Kendall Ryan - Resisting Her

She helped herself to a few pancakes from the platter stacked high between them. Cole was glad to see that she didn’t seem overly self-conscious or shy.

She cut her pancakes into little pieces but still hadn’t taken a bite.

‘How are you doing this morning?’ he asked, trying his best at playing a nurturing role, something new for him.

She swallowed heavily and gazed over at him. ‘Is it stupid that I miss it there?’

The compound? He supposed it was all she knew. ‘No, I guess not. They were the only family you had.’

She nodded. ‘There are some things I won’t miss.’

He left her alone to her thoughts, fighting the urge to push her for details. He appreciated her personality — she didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with pointless chatter. She was more observer of the world than outright contributor, and he could relate. He approached most things with a healthy dose of suspicion, and relationships for him were no different. They were each still feeling each other out, each on guard, but for likely different reasons. She was a vulnerable shell-shocked girl in a stranger’s home, and he was a hardened FBI agent who’d experienced more than his fair share of loss. He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. Christ, what a pair.

After a few seconds of quietly picking at her thumbnail, she asked, ‘Do you think anyone from the compound could find me here?’

He doubted that’d be possible. She was supposed to be at the halfway house. Though if someone was interested enough and started poking around, the facility coordinator may remember Cole and she could be tracked down through him, but why would anyone bother?

‘Why are you asking?’

‘There was someone…’

‘Someone what?’

She looked down, once again becoming fascinated with her thumbnail.

‘Answer me.’ He didn’t intend the brute force behind his voice.

‘Jacob’s son.’

Cole racked his brain. The file mentioned that Jacob had a twenty-one year old son, Dillon, but he hadn’t been living at the compound at the time of the raid. ‘Dillon.’

She nodded.

‘Is he dangerous?’

‘No, nothing like that.’ She hesitated for a beat, but before Cole could probe again, she released a sigh and continued. Dillon had lived at the compound up until last year. He’d gone away to look for a better paying job, but swore he’d come back for her. Despite Savannah’s platonic-only feelings for him, he was convinced they’d get married someday. He brushed off her hesitations, telling her they were meant to be together and he was going to take care of her.

Cole turned to her and took her hands, holding them in between his palms. ‘Listen. He’s not going to find you here. You’re safe. Okay?’

She nodded. ‘Okay.’

After breakfast Cole announced he was going to the grocery store. ‘Is there anything you’d like? You could make a list,’ he encouraged, sliding his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans.

‘Oh no, you get what you like. I don’t want to be a pest.’

‘Savannah, you’re not.’ His look of sincerity stopped any further arguments from her, but she didn’t provide him with a list. He didn’t want to press it, because even after setting a pad of paper and a pen on the counter, Savannah solemnly shook her head. He didn’t know if her refusal was because she really felt like she was overstepping her bounds, or if perhaps she couldn’t write; so he let it drop.

At the grocery store his usual routine was to grab just the essentials and juggle everything in his arms. This time though, he wandered down each aisle and practically got one of everything, throwing things into the cart at will. He ventured to the carpeted section of the superstore where there were racks of clothing. Savannah probably needed a few essentials, but he didn’t know her size, or what she might like, so he kept walking. He stood in an aisle, looking at the plastic packages of underpants. But damn, buying her panties seemed too forward. He fled, feeling odd even standing in the aisle.

He knew that if she stayed longer, they’d have to cross that bridge and get her more clothes, but not today. Not by himself. He’d have to bring her along next time so she could tell him her size. He didn’t allow lovers to stay over, so he didn’t have so much as a spare toothbrush in his guest bathroom, so he settled on picking up a toothbrush—something practical, yet still impersonal. He also tossed pink bottles of shampoo and conditioner into his cart before heading for the checkout lanes.

When he got home Savannah was nowhere to be found. Her bedroom door was closed, so he went to work putting away all the groceries, finding that the cabinets were fuller than they had ever been.

When Savannah emerged fifteen minutes later, showered, and once again dressed in the sweats and T-shirt he’d given her last night, he regretted not buying her any clothes. He wondered if she even had panties or a bra under them. He watched her move towards the kitchen and peek inside the cabinets and fridge.

‘How’d I do?’ he asked, coming up behind her, but bracing himself against the island to keep a physical barrier between them.

‘Quite well. I can make lasagna, pot pie, do some baking. This is perfect.’

Cole smiled, glad that he had pleased her. ‘I got these for you too.’ He pushed the toothbrush, shampoo and conditioner toward her.

Savannah’s eyes lit up as she took the bottles in her hands. ‘Thank you.’ You would have thought he’d given her some elaborate gift. Sure, he splurged a little and bought a brand more expensive than his own cheap shampoo, but he figured she deserved some basic comforts right now. Her whole life had just been turned upside down.

Savannah watched Cole from the corner of her eye, trying to figure out his motivation. He only wants you for what’s between your legs. Jacob’s gruff voice in her head was unwelcome, yet familiar at the same time. What did Cole want with her? Thoughts like that had swirled through her mind since she’d first arrived here. Did he want to touch her? Would he be rough about it, or whisper and caress her sweetly as he touched her? Would she stop him if he tried? Scream and kick and run from the apartment? What would she do then? Maybe she would just let him do what he wanted, take what he wanted. His hands were calloused, but had been gentle when he’d cleaned her wounds, so perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. She could just squeeze her eyes closed and think of something else.

But now it seemed less likely, since he hadn’t yet tried to touch her, hadn’t laid a single finger on her. And she didn’t know what to make of it. Her head felt dizzy with the waiting. At this point she just wanted him to make his move, to get on with it. The waiting and not knowing when he’d strike was exhausting. And so was not knowing how she’d respond.

Being around Cole heightened her senses and left her reeling. She’d never felt this way about Dillon, despite his obvious advances, and found it interesting that even in the presence of Cole’s relative distance, her curiosity was piqued and her body at full attention.

She looked down at the pink bottle of shampoo in her hands. She opened the cap and inhaled. Floral notes and the mouth-watering scent of ripe peaches met her senses, and she smiled. She’d used Cole’s shampoo that smelled like spearmint and made her scalp tingle, which she liked just fine, but it was nice to have something of her own. Her mouth curved into a slow grin at the thought of Cole picking this out her for. And she relished having conditioner too. Her hair would resemble a bird’s nest without it.

After placing the bottles in the guest bathroom, she rejoined Cole in the kitchen to see what she might make for dinner. And perhaps she could even do some baking. As Savannah moved about the kitchen, Cole watched her with suspicion, like he was sure she was about to break down, or freak out at any moment. She didn’t feel like crying anymore. She didn’t feel much of anything anymore. She just wanted to be sure the kids were okay and figure out her new life, taking one day at a time. She felt relieved more than anything to be free from Jacob and the compound where she’d felt so out of place. And grateful for Cole for giving her a second chance at a life. But being unable to understand his intentions was eating away at her. She couldn’t say she was afraid of him; she knew that wasn’t it. More like curious about his motives. She felt comfortable enough, dressed in his soft, worn clothing, making herself at home in his kitchen, and most oddly, making herself comfortable in his arms. It was a comfort she needed, and wouldn’t deny herself. And after Cole had failed to make any type of move on her last night, she’d grown more comfortable, burrowing into his strong arms on the couch and allowing herself the tiniest semblance of safety, even if it wouldn’t last forever.