Page 27 of Resist

Because he’d walked in and…

Fuck.

He should have taken her to the hospital, and he should have called the cops. He wasn’t sure why he’d let her talk him out of it.

“I smelled bacon.”

He turned at the sound of her voice. Ainsley stood in the doorway of the kitchen, her arms crossed, looking decidedly rumpled and maybe even grumpy. She was dressed in her jeans but still wore his T-shirt. He liked seeing her in his clothing.

What he didn’t like was the dark bruise covering nearly her entire right cheek.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said as cheerfully as he could muster, despite the murderous thoughts racing through his brain of what he’d do if he ever ran into Mario and Luigi.

She grunted. “Oh God. You’re one of those morning people, aren’t you?”

He was, but he didn’t bother to admit it. Instead, Coulton chuckled as he slid a couple of pancakes onto a plate and set it in the same place she sat last night. Then he carried over the platter of bacon he’d fried. “There’s butter and syrup, but if you want something else, let me know.”

Ainsley looked at the plate like it was a snake. “You made me breakfast?”

“Of course, I did. You want coffee?”

“Yes, please,” she said, looking like a dog begging for a treat.

He grabbed the pot and filled a large mug. “Cream or sugar?”

She shook her head. “Drink it black.”

Coulton handed her the mug. “Me too.”

“What time is it?” she asked.

Coulton glanced at the clock on the stove. “Eight thirty.”

“Jesus Christ. How are you functioning?” Ainsley didn’t wait for a response as she slid onto the stool, buttering her pancakes.

Coulton joined her, adding bacon to his own plate. It was nice having her here. He’d never shared breakfast with a woman in this kitchen.

Ainsley hummed her appreciation after the first bite. “Mmm. These are so good.”

He smiled. “Glad you like them. I packed up the rest of your salad from last night. It’s in the fridge if you want to take it home for lunch. Figure it’s better for you than those damn pizza bites.”

She gave him that confused look he was becoming familiar with, the one that had him convinced no one had ever done anything thoughtful just for her. He hated it, hated thinking that she’d lived so long without a simple thing like kindness.

“How old are you?” he asked, suddenly curious.

“Twenty-four. What about you?”

“Thirty-two.”

Ainsley continued eating. Fast. Too fast.

He placed his hand over hers just as she was about to shove a third piece of pancake into her mouth before chewing and swallowing the first two. “Slow down, wildcat, or you’ll choke.”

She put down her fork and took a sip of coffee. “I’m just trying to get out of your hair. I’m sure you have stuff you need to do, and I’ve already overstayed my welcome.”

“I don’t have anything to do,” he said, determined to learn more about Ainsley. “We have a game tonight, so I don’t have to be at the arena until later this afternoon. My morning is wide open. And you’ll never overstay your welcome.”

“Oh. Okay. Cool.” She glanced toward the door to the kitchen, though she looked less intent on making an escape.

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