Page 22 of Stolen Summer

Feeling braver and more in control of my emotions, I opened the door, waving my flashlight down the hallway. This time, no one jumped out at me or pressed me into the wall. I’d call that progress.

Shadows drew me toward the living room, in the opposite direction of the kitchen. They twirled and curled on the walls, and I was entranced by the warm glow burning brighter the closer I came. I never thought I feared the dark, but the prospect of spending days in it without seeing the sun made me feel claustrophobic.

Ironic considering the size of this house. Maybe it was too much space for a girl whose bedroom was just barely big enough to fit a bed and dresser. I didn’t know what to do with all the extra legroom.

Clicking off the flashlight, I turned the corner and paused, swallowing a gasp. I didn’t know what I thought I would find, but seeing Cole sprawled out on one of the couches, surrounded by dozens of candles and a low-burning fire had me rethinking leaving the bathroom.

It was safer there than here because every inch of Cole Riley oozed trouble.

He lifted a bottle to his lips. The prick would make it look like he was shooting a sexy liquor commercial. Not going to lie, but I wanted to buy a lifetime supply.

I’d never been so hot and cold with a guy before.

It couldn’t be normal to be intrigued by someone you wanted to cause bodily harm to.

I must have sighed or made some sort of dreamy sound that summoned his gaze. His mouth tipped when he saw me standing at the edge of the room, watching him.

How was I supposed to act, and what was I supposed to do? I was a virtual stranger who’d broken into his house. Despite being familiar with the layout, it wasn’t mine, and freely roaming around with Cole here felt invasive on both parts.

“Do you want a drink?” he asked after swallowing from his bottle.

“Is it cold?” I asked, my body suddenly flushed.

His lips twitched. “You’ll have to find out.”

I hated the way he always seemed to know what was on my mind. Was my face that readable?

With nothing to lose, I sauntered into the room, my eyes staying on Cole’s. When I drew close enough, he leaned over the side of the couch and plucked a bottle from a bucket of ice. He twisted off the cap with ease, the beer hissing from the release, and handed the bottle to me.

“Thanks,” I muttered, the perspiration clinging to the bottle cooling my hand. I sat on the other couch parallel to the one he lounged on. My lips touched the glass, and I took a swig. On the coffee table between us, a spread of cheese, crackers, and sausages was arranged on a platter, bits and pieces picked over. I glanced at him over my bottle. “How old are you?”

Cole stuck an arm behind his head, angling his head toward me. “Twenty-one. You?”

Plush cushions shifted underneath me as I got comfortable. It was too nice of a couch to sit on, and I feared I would get dirt on it. “Twenty,” I replied. “What college do you go to?” I didn’t know what I was doing. Making small talk, I guessed, but I didn’t understand why. Did I really give a shit?

“What makes you think I’m in school?” Why did everything out of his mouth feel like a challenge?

Pretentious as fuck. No surprise.

I tried to keep the disdain from my features and failed. “I don’t know what to do,” I admitted. “This has never happened to me.”

The awkward silence I tried to avoid descended. Cole stared at me, our eyes locking in a firelit glance too cozy for strangers. “You could eat,” he finally said, waving his beer bottle at the food on the coffee table. “Don’t worry about running out of food. The fridge and pantry are fully stocked. We won’t starve. Not unless we get stuck here for weeks.”

I pulled my legs up underneath me, leaning against the couch arm, ignoring the snacks. “You don’t suck at this. Let me guess, you were a boy scout.” My stomach chose right then to voice how hungry it suddenly was. Little bitch.

He snorted. “Does anything about me give you the impression that I live by a code of honor?”

“No,” I admitted, my throat remembering the press of his fingers. “You have two brothers.”

“Yeah. Eat,” he ordered, his brows solemn.

I plucked a piece of cheese from the platter. “And where are they? Why aren’t they here with you for the summer?”

He swung his legs over the side of the couch and sat up, suspicion in his gaze. “You’re asking a lot of personal questions without offering anything about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?”

Leaning into the cushions, he draped an arm over the back, his lips twisting. “What’s your favorite sex position?”