Ashley had heard most of the conversation. Enough to understand that Cole believed that the break-in had something to do with him and wasn’t just a robbery. Besides that, it sounded like he’d sent his parents away.

“Well?” she said, trying to calm herself down, since the increased blood pressure was causing her head to pound. Cole was just looking at her, as if he didn’t know what to say.

“I… it was my dad. They’re in Hawaii.”

“Yes, I figured that much out.” Her eyes narrowed slightly.

He stood suddenly and made his way towards her. Throwing up her hands to ward him off, she waited.

“I was going to tell you…” She waited for him to finish. “Why don’t we head down and get something warm to drink? Some tea or hot chocolate?”

She blocked the way with a simple move. “Don’t think you can avoid this,” she warned.

“No, it’s just, man, it gets cold up here.” He rubbed his arms and it was then that she noticed he was standing there in only his boxers.

She could see his man nipples rising and held in a chuckle. Then, for some reason, she had an intense urge to reach over and touch his chest.

Her eyes traveled up and down him, and she smiled when she noticed his boxers start to tent up in front.

“You keep looking at me like that and we won’t make it far,” he warned. Her eyes snapped back to his when she remembered she was supposed to be mad at him.

“You’ll tell me?” she asked again.

“Yes.” His hands moved to her shoulders. “After I put some clothes on and warm up. Maybe start a fire.”

“Okay.” She moved aside and followed him out.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, pulling on his jeans, a shirt, and a sweatshirt.

“I have a headache,” she admitted. “I could take one of those pills they gave me.”

It was her head that had woken her, not the fact that Cole had left the bed.

He walked over to her and looked into her eyes, then nodded. “Think you can make it down the stairs?”

She sighed, remembering that the master bedroom was a third-floor loft, and that she had to negotiate a massive circular staircase. “Yeah, if you hold onto me. I bet a case of vertigo would be a bitch on those stairs.”

His soft chuckle followed her to the edge of the stairs. She looked down the stairs and was thankful when he reached over and took her arm.

“Steady,” he warned.

“Easy for you to say. Your head isn’t spinning.”

In the next moment, she was in his arms again, closing her eyes. She rested her head against his shoulder.

“Will this ever go away?” she asked, feeling the dizziness consume her again.

“Another reason I was hoping for a smaller cabin.” He sighed.

She looked up at him and focused on his face as he carried her down the stairs.

“Why do you think the break-in had anything to do with you?”

He set her down on the new furniture Amber had purchased for the cabin a few weeks back. Ashley had spent two entire days helping her sister pick everything out. Tom had wanted her to update the place since it was his grandfather who’d purchased the last furniture.

“Because of the call I received the other morning.” He stood over her. “Coffee, hot chocolate, or tea?”

“Hot chocolate. There should be some marshmallows.” She pointed to the cabinet.

“Do you come up here often?” he asked, making his way to the kitchen.

“Yes, sometimes I come up here to paint. Tom told me years ago that if I ever needed it, to just let Mrs. Anderson know. She’s kept watch over this place since before Tom was born.” She leaned back and rested her eyes. The sun had set, and Cole had turned on several lights.

“It’s not really a cabin,” Cole said from the other room.

She smiled. “It’s an inside joke.” She thought about all the times she and Amber had joked with Tom about the place. Even Aiden had gone in on it.

“So, it sounds like Tom’s stores are doing great.”

She opened her eyes and looked across the room at Cole. “Changing the subject?”

He rolled his eyes and dumped a box of crackers on a plate.

“Just trying to stay up to date.”

“What was the call about?” she asked.

He set the crackers and cheese in front of her.

“It was a warning. I was pulled into the office and briefed that a target might have been given my location.”

“Target?” She waited.

He sat down on the coffee table, his elbows resting on his knees.

“Someone I was supposed to turn in. I had a contact, in Paris, that had set up a meeting with someone who had an in. I can’t divulge too much, but my contact turned out to be someone we’ve been looking for for years and they ended up shooting me instead.”

“You were shot in Paris?” she asked, feeling her heart skip.

He nodded slowly and then reached across and touched her hand. “Right after I left you.”

“I… why didn’t you tell me? Call me?” She felt anger surface again.

“Well, for starters, I was out of it for a few weeks.” He motioned to his chest. “Remember? I’d just been shot.”

She thought about the scars on his chest. “How bad?”

She could tell he understood her question.

“Pretty bad,” he admitted. “It was touch and go. Three bullets had pierced through my vest and one had punctured my left lung.” He sighed. “But I got better, and they agreed to let me continue my mission.”

“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.