Page 120 of Knot Like Other Girls

"We have connections," Roman says mysteriously, but the corner of his mouth twitches with suppressed amusement.

"What Roman means is that the airfield manager's wife runs a bakery and we're good tippers," Liam explains, grabbing two pastries at once.

I bite into my own chocolate pastry. It's impossibly flaky, the rich filling melting on my tongue. A genuine purr escapes before I can fully stifle it.

"Good, right?" Troy looks like a puppy seeking approval, his eyes bright with satisfaction.

"Incredible," I admit, licking a bit of chocolate from my thumb. All eyes are on me now and I don't know if I should beembarrassed or not. "I haven't had a pastry this good since... actually, I can't remember when."

Braxley's world was all protein shakes and "clean eating," unless it was a cheat day that needed to be documented for his followers. Spontaneous indulgences weren't part of the carefully controlled nutritional narrative he presented to the world.

"The Vanguard Pack travel experience includes gourmet dining," Troy says with an exaggerated bow from his seat. "Just wait till you see what we can whip up at the safe house. I've been perfecting my paella recipe for years."

"He's not lying," Liam chimes in, already halfway through his second pastry. "The lad can cook."

Cole isn't eating. Just watching me. I offer him a smile and his gaze softens, but he's still looking at me like I'm much more enticing than any pastry. My cheeks flush under his gaze and I look away, suddenly feeling shy.

Is he remembering what I did with my mouth in the shower?

The moment is broken by the plane dipping slightly, a change in altitude that makes my stomach lurch unexpectedly. My knuckles go white on the armrests, the fear of flying I'd almost forgotten surging back with a vengeance.

"We're just adjusting course," Savva says calmly, his hand covering mine. "Nothing to worry about."

I nod, trying to believe him, but my heart is racing again, my breathing shallow and quick. So much for my brief period of bravery.

"Hey," Cole's voice cuts through my rising panic. "Look at me."

Pleasantly surprised he wants me to, I do, finding his mismatched eyes steady and sure. He holds my gaze, anchoring me.

"Breathe with me," he instructs quietly. He demonstrates. In for four counts, hold for seven, out for eight. I follow his lead, matching my breathing to his.

"That's it," he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing rumble. "Just like that."

Slowly, the panic recedes. The plane levels out, and with it, my breathing steadies. Cole doesn't look away, doesn't break the connection until he's sure I'm calm again.

"Better?" he asks.

"Yes," I say, my voice steadier than I expected. "Thank you."

He nods, that same sharp movement, but there's a softness in his expression that makes my heart twist in my chest. I've never had someone notice my distress so quickly, respond to it so effectively. For someone who spent most of his time avoiding me until recently, Cole is remarkably attuned to my needs.

"We should be landing in about forty minutes," Roman announces, checking his watch. "The safe house is a twenty minute drive from the airstrip."

"Where exactly are we going?" I ask, realizing I never bothered to find out our destination.

"Washington coast," Troy replies, grinning. "Our little slice of nowhere, with an ocean view. Nearest neighbor is five miles away."

"Sounds peaceful," I murmur, trying to imagine it. After the constant noise and stimulation of Los Angeles, of Braxley's penthouse with its never-ending parade of delivery people and assistants, the idea of isolation is deeply appealing.

"Peaceful but not primitive," Savva assures me, his lips curving into a smile. "We have all modern amenities. High-speed internet and a security system that would make the Pentagon jealous."

"Top of the line kitchen," Troy adds. "Hope you like fish. There's a fresh catch every morning."

"You fish?" I ask, trying to picture these lethal alphas doing something so... ordinary.

"Cole does," Troy says, jerking a thumb toward him. Cole's eyes narrow slightly, like he'd rather not have attention called to that. "Man can sit in a boat for six hours without moving a muscle. It's uncanny."

I glance at Cole, surprised again. I keep discovering new facets to him—the carver, the fisherman, the protector, the lover. Each layer revealed feels like a gift, a piece of a complex puzzle I'm just beginning to solve.

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