Authors: Kimberly,Kayla Woodhouse
“So . . . spill it. I’m right, I told you so, and all that jazz. Now the real question is: What are you going to do about it?” Jenna popped a spoon of ice cream into her mouth and smiled around it.
Anesia lifted her thick braid over her shoulder. “I don’t know. I noticed him most definitely when he first arrived, but I thought he was too good looking, you know? Like he wouldn’t have a brain or have any substance whatsoever. Then I find out the guy’s been to Harvard and was a VP for CROM. Then he had to go and love the dogs, the kennel, the job—he’s so stinkin’ helpful. The attraction started inching its way in. But with everything we’ve been through . . . first Marc, and then you and Andie, and now the mess with Zoya witnessing that murder . . . I just don’t know.”
“It’s okay to allow yourself to fall in love, Anesia.”
“I made a vow, Jenna.” Her words sounded harsh to her own ears.
“I know. But the vow was to the Lord, to stay pure until marriage. Not a vow to never allow yourself to love again.”
Her friend could never know the truth. That she didn’t trust herself. She was too passionate. That couldn’t be honoring to God. And she didn’t want to lose herself again. Couldn’t forgive herself.
Jenna patted her arm and walked toward the dining room. “I hope you all are ready to get trounced, because I aim to win tonight.”
Anesia stood there for a moment longer and pulled a long breath into her lungs. Was she that attracted to Sean? She shook her head. There wasn’t any room for these thoughts right now. Sean was her employee. And her friend. She wouldn’t allow herself to go any farther than that.
Besides, she’d made a vow. One she didn’t want to risk breaking.
CHAPTER TWENTY
SEAN
January 24
7:54 a.m.
Loosen up.
As he drove to the kennel, Sean couldn’t get Cole’s words out of his head. Loosen up, indeed. Cole had no idea what kind of world he’d lived in all these years. On the surface, it looked enviable. Living in a mansion, surrounded by staff. Hosting elegant fundraisers where the tickets sold for $2,500 a head. Attending coveted dinner parties with politicians.
And his office. A nice little 1500-square-foot corner suite at the top of CROM tower, with walls of windows, two full-time secretaries he didn’t need, and enough technology to run a small country.
He’d come to hate it all.
Cole was right. He
was
stiff. His whole life had been stiff. Rigid. Trapped in the confines of lies and deceit he hadn’t even known were binding him. But he was free now. So why did he still feel . . . imprisoned?
Maybe he should take up watching television. See how the real world lived. Isn’t that what most Americans spent their free time doing?
Then again, he’d rather not. The few channels he’d flipped to other than his favorite ESPN were filled with reality shows that seemed about as far removed from reality as the moon was from the earth.
He was stuck.
His father’s words raced back into his mind. His gut churned. Then the message in the bathroom mirror drifted into his mind.
The churn turned into a rolling boil.
“Stop!”
He slammed his fist against the dashboard. But the growing fury remained.
All those years he’d worked under his father’s thumb, stuffing his frustration. His resentment. It wasn’t until he broke free, until he was days into his trek across country, that the rage finally erupted. And kept erupting. Sometimes when he least expected it.
He’d gotten good at holding it all in until he was alone, but that wasn’t the answer and he knew it
God, I’m done with that life! Why can’t I let the anger go?
No answer. Well, what had he expected? More and more lately, when he prayed, that was the result. Silence. Like God’s words to him were somehow being blocked . . .
Not blocked. Deflected.
Sean frowned. Deflected? By what?
But even as he asked the silent question, he knew.
By him.
By his anger.
For months he’d wrestled with this burden. The ever-increasing weight pressed into his shoulders with every mile he’d walked. And now . . . that weight had seemed to turn to brick and mortar and stack into an invisible wall.
One that has come between you and God.
The thought brought him up short. He pulled over onto the side of the road. Shut off the engine. And sat there. Taking in the truth.
His anger—and refusal to let go of it—was getting in the way of his relationship with God. The walls, the distance he felt, were of his own making. The rage inside him toward his earthly father waged a battle against his yearning for a closer relationship with his heavenly Father. Instead of allowing himself to heal after cutting the ties with CROM, with his father, he’d fed the growing infection until it festered. And the pain of that was all he could feel. The raging of that resentment was all he heard.
Sean leaned his head back against the seat.
He needed to throw off his old self. Completely. And that meant forgiving his father—and himself—and letting go of the years of bitterness and resentment. Because he wasn’t that person anymore. The person controlled by lies.
The person who hated.
For the first time in his life, he felt real.
This
was the real Sean. Hardworking. Starting over. So maybe he shouldn’t worry about what anyone thought. He needed to be himself. Even if he needed loosening up. Certainly a few months with the incredible people at Naltsiine Kennels could help him.
Father . . . help me. Help me let go of the past and savor the present You’ve given me. I keep struggling with anger and it pushes me away from You. I don’t know why I can’t conquer this, but You do, Lord. You can help me get past this. Just show me what You would have me do.
He let loose a sigh, then turned the key in the ignition and pulled back onto the road, a fresh peace filling him.
The drive to the property from his hotel would be the last. Over the past few days, Anesia had the cabin cleaned, he’d bought furniture and necessities, and he’d even installed Wi-Fi. The race this weekend wore him out, but the last of his new furniture would be delivered this morning. He would finally settle in.
A basket sat on the seat next to him. Wanda at the hotel sent him off in style with fresh fruit, dozens of cookies, and a couple books about Alaska and racing. What a neat lady. She’d always had a smile for him, sacrificed time and energy to help him. He needed to do something special for her. Maybe he’d ask Anesia to help him come up with a few ideas.
He arrived at the long driveway that would take him to his new home.
Home.
A wonderful word. But more than the word was the feeling it evoked. A feeling he’d never experienced.
He belonged.
Here.
With these wonderful people.
Anesia and Zoya bounced down the front steps, pulling on coats as he pulled in front of the house. More purchases from town loaded down the bed of his truck.
He pressed the button to lower his window. “Hey there. This is a nice welcome.”
Anesia beamed. “Well, you deserve it. We want to get you comfortable in your new place.” She wrapped an arm around her daughter’s shoulder. “What can we do to help?”
“Would you like to hop in the truck and ride with me to the cabin?”
Zoya giggled and covered her mouth.
Sean smiled. Laughter and smiles seemed to come easily here. “What?”
“You said ‘hop.’” She snorted and laughed harder. “It’s so . . . normal. You’re usually so proper, it just made me laugh.”
“I did indeed.” His laughter joined hers. “Guess I might be learning to be a little more laid-back after all.” He opened his door so he could walk around the truck and open the passenger door for the ladies.
Anesia must have anticipated his move because she stopped him with a hand to his arm. “No need. We’ll
hop
in.”
Girlish giggles permeated his truck as he drove around to the cabin. His cabin. It all made him feel more a part of this family. Moving here also gave him a sense of providing. Protecting. Senses that were innate in men awakened with new strength. New desire. They’d always been stripped from him with his father. As if his own manhood had been taken away. In fact, if he were quite honest, he’d not wanted to admit that he often felt like his father owned him. And no man should ever
—ever
—have to feel that way.
After the incident on the picnic, Sean wanted to protect these two. Cole had been a great example. This is where he belonged. This is what he needed to do.
The whole crew tromped up the steps to his domain. He inserted the key into the dead bolt and opened the door for the ladies with a bow.
“Why thank you, Sir Connolly.” Anesia curtsied before entering.
“You’re so weird.” Zoya giggled.
“Zoya
Sabiile’
!” Hands on her hips, Anesia looked ready to pounce on her teen.
Zoya appeared to be trying to squelch her laughter and smile after a glance at her mom who still wore her scolding expression. “Sorry, Sean. I didn’t mean it. I’m just not used to all the manners.”
Sean laughed. “Didn’t you tell me that your daughter was very quiet and shy? Didn’t really talk to people?” He winked at Anesia. “So”—he tweaked Zoya’s nose—“I’ll just take your words as a sincere gesture that you trust me. Perhaps even like me?”
The young girl erupted in laughter that doubled her over as she sat on the couch.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Anesia just smiled at him, her big brown eyes twinkling, and headed back out to the truck for another load.
So beautiful. He shook his head. She was his boss. He couldn’t be thinking of her in that way. Well, he
shouldn’t
. But she
was
beautiful.
Change the subject.
“So, what does Sa-bee-lah mean?”
“Sabiile’?” Anesia grabbed a few more Walmart bags out of the back. “It means rainbow.”
“Wow, that’s very pretty. And unique.” He ordered his mind not to watch the way she walked, the way she flung her braid over her shoulder, or how she scrunched up her nose whenever she lifted anything.
“Thank you. It’s Ahtna. Just like our last name. There aren’t many of us left, so I wanted to make sure she carried on the heritage of the Athabaskan with her name even if she married and dropped the Naltsiine part. Her first name isn’t a native name—has more of a history with the Russian people here—but it means
life
and that meant a lot to me.”
“Very nice.”
They traipsed up and down the steps several times, carrying on with the small talk.
On the last load Anesia placed the box she carried on the table and winked at Zoya. The younger Naltsiine headed out the door and around the cabin. When she came back in, she held some sort of insulated bag.
Zoya bounced up and down. “Welcome home, Sean!” She held out the bag.
Speechless, he took the proffered gift, but stood stiff, not sure what to do next.
“You’re supposed to open it.” Anesia just shook her head as she stood in front of him and opened the zippered compartment. “We had Derek hide it over here on the back porch a few minutes before you arrived.”
Steam and delicious smells rose to his nostrils.
“It’s coffee cake. And Jenna’s famous peanut butter bars. And”—she pulled the steaming tray out—“homemade Lumpia.”
“Wow.” He found his tongue. “I don’t know what to say. It all smells so delicious.” He looked down into Anesia’s eyes. “Thank you. But what’s Lumpia?”
“It’s Filipino. A friend of mine taught me how to make them. Kinda like an eggroll, but filled with beef and veggies. And I’m the one who should be thanking you. I can’t tell you what it means to have you here.”
And for just a moment he caught a glimpse of what he thought was attraction, coming from the eyes of the most beautiful woman he’d ever known. His heart soared.
He really was
home
.
COLE
January 24
Richardson Highway
6:47 p.m.
The truck barreled down the highway toward North Pole. What a rotten day. The pressure was on, and he wasn’t a millimeter closer to discovering the code. And to top it all off, intel came back on the murder Zoya witnessed. The FBI wouldn’t allow him to give the details to Anesia—fearing it might incite panic in the already paranoid mom—but Agent Philips cleared Cole to give Sean enough information to help protect the Naltsiine girls.
He looked down at the speedometer. Once again, he was speeding. A lot. Jenna always harassed him about having a lead foot.
He eased his right foot off the accelerator. Needed to keep his aggravation under control. He wouldn’t be any good to anybody if he ended up dead from a careless accident. Especially on the icy roads.
The miles disappeared as he ran over the details in his mind. Anesia and Zoya needed constant protection. But the FBI didn’t have anyone to spare, every available man was on the case. They also wanted to prevent panicking the Naltsiines.
When Anesia found out though, she would skin him alive.
Jenna would help.
And
Andie.
Wasn’t looking forward to
her
finding out. A teenager protective of her best friend? Oh yeah. Dead meat would be his new name.
Too complicated.
Marc, did you ever have any idea what all this would cause?
Cole slammed his palm on the steering wheel. What a mess.
He punched the speed-dial for Anesia’s home.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Anesia, it’s Cole. I need to talk to Sean, does he have a landline out in the cabin yet?”
“Yep, he sure does. But he’s standing right here. Let me put him on.”
“That’d be great.”
A rustling noise came over the line as the handset was passed. “Hey, Cole. What can I do for you?”
“Hey, Sean. Can you meet me at your cabin in about twenty minutes?”
“Sure—”
“Tell Anesia we want to do some guy stuff.”
“All right.” Sean’s words were hesitant and drawn out.
Cole worked through an idea in his mind. “Do you have the satellite set up yet?”