Resisting Her (8 page)

“What are you going to name her?” he
asked.

Savannah’s lips curved into a smile. God she
was beautiful when she smiled. “I get to name her?”

He nodded and watched her eyes light up.

“I’ll have to think about it.” She smiled,
holding the puppy out at arm’s length to get a good look at
her.

Cole left again with the excuse of needing to
pick up a collar, leash and dog food. But mostly, he needed to
escape the overwhelming feelings brought on by Savannah’s sweet
murmurings to the puppy.

“Come here, Cuddles.” Savannah scooped the
fluff ball up from the floor and balanced the dog on her hip.
“That’s a good girl. No biting Cole.”

The damn dog had turned out to be an ankle
biter — often nipping at Cole’s heels as he walked across the
apartment.

“Dammit, that hurt you little beast.” Cole
absently rubbed his tender Achilles tendon.

Savannah didn’t scold the dog, just picked it
up and lovingly stroked its back. No wonder the thing was so
naughty. She let it get away with murder. Of course, it was only
naughty towards Cole. Cuddles treated Savannah as though she walked
on water. Probably because she was the one who fed and walked it.
Cole usually looked at it with suspicion and distrust.

Now that Savannah had Cuddles and was
starting to adjust, Cole decided his forced vacation was over. He
was going back to work. Norm would just have to deal with the fact
that it was two days early. Savannah had settled in better than he
could have expected, and the dog had helped a lot.

Cole had shown her the grassy fenced in area
where tenants could exercise their dogs. He showed her the little
bags for cleaning up after Cuddles, and gave her an extra key to
his condo, telling her to make sure she kept the door locked. She
didn’t seem too upset by the thought of him going to work, which
was good. She asked if she could take a bubble bath in the sunken
tub in his master bath, and said she wanted to read some of the
books Dr. White had given her too.

When he arrived at the office the next
morning, Norm grumbled something unintelligible and several of the
guys groaned, and then began swapping money.
What the-?

Instead of ordering him back on vacation,
like he suspected would happen, Norm patted him on the back. “Good
work. You stayed away longer than I thought you would.”

He looked around at the grinning faces of his
co-workers. “You guys took bets on me?”

“Most had you coming back on Tuesday. I had
today, which means you just won me fifty bucks.” Norm grinned. “Now
everyone back to work.” He shoved a file of printouts at Cole.
“Here’s a new case for you.”

Regardless of their jabs, Cole knew being
back at work was a good thing. It would help give him some much
needed perspective and occupy his brain, hopefully forcing thoughts
of Savannah aside, if only for eight hours at a time.

When he got home from work, he found Savannah
sitting on the living room floor clutching Cuddles to her chest,
tears freely streaming down her cheeks.

He dropped his bag in the entryway and
stormed across the living room, falling to his knees in front of
her. “Savannah, what is it? What happened?” He cradled her jaw in
his hands, meeting her teary eyes.

She looked at him and then back at the TV.
“Oh Cole, it’s just so sad.”

He looked at the screen to see what she’d
been watching. It was one of those damn talk shows that featured a
cast of low lives — this episode appeared to be a girl who didn’t
know who the father of their baby was. A tattooed guy strutted
across the stage, shouting obscenities at the audience after
learning he was not the father. The mother was not to be outdone,
was wildly gesturing and shouting, nearly every word bleeped
out.

Cole turned it off. “You shouldn’t be
watching that trash.”

“She didn’t know who the father of her child
was, and he was just so mean…” She sniffed, drawing a deep breath.
“And the poor baby…”

Cole pulled her to his chest. “Shh, it’s not
real. It’s just TV.” He didn’t know if that was entirely true, but
Savannah didn’t need to know that. She was just too vulnerable, too
impressionable, having not grown up in the real world. If he could
protect her from even some of its harsh realities, he would.

After holding her for a few minutes until her
tears subsided, Cole rubbed gentle circles on her back. She pulled
away and met his eyes. Still red and puffy, but no fresh tears.
“Are you okay?”

She nodded, unwilling to take her eyes from
his. “Thanks for…everything. For taking care of me.”

Her lips were only a few inches from his. The
desire to kiss her was an overwhelming need, sucking the air from
his lungs. His breathing became shallow and he nodded, still
meeting her eyes.

She smiled softly and rose to her feet,
leaving Cole sitting on his living room rug alone. After shaking
away the crazy thoughts in his head, everything from a fierce surge
of protectiveness to attraction, he got up and joined Savannah in
the kitchen.

He sat perched on a stool while she began
dinner. As she cooked, Savannah asked about his day at work. He
told her about his new case, investigating a man who was believed
to be working with a known terrorist. She listened in rapt interest
as she sautéed chicken and vegetables for stir fry. He couldn’t
help but notice how comfortable it felt to come home to Savannah at
night, rather than his empty apartment. And a hot meal too? He knew
he could get used to this — and that was bad, very bad.

***

Gasping for air, Savannah untangled herself
from the sheets and fought to get her breathing under control. It
was just a dream. Dillon wasn’t there. Jacob was gone. And she was
safe. Tell that to her heart, currently thundering in her chest
like she’d just sprinted a marathon.

“Savannah? What is it?” Cole sat up in bed,
running a hand across his face.

“Sorry, nothing. Just a bad dream,” she
mumbled. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Cole reached over and flicked on the small
bedside lamp. Savannah blinked against the warm glow, finding
Cole’s features etched in concern and his hair rumpled from
sleep.

Placing his warm palm on the center of her
back, he rubbed slow circles, working to calm her. Savannah drew a
slow shuddering breath and attempted a smile, trying to show him
she wasn’t as broken as she felt.

“What was the dream about?” he asked, his
voice thick with sleep.

Blinking a few times, her eyes adjusted to
the light and Savannah took notice of Cole’s shirtless form. His
broad bare chest was enough of a distraction, and she focused on
him instead of the memories swirling in her head. “It was just
something that happened a few weeks before the raid. Dillon sat me
down and explained that his father had promised him that I could be
his. That was why he needed to go away and work, to save up money
for our future.”

Cole’s brow wrinkled and his hand stilled on
her back. “What do you mean
promised you could be his
?”

Savannah shrugged. She knew she didn’t want
to belong to anyone. She wanted to be her own woman, and be loved
and cherished in her own right, but free to come and go, make her
own choices. Living with Jacob, or Dillon for that matter, that
wasn’t possible. Which was why she was so grateful for Cole. She
kept most of these somber memories to herself, preferring instead
to focus on the good things — like the children and the few friends
she’d had there. But she couldn’t control her subconscious, and
dreams of Jacob’s crazy rants and Dillon urgings needed to
stop.

“Can you just hold me tonight?” she whispered
to Cole.

His expression was guarded, but he nodded his
consent and held open his arms. Savannah crawled closer, nestled
herself into the crook of his arm and he lowered them both to the
bed, reaching over to flip off the light. Savannah breathed in his
warm, male scent and rested her head against the firm plane of his
chest. As crazy as it was, she felt completely safe and at ease
with Cole. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, slipping
into a restful sleep in Cole’s solid embrace.

***

That Sunday Cole got changed and readied
himself for a tough conversation. He ventured to the living room
and found Savannah on the sofa, little magazine clippings on the
coffee table in front of her like she was in the middle of some
project.

“I have this thing I do on Sundays,” he
started.

Savannah looked up him curiously, Cuddles
dozing near her hip. “Okay.” She turned back to her magazine
cutouts — pictures of puppies and babies, and other nonsensical
things.

“I’ll um, be back before dinner.”

She nodded.

He slipped into his shoes, still waiting for
her questions, but they never came.

Savannah didn’t say a thing. Didn’t even
raise an eyebrow about where he went on Sundays. What would he say
if she did? How would he explain his relationship with Abbie?
Perhaps it was best to shield Savannah from the whole situation,
including his messy relationship history. Things were manageable
now. Two hours on a Sunday were all that was required to keep
things running smoothly. And so far, Savannah hadn’t asked a single
question. Perhaps it was one of those things better left unknown.
Easier for all involved. He was trying to do the right thing by
Abbie. Of course, now that Savannah was in his life, things had
gotten considerably more complicated. He didn’t normally do
complicated.

Cole had always felt confident in his
decision to maintain his relationship with Abbie. He was doing the
right thing to help a friend in need — simple as that. Then why did
it feel like a fuck of a lot more suddenly? The fact that Savannah
didn’t know about her turned it into some dirty secret. He had
enough skeletons in his closet, and he didn’t particularly enjoy
adding another. But he drew in a deep breath and shook off the
tension building between his shoulder blades. Just because he had
Savannah in his life didn’t mean he could walk away from his other
responsibilities.

Cole ran his hands over his face, pressing
the heels of his palms over his eyes. Why women didn’t come with an
instruction manual was beyond him.

Monday morning came too quickly after another
pleasant weekend spent with Cole. Savannah yawned and smoothed her
hair back, securing it in a low ponytail at the nape of her neck.
The least she could do to say thank you was to help out around the
house, not to mention if they wanted to eat, the responsibility
seemed to rest on her. “The coffee’s ready,” she called to
Cole.

He entered the kitchen with a frown. “Not in
the mood.”

He always drank coffee. Always. “What’s
wrong?” she asked, turning to watch him fasten the last few buttons
on his dress shirt. She helped him with the cufflinks that his
fingers always stumbled over. “Here. Let me.”

“Thanks.” He smiled weakly.

“Are you sick?” she asked, noticing the dark
circles beneath his eyes.

“It’s just an upset stomach. I’ll be
fine.”

She stared at him, having never seen him
under the weather, and felt altogether useless. “Can I get you some
ginger ale and soda crackers?”

He nodded. “Ah, sure. Maybe that’ll do the
trick.” He slipped into his loafers while Savannah poured a small
glass of the bubbly amber-colored drink. “My mom used to give me
the same thing.”

“Here.” She watched while he munched down the
crackers and then downed the soda.

“See, I’m fine Savannah.” He chuckled,
passing back the empty glass.

“Okay,” she said reluctantly, accepting it.
He’d done so much for her, it was the least she could do to be
there for him. Savannah headed into the kitchen and switched off
the coffee maker, having never developed a taste for the stuff
herself, and watched from the corner of her eye as Cole stuffed his
cell phone, wallet and keys into the pockets of his slacks. He was
a man of routine, that much was certain. He kept all his
essentials, plus some loose change, and a seldom worn watch in a
small mahogany box on his entryway table, and repeated this same
ritual each morning. Savannah continued to inspect him,
appreciating the way he looked dressed up in his work clothes, when
Cole suddenly darted from the entryway, passing her as he shot down
the hall.

“Cole…” She followed him toward the bathroom,
but the sounds of him becoming sick stopped her at the threshold.
She stood with her back pressed against the wall just outside the
bathroom door, wondering if she should go to him.

She heard the water running and him gargling.
“Cole?” she knocked softly on the door. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” he called. His
voice was tense and rougher than usual, making Savannah’s stomach
knot with worry.

He emerged a second later, looking no worse
for the wear and continued past her to the front door. “See you
tonight.”

“Cole!” She met him at the door. “You’re
still going to work?”

He nodded, pausing at the half-open front
door. “Yeah.”

“But you were just sick!”

“So? I’m a big boy. I’ll be fine.”

“You have the flu; go get in bed.”

An expression of surprise crossed Cole’s face
and he darted for the bathroom, cursing under his breath. She heard
the telltale signs of him getting sick again.

A few minutes later, Savannah steered Cole
into his bedroom, refusing to take no for an answer, and helped him
step out of his dress slacks, pockets still full and belt dangling
loosely.

“I need my cell.” He looked adorably cute
standing there pouting in just his black boxers briefs and white
undershirt.

Slightly exasperated that he was going to be
a difficult patient, Savannah anchored her hands on her hips, ready
to do what it took to force him into being an obedient patient. “No
phones. No work. No.”