Resisting Her. Kendall Ryan
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well, given the craziness of the situation.
She dumped an entire package of penne pasta into a pot of boiling, salted water. Cole watched her movements, and decided he liked having her in his kitchen. A satisfied little smile tugged at her lips, and she moved about effortlessly.
Only once they were seated in the small breakfast nook, nibbling on pasta with a rich sauce she made from milk, butter and parmesan cheese, did he venture to ask about her past.
‘Can I ask you a few questions about the compound…and how you grew up?’ He knew some of the details from reading the files on the case, but he wanted to hear the story in Savannah’s own words.
She nodded reluctantly. Her eyes were skittish—looking anywhere but at him.
‘You just let me know if there’s anything you’re not comfortable answering. And we won’t talk about it.’ He didn’t intend to push her too far tonight. She’d been through enough, but he figured if she was going to be staying in his home, there was some basic information he’d need to know, if only to make sure she felt as comfortable as possible.
‘What was it like growing up there?’
She took a deep breath and began reiterating some of what he’d read in the case files. Jacob wanted to create a perfect community: they grew their own food, sold goods at farmer’s markets, and were entirely self-contained. He taught them that the outside world was a dangerous place, and that people were dirty and couldn’t be trusted. He taught them that germs and diseases spread from sexual contact would eventually kill off most of the population and they wouldn’t be able to procreate, so Jacob’s followers needed to separate themselves to live cleanly.
‘How did your mother get involved?’ Cole asked.
Savannah folded her hands in her lap. ‘She fell for him. He was a charmer, a smoother talker, confident. Easily able to convince people to follow him.’
Cole knew that much from the information the Bureau had collected in the file.
‘He could be very persuasive. When he spoke, people listened,’ Savannah explained.
‘What about you; did you believe his teachings?’
She nodded. ‘At first. I didn’t know any different. But as I got older, I began to wonder. I had this urge to see for myself; it nagged at me sometimes.’
Finding her plate empty, Cole served up another helping of pasta for Savannah before urging her to continue.
She stabbed a forkful of noodles, looking lost in thought. ‘Most of all, I just wanted to go to school. Jacob couldn’t understand it. He tried to convince me it wasn’t safe. Boys out there…’ she stopped suddenly, her eyes dropping to her plate.
‘What? You can tell me.’
‘He said the boys would only want one thing from me — to get in my panties.’
Had anyone been in her panties? And why did that thought make him want to punch someone? He had no right — no claim to her — yet he couldn’t help the possessive streak that surged inside him. ‘Okay. So I take it you didn’t go to school?’
‘No. But I refused to relent and finally convinced Jacob to hire a tutor for me, so I could get my high school diploma. We met at the local library twice a week for the last year. I was one of the few given permission to leave the compound.’
Wow. He’d been right about her determination.
They ate in silence for several minutes. Cole didn’t want to push her too fast, he was happy that she was comfortable talking to him at all.
‘This is delicious, by the way.’ He stabbed a forkful of pasta and managed another bite, though he was stuffed four bites ago. He had a healthy appetite, but Savannah had made enough to feed an army — if the still full platter of pasta on the table between them was any indication.
‘You obviously know a lot about me,’ Savanna said, twirling a strand of long hair around her finger. ‘But if I’m going to stay here, shouldn’t I know more about you?’
He shrugged. ‘What do you want to know?’
She thought about it for a moment, continuing to play with her hair. Cole’s attention was pulled from her brilliant green eyes to her mouth and the way she absently toyed with stray lock of hair.
‘No wife? No girlfriend?’
‘It’s just me.’
‘How come?’
He thought about how to respond, not about why — he didn’t want the responsibility, the heartache that came with loss of a loved one ever again. But he took his time, considering which answer to give her. ‘It’s the way I like it.’
Savannah frowned slightly. ‘Doesn’t that get lonely? What about your family? Are they nearby?’
Cole remained quiet, watching the way her hand stilled its movements when she grew unsure of herself, wondering if she’d overstepped a boundary with that question.
‘That’s another thing you and I have in common.’
Her eyes searched his, trying to understand. ‘Your parents…’
‘They’re gone. Have been for a few years now. It’s just my sister Marissa and me. She’s three years older and a pain in the ass,’ he added, hoping to add some levity back into the moment which had suddenly grown heavier than he’d bargained for.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, her eyes never wavering from his.
Realization sparked between them and their gazes remained locked together. Her eyes softened and prodded his dark stare until they were no longer strangers, but two people connecting from a shared loss that wounded so deeply, it never quite healed.
He took a slow, shaky breath. This wasn’t part of the deal. He couldn’t be getting soft now. Just because he’d brought his work home, so to speak, didn’t mean it was okay for him to get all mushy. Christ, what came next? Crying on each other’s shoulders? Knitting a God damn blanket. No fucking way. He’d do what he had to do to help Savannah. He wasn’t okay with seeing a woman suffer. That was all this was. He would not get emotionally involved. Couldn’t. Not again. He had a cabinet full of prescription meds that were the result of him getting involved in something he shouldn’t have once before.
‘Thanks,’ he bit out, more than ready to change the topic.
The remnants of food between them had grown cold, and Savannah looked positively exhausted. She sat slumped in her chair, her head leaning in her hand.
‘Come on, let’s get you to bed.’ He placed their dishes in the sink and guided Savannah to the guest room.
Cole’s home wasn’t what Savannah had expected. She wasn’t quite sure what she’d been expecting, but the large, modern third-floor loft with floor to ceiling windows and furniture with sleek, clean lines was unanticipated. She was too exhausted to explore, being overtired and fighting off a panic attack would do that to you, but she dutifully followed behind Cole, trying her best to listen as he pointed out things out to her. The small breakfast nook opened to a large living room with an espresso colored sectional sofa facing a large flat screen TV.
She’d already grown to love the large spotless kitchen, with its stainless steel appliances and rustic butcher-block island, even if the sight of it initially caused a pang of sadness to hit her chest. Thinking of cooking made her think of the compound, which made her think of the children. She worried about where they were now, and if they were being well cared for. Especially little Britta. The five year old girl was so smart and so tough, the toughest little girl she knew, and yet she looked so sad when she was loaded into the van with the other children. She hoped Britta was okay. Wished she could find her… But she’d put that out of her mind as she had worked, whipping up a basic recipe for fettuccine alfredo. She couldn’t say she’d ever made that particular dish at three in the morning, but her options