Page 24 of Stolen Summer

He toyed with the bottle cap between his fingers. “You know, it’s okay to be reckless for one night. It won’t kill you.”

My throat closed at the surge of memories from the accident. “That’s where you’re wrong. It does have the power to kill.”

For a long moment, he watched me. “You’re talking about what happened to your dad.”

I pressed my lips together. Now he hit my sore spot, and I was the one who no longer wanted to talk. I grabbed the abandoned beer on the table and slammed it back. “Happy now?”

“No, not yet…but it’s a start.”

Why did he have to bring up my dad? The worry and anxiety came back like a tidal wave washing over me. I took another long drink, letting the feel-good buzz work its way into my system.

“What are you thinking about?”

I hadn’t noticed the silence until he asked the question. How long had I been lost in my head? My expression screwed up into a tight knot of irritation. “I’m wondering if I’m safe here with you. If you’ll rape me in my sleep.”

His scowl intensified. “If I wanted to rape you, I would have done so when I had you naked in the pool.”

“Valid point, but still doesn’t change that I’d rather die than be stuck here with you.” Using sarcasm was a safer route than the truth.

“Or…you want to kiss me, and that’s the problem,” he offered an alternative.

“Hmm,” I murmured, making it seem like I was considering it. “Not on your life.”

His laugh made my heart flip.

And that made me frown.

Chapter Nine

The day finally caught up with me. A yawn escaped my lips as I rested my head on a couch pillow, tucking my hands under my head. I curled my legs into a V, my eyes fluttering closed. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the warmth and coziness of the room lulled me into a deep slumber. That and the beer.

Was it three bottles or four?

Regardless, it was one too many. I rarely drank. Only occasionally at parties that Frankie dragged me to. She literally had to beg, bribe, and kidnap me into going. I still questioned how Frankie and I were best friends. We couldn’t be more opposite except when it came to being born to families who struggled. Our lack of money was why we bonded. That and being raised by single parents. For Frankie, it was her dad who ran out on them. Well, if you call serving time in prison running out.

I snuggled deeper into the softness underneath me, not yet ready to wake up, but a light scratching pestered the first peace I’d had in too long, pulling me out of a pleasant dream. It had been months since I slept without a nightmare. Years perhaps. I couldn’t remember. My nights were always tortured by guilt and horror.

I had no idea what time it was or how long I’d slept.

My lashes fluttered, and where I expected to find streams of light and my bed underneath me, darkness continued to invade the room. Was it still night? Had I not slept as long as I thought?

I blinked, the toasty air making the blanket draped over me unnecessary, and yet, my body wasn’t overheated. And this wasn’t my bedroom. Wind whistled as a light tapping reverberated against the windows.

The Rileys.

Cole.

The thought pulled my gaze up, my eyes finding him in the dark. He sat on the coffee table, closer than I liked. His head was bent over a sketch pad. Serious lines creased his forehead, and a lock of dark hair fell to one side. His fingers worked over the paper, a piece of charcoal in his hand. I couldn’t look away. The glow from the fire cast shadows on half of his face. This was a side of Cole I never expected—a softer, creative side. He put me in a quandary. Was he the devil? Or a hidden artist? It reminded me how little I knew of Cole.

Using his thumb, he smeared the pad over the page, and I longed to see what he drew. What was his inspiration?

His gaze lifted from the paper to me, and his fingers ceased moving. As cliché as it was, I stopped breathing. The way he looked at me left me confused.

Rumpled from sleep, my hair needed a brush, my face probably had pillow markings on it, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d been snoring before I woke up, and yet…Cole’s gaze made me feel more beautiful than I’d ever felt.

I remained still, captured by him, and the intensity in his eyes held my breath.

Neither of us said a word, but a whole lot transpired between us. Most of which I didn’t understand.