with labels from Mrs. Anderson.”
“She’s one in a million. If there’s something labeled chicken pot pie in there…” She leaned up to look over his shoulder.
“There are four containers labeled that.”
“Woohoo,” she said softly, then grabbed her head. “Okay, eat first, then pain pills.”
Worry flooded him. “You okay?”
“Yes, nothing a few aspirin won’t fix.”
He nodded. “Go in and lay on the sofa. I’ll heat these up.” He pulled two containers out of the freezer. There were even handwritten instructions on the top of them on how to heat them up. He made a mental note to make sure Mrs. Anderson got a thank-you gift when this was all over. That was, if they survived.
13
The next day, Ashley sank into a hot bath and rested her pounding head back on a soft towel she’d rolled up to use as a cushion. She’d found one of Amber’s bath bombs and had thrown it into the tub. She smiled when the sweet scent of spring hit her full force.
Her mind drifted to her sister and her success. Amber was probably having a lot of fun on her honeymoon. Being one of Hollywood’s sweethearts had always been her sister’s dream, as had marrying Tom. Now her sister had both. Ashley was so proud of her.
Then her mind turned to her own dreams. She’d always wanted to paint, and she’d always dreamed of being with Cole. For years, she’d given up on the latter. Being tossed in the friend zone early on in grade school had killed her dream of anything more happening between them.
Back then, she would have never guessed that one day they would be this close. Or that he’d look at her the way he had last night when he�
��d told her that he loved her.
She couldn’t get over it. It still seemed like she was dreaming it. Being here with Cole, having him tell her he loved her.
She moved wrong and her headache doubled. She was definitely not dreaming. She never could have made up the amount of pain the bump on the back of her head caused her.
The stitches were supposed to stay dry, but she was dying to wash her hair. It was matted next to her scalp and oily. She tried to dip only the front of her hair into the water for a few minutes, but then she gave up. Now her hair hung in front of her face in a heaping mess. She dumped a bunch of conditioner on it so she wouldn’t have to fight the tangles and rinsed it as best as she could. Then she leaned back again and relaxed some more.
She was just about to drift off to sleep in the warm water when there was a light knock on the door.
“Are you doing okay in there?” Cole asked from the other side of the door. She glanced over and realized she’d locked it out of habit.
She couldn’t see what she looked like, but she was sure it was a mess. She didn’t want him to see her like that.
“Yes, fine,” she said softly. She rested her head back once more, which caused the bump to vibrate somehow, and her eyesight wavered. Her stomach rolled.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
“No.” She jerked a little in the water then relaxed when she remembered the door was still locked. “I’ll be out soon.” She closed her eyes when her stomach bubbled.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. She could hear the worry in his voice.
“Yes, I’m fine. I’ll be out soon. The water is cooling off.” She felt a shiver and stood up. She reached for a thick towel, and her head did a quick spin. The room was blasted with a bright blinding light.
She didn’t remember falling or hitting the floor. What she did remember was hearing Cole’s screams and the sound of wood breaking.
Then she was lifted and surrounded by warmth. Everything was dark.
She woke with a startle. It was the silence that caused her eyes to flutter open. She was sure the room had just been filled with noise, but now there was an eerie emptiness.
She opened one eye and then the other and was a little surprised to see how dark the room was. She could tell that, under the heavy blankets, she was still naked.
She glanced around the room and was surprised to see that she was alone. She would have thought that Cole would watch over her like a hawk. Scooting up, she listened to the rest of the house. It was so quiet, she felt a shiver run up her spine.
There was a dark brown robe lying across the foot of the bed. She reached for it and quickly tied it around herself. She moved to get up and groaned as her head started to spin.
“You scared me half to death,” Cole said from the doorway of the bathroom.
Seeing his dark form standing there when she hadn’t expected it caused a scream to escape her lips. The high-pitched sound pierced like a knife through her brain, but she couldn’t control the fear that had jumped inside her at the memory of seeing the other man in her home. Her body shook as she glared at him in the bathroom doorway.
She grabbed her head and groaned louder than she’d screamed as her vision went fuzzy and her head spun even more. Her breath was coming faster and she couldn’t seem to slow her heart rate down. Even after telling herself that it was just Cole, the memories of seeing the dark figure in her house made her body shake uncontrollably.
“You okay?” she vaguely heard beyond the fog.
“Damn it!” It came out as a whisper. She felt his hands on her shoulders as he nudged her to sit back down. Her eyes were closed tight and even then, bright lights flashed behind her lids.
“I’d forgotten you’ve got some lungs on you.” She heard him chuckle and opened her eyes to glare at him. She gasped when she saw that her eyesight was so fuzzy, she could only make out a dark blob in front of her.
“Cole.” The tone of her voice made his fingers tighten on her shoulders. “I…” She was blinking fast, trying to clear her eyes, as if it was only sleep blocking the view. “I can’t see.”
He was silent. “The doctor said your sight might come and go. Why don’t you lay down? I’ll grab your medicine and some water for you.” He nudged her back onto the bed. She’d heard the worry in his tone, and knew he was trying to calm her down.
She rested against the headboard, straining her eyes to see anything clearly.
“Don’t stress your eyes. Close them, it’ll help. Trust me.”
“How would you know?” she asked, doing as he suggested.
“I’ve had a few concussions myself.” She could hear him moving around the room and relaxed back against the pillows.
“How did you get hurt?” she asked.
She felt the bed shift next to her. “Here,” he said softly. “Open your mouth. I’ll drop the pills in.”
She did so, then reached out and took the bottle of water. He helped her take a drink.
“The first time—”
“You’ve had more than one concussion?” she interrupted.
“Three,” he supplied with a chuckle. “First two were in school, one was football, the other baseball.”
She remembered then all the times Cole had been injured playing the sports that made him one of the most popular boys in school.
“What about the third time?” she asked, feeling her entire body starting to relax again.
“It happened shortly before I ran into you in Paris.”
“And?” she asked when he didn’t continue.
“How about I head down and heat us up some dinner? I’m starving.” He started to get up, but she reached out and, as luck would have it, grabbed hold of his hand.
“Cole, what happened?”
He sighed as he shifted back onto the bed.
“I was in an accident in Moscow.”
“Russia?” She sat up a little.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “It’s not as bad as—”
“A car accident?” she asked, not letting him finish. Images of him being chased by bad guys as they shot at him in an Aston Martin flashed in her mind.
“Stop.” He chuckled and she could tell he’d guessed what she was thinking. “I wasn’t being chased.”
Something in his voice told her that he was lying. She crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head.
“How can you do that with your eyes closed?”
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.” He chuckled. “Okay, so I was being chased, but no one was shooting at me.” He shifted, and the bed dipped.
She could hear he was telling the truth this time.
“I had an asset that needed to get to the embassy. We got caught up in traffic and somehow ended up in a fender bender.”
“If you suffered a concussion, I’d wager it was more than a fender bender.”
He sighed. “What are you, like, a lie detector?”
She smiled and leaned back again. “So, did you get your… asset to the embassy?”
“Yes. I had to carry her the four blocks.”
“Her?” she asked, feeling a little jealous of the unknown woman.
“Yes.” She could hear the smile in his tone. “Her intel was the reason we went to Paris.”
“Oh?”
He took her hand. “Enough story time. I’m really hungry now. Besides, you were supposed to take those pills with food.” He leaned in and placed a kiss on her cheek. “I like this look.”
“What?” she asked, half-heartedly.
“The tangled curls. The just-got-out-of-the-shower look. It’s good on you.” He kissed her once and she heard him leave the room. Then she remembered that she probably looked like a drowned rat and groaned when she realized there was nothing she could do about it until her eyesight returned.
Cole pulled a pan of lasagna from the freezer and followed the instructions Mrs. Anderson had taped to the top of the container. His heart still hadn’t settled dow
n after hearing Ashley fall in the bathroom or seeing her in a small heap on the cold tile floor.
After putting the pan in the oven, he leaned against the counter and closed his eyes as the scene flashed again in his mind.
He knew what to expect with a concussion, but seeing her suffer the effects was a lot different than going through it himself.
He should be up there with her now, watching her. But he knew that if she could hear his lies in his voice, she would hear the concern as well.
He needed some time to compose himself and put the mask he’d grown accustomed to wearing back in place. He’d trained long and hard to keep his emotions out of his face and voice. Knowing that Ashley could hear his lies in his voice was disturbing.
He took a couple deep breaths and tried to settle himself. His mind focused on the task at hand as he pulled out some homemade bread and the fixings for a salad.
He grabbed a beer from the fridge and sipped it while he waited for the food to heat. He had no doubt they were safe here, at least for a while. After the last few days, he wasn’t prepared to drop his guard again anytime soon.
His first concern was making sure Ashley recovered from the ordeal. Closing his eyes, he leaned back again and the image of her unconscious body on the floor flashed again.
“Damn,” he said softly as he reached for his beer.
By the time he carried the tray of food up the stairs, his mind was clearer.
He had added a glass of juice to the tray for her since her medicine wouldn’t allow her wine. He had wanted another beer, but he didn’t dare allow himself to get too comfortable.
“Here we are.” The first thing he noticed was that she’d tried to fix her hair. It was piled on top of her head in a messy bun with strands of it falling around her face. The second thing was that her eyes tracked him as he made his way across the room.
“How’s the head?”
“Much better.” She smiled. “You’re a dark blob instead of everything being grey.”
