Page 19 of Stolen Summer
My mouth tightened. “You’re an asshole.”
“Something we can finally agree on.”
I needed something to break or hurl at his head. Throwing the flimsy tee had done nothing to alleviate the frustration mounting within me. “So, what do we do now? Other than try not to kill each other?”
He unscrewed the top of the bottle he had grabbed from the fridge. “What a feisty little kitty. I think I like you.”
“The same can’t be said for me.”
He chuckled a smoky, deep sound. “I’ll round up some candles. My mom has them scattered all over the damn house. Stay here.”
As if I could go anywhere. Cole took his phone and the light with him, leaving me alone in the kitchen. I shed my coat, my fingers fumbling in the dark as I hooked it on the back of a chair.
Ten seconds went by, my fingers tapping on the wood.
That was all I could stand. I had to do something. I couldn’t just stay here.
Using the table as I guide, I shuffled to the double doors, feeling my way around until my fingers collided with the handle, but try as I might, the damn thing wouldn’t budge, regardless of how much I shook it. And I shook the shit out of it.
Tears pricked the back of my eyes, a product of anger and distress. I didn’t want my dad to worry. Not being able to tell him I was okay would drive us both mad. And really, was I okay? Cole could murder me, and no one would suspect him.
Crying wouldn’t make the situation better.
I rubbed my eyes with the end of my sleeve. I had no makeup to worry about. The rain on my way to work had erased all traces. Taking a breath, I used my hands to follow the wall, remembering there was a trio of windows just off the dining nook. Nothing about my movements was graceful, but eventually, I got there, my fingers once again searching for the clasps. No matter which way I flipped the lock, the glass wouldn’t lift, but it did wobble. The fierce wind beat harder against the house, groaning and moaning like thousands of ghosts haunted the beach. The crashing of waves was harder to hear over the wild winds, but it was there, punishing the sand.
I couldn’t help but think of Dad and Sadie. They’d sheltered through many storms, and I tried to let that comfort me.
My back sunk against the wall, my head dropping back, feeling the vibrations of the wind.
What the fuck am I going to do locked inside a house for hours, days even, with Cole Riley?
Frankie would think this situation was a dream come true. I could hear her voice in my head. Holy shit, Arie. Imagine the opportunities to have sex with a Riley. You’ve been given a gift, bitch. You have to unwrap and open it.”
It would be just like my best friend to take a shitty condition and turn it into a sexual experiment. The idea of Cole being a gift for me to unwrap… yeah, it was a thought I needed to banish from my mind.
I wished I could call her, if only for her to make me laugh and distract me from the problem at hand.
I’d rather take my chances in a hurricane than be stuck inside this house with him.
What was I so afraid of?
A question I didn’t want to answer. It involved looking too deeply into myself, and I’d avoided doing that for years. Burying feelings worked for me. I had to keep it together. I needed to be strong—tough. That’s who I was.
My fists hit the wall at my sides. “Son of a bitch,” I muttered under my breath.
Chapter Seven
“I’ve been called worse.”
I jumped before whirling at Cole, his face illuminated by a taper candle he held in his hand. Shadows danced over his sinister features, and a chill crawled down my spine. Perhaps I should be worried about Cole killing me.
My body couldn’t seem to make up its mind whether Cole posed a threat to me or could make my body purr. He’d referred to me as a kitty, not a bad analogy when it came to him. He raised my hackles and summoned my claws, or he made me want to rub against him, purring.
I frowned. “Not surprising.”
He put the candle on the table with a pile of other items. “I found a few flashlights. Thought it might be easier moving around than carrying a lit candle. I wouldn’t want you to start the place on fire.”
A snort breezed through my nose as I shoved off the wall, moving toward him. “You should be concerned. I’m not just a burglar but a pyro as well.” I plucked a flashlight off the table.