Chapter 28
NELLY
A soft knock on the bathroom door sent my heart ricocheting against my ribs like a rubber ball in a small room.
I'd been so lost in my thoughts, in the despair that I Had no one to turn to, that I’d not heard anyone approach.
I furtively glanced at the medicine cabinet.
I’d closed it, but had I moved anything around?
Had I left it the same way I found it? If I hadn’t, they’d know I’d snooped through it.
No time to check.
I turned towards the door, gripping the pedestal stink to steady myself.
"Yes?" The word came out cracked and hoarse.
"Kept some food warm for you. You’ve got to be hungry. You didn’t touch last night’s food." The voice was deep, with a hint of cheerfulness that felt out of place. Cooper.
My stomach chose that moment to growl audibly.
“Traitor,” I whispered angrily, softy hitting my abdomen with a closed fist, “breakfast yesterday wasn’t that long ago.” I wanted to reject anything more they offered me, but there was biology again, being a jerk.
"I'm not hungry," I mumbled, uncertain if my voice was loud enough to carry through the solid wooden door. My stomach gave a second, audible grumble of protest.
“Was that a mountain lion growl then? Did it follow you inside last night?” A note of teasing laced the questions. But it didn’t make me laugh. It only made me pissed. The guy did not have the right audience for his lame jokes. I said nothing.
"Come on, Nell. You've got to be hungry," Cooper finally spoke again, a note of insistence in his voice now.
He sounded closer too, as if he were right outside the door, maybe pressed against it.
“Look, hate us, and this situation all you want, but starving yourself won't do you any favors the next time you decide to take a midnight run without a weapon wearing a pair of my giant boots.”
I blinked, taken aback by his directness. No platitudes about how I didn't need to worry about escaping, no false reassurances that this was my home now. Just a practical acknowledgment that I would try again, and that I'd need my strength when I did.
My mind shuffled through potential responses, discarding each as too revealing or too vulnerable.
The truth was, he was right. I’d already been over this in my head once.
I had to eat and keep my strength. So, I gave in.
The same damn way I had with breakfast yesterday.
The same damn way I kept giving in for some reason.
Then it hit me that he called me Nell, not Nelly.
“My name is Nelly,” I breathed out, letting him know I was irritated about more than just the nickname. “We’re not buddies.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed, “not buddies at all. I’m just your enemy that wants you to eat before another battle.”
What was it with this asshole? Did he really think the joking and teasing might win me over?
"Fine," I said, opening the door with more force than necessary, as if I could physically push back against my own capitulation.
Cooper wasn’t leaning against the door. I sort of wish he had been, and my abrupt exit would cause him to fall on his ass.
But no, he stood in the hallway, a good six inches taller than me, his dirty blond hair braided down his back, looking ruggedly handsome.
I wanted to punch the crooked smile from his face.
But I couldn’t even clench my fist. The guy smelled like cinnamon buns and maple syrup.
My freaking knees went weak at the sight and smell of him!
He wore a button-down, the arms rolled up to show off his tattoos and biceps.
I wanted to hate how the red fabric somehow brought out the silver flecks in his dark blue eyes, how the material stretched across his broad chest in a way that emphasized every ridge of muscle beneath, how the undone buttons at the neck made me want to unbutton the rest, and how his sharp jaw was something out of a damn action movie.
I wanted to feel nothing but contempt for the easy confidence in his stance and the way he looked at me like nothing was wrong in the world, and we were all exactly where we should be.
I.
Wanted.
To. Hate.
Everything.
But the sight of his tattooed forearms made something flutter in my chest. A stack of pancakes.
A knife and fork. An almost cartoon style cheeseburger with wings.
Goofy, but they fit him. My traitorous Omega side registered every inch of what he was offering.
The rippling strength, kissable mouth, the gourmand scent clinging to him as if he’d just finished baking, which maybe he had.
My stomach clenched, no longer just hungry for food.
I crushed the reaction. I would not be attracted to any of these men.
I refused to let my biology keep overriding my common fucking sense.
"There she is," he said, that sly grin widening as he took in my appearance. "Looking cozy in my swim trunks."
My face warmed, cheeks most likely turning a jarring shade of pink. “These shorts are stupid,” I said, stumbling over the words, feeling like an idiot. Why couldn’t I think of something more hateful?
"There's a plate warming in the oven," he said, ignoring my thin jab as if it were no more than a grain of rice lobbed at his head. Couldn’t hurt him. Probably nothing I could do would hurt him. Or any of them for that matter. Big, powerful Alphas. Able to do whatever they wanted in life.
“Thought you could eat in the kitchen,” he continued.
“The tray in the room works fine.”
“Firstly, I’m not running a Bed and Breakfast. Secondly, I want to make sure you eat.” His eyes flicked down, taking in the sight of me again.
God, help me. The way his gaze darkened for a heartbeat, and the way his tongue darted out to dampen his lower lip like all he saw in front of him was the best thing he might ever eat, made me want to jump his bones despite my better judgement.
I crossed my arms over my chest. The childish lobster shorts were slipping down, and the thin shirt did nothing to conceal the hardening of my nipples. Stupid. Lustful. Omega.
“You seem chipper. Your buddy asleep in the hall must be jealous.”
“Boone?” Cooper quirked an eyebrow. “He stayed out guarding against the mountain lion longer than the rest of us. He does that anytime we might have to kill something to keep the cattle safe. He tries to track the animal, spook it away if possible. If we got to kill it, he makes sure to bury it properly.”
“I’m not sorry about trying to run away,” I bit out, as if Cooper was trying to make me feel guilty that Boone was exhausted.
“You shouldn’t be,” Cooper nodded, “you alerted us to the mountain lion. Might have lost a cow without you.”
“I… what… I wasn’t trying to help you!” I sputtered out the words.
“Could have fooled me.” He shrugged. “But anyways, Boone grew up on reservation land. He can go without sleep for a long time, and track anything for miles.” Cooper turned around, giving me his back. I stood there, mouth gaping open, as he trailed down the hallway.
Why did that ‘track anything for miles’ part sound like both a threat and promise?
On top of that, the new piece of information about Boone made me realize that any future escape attempts would need to account for his expertise.
For all their expertise. There was no denying each of them knew this land better than I did.
They knew how to fire guns. Track predators.
I was a ballet dancer so far out of her depth she was probably going to drown.
"I'm only going to eat because I need my strength!" I called after Cooper as he stepped carefully over Boone.
The words were for me, not him. I wanted to lie to myself that I wasn’t surrendering or accepting the situation by eating his damn food.
I started following, moving faster than he was so I could catch up and not lose my way.
That made my feet ache fiercely, but I refused to slow my pace.
As I also walked over Boone’s now outstretched legs—wincing at the extra pressure momentarily supporting my entire wait on one foot caused—I marveled at what a sound sleeper the man was. Even my shout hadn’t stirred him awake.
"Sure," Cooper’s voice trailed back to me from wherever he was now. "Makes sense."
His easy agreement, without argument or condescension, threw me off balance.
I followed faster, taking the path he had while my mind tried to figure out what kind of tactic he was using.
Not microaggressions and intimidation, just humor and capitulation.
Caught in my thoughts, I slammed into the wall of his back.
“Ugh!” I grunted, stumbling backward. Cooper turned quickly, snagging my waist and steadying me. The corner of his mouth lifted in a slight smirk. I pushed him away. “Don’t touch me.” I sounded like a cornered animal, only ferocious out of fear.
“No problem. I’ll let you fall next time.” He winked, turning back around and walking away, not checking to see if I’d still follow. I did. I did because I was hungry, and now more embarrassed than ever.
As I trailed behind him by a few feet, we moved through the living room.
I catalogued details I'd missed before. A row of boots by the front door.
A bookshelf filled with volumes on animals, agriculture, and a contrasting collection of fiction.
A hand-knit blanket thrown over the back of a worn leather couch.
Hooks on one wall, some of them supporting cowboy hats.
Signs of life. Of real people with varied interests and habits. Not asshole Alphas who’d participated in human trafficking, but instead men who read about elves while sitting under heirloom blankets in front of a fire.