Page 31 of Stolen Summer
I lifted my gaze from the plate, noticing the swirl pattern I’d been making with the sauce. Over the last day, Cole and his antics had taken up so much space in my mind I hadn’t stressed about my dad as I normally would have. “I’m not usually gone this long, and he doesn’t know where I am.”
“Has it always been the two of you?” he asked, his plate nearly clean.
“Since I was six,” I retorted, picking up the refreshed glass of wine.
Dropping his fork onto his plate, he picked up the bottle of wine, forgoing the glass, and sat back in his chair. “And your mom?”
It was a normal question and yet one I always dreaded answering. I shrugged, ignoring the squeezing inside my chest. “Who knows. She could be dead or have a new family.”
His lips wrapped around the bottle opening, and he tipped his head back, taking a long drink. I couldn’t stop staring at his mouth. “I sense some abandonment issues.”
What is wrong with me? Stop eyeing his lips like they are covered in sugar and you want to lick it off. “Shut up. What about you? Are you close with your parents?” I asked, turning the interrogation on him. I had enough with talking about me, considering I wasn’t much of a sharer.
“Hardly,” he snorted.
“You mean behind the gilded walls isn’t a perfect family?”
The chair groaned under his weight as he shifted to get more comfortable. “Money doesn’t make a family close. If anything, in my experience, it tears them apart.”
Now we were getting somewhere. Keeping my glass in hand, I pulled my legs up underneath me on the plush seat. “Is that why you’re here? Avoiding your family?”
“More like a banishment.”
I made an are-you-kidding-me expression. “Excuse me. This is considered a banishment. Most kids get sent to their rooms. You get sent to another fucking house?” He had to realize how insane that was.
Cole’s lips formed a straight line, and his voice went flat. “Distance is key in my family, which is why I need you.”
“Need me how exactly?” Suspicion edged into my tone. I learned long ago never to trust the summer assholes.
Dark shadows curled in his eyes. “The truth?”
“No, I prefer lies,” I said cheekily.
“Who doesn’t?” he retorted without taking a breath.
I hated to admit bantering with Cole did something to me inside. My stomach fluttered, and I wanted it to stop. “Does this have anything to do with the bet? Why would you need me to stay here?”
The silence of the flickering candles crept in. “I have my reasons,” he finally said.
Looked like I hit a sore spot. I’d started to think he didn’t have any, and it pleased me too much. “And you don’t want to share them with me?”
From the unyielding line of his lips, I thought he would shut down. To my surprise, he didn’t. “Living up to our parents’ expectations can be brutal, especially if you’re the son of Rowan Riley,” he replied, projecting an outward I-don’t-give-a-shit calm that betrayed the tightness of his mouth.
“Your father?” I guessed.
He took another heavy pull from the bottle, giving me a measured once-over. “Screw the bet. Why don’t we help each other instead.”
Me, enter a bargain with Cole? Why did that feel like signing a deal with the devil? “What do you have that I want?” The wine was for sure going to my head. Why else would I even entertain the idea of an agreement with Cole Riley?
I hated guys like him.
A cocky smirk fell in place on those full lips, the silver hoop winking under candlelight. “The obvious. Money. I imagine all those hospital and medical bills are stacking up. I can help you with those. If you help me.”
“How about fuck off,” I casually suggested, lifting a brow at him.
He set the bottle on the table, leaning forward in his chair. “Don’t be so stubborn, Killer. This isn’t a pity offer. Like I said, I want something in exchange. Think of it as a job if it helps.”
“It doesn’t,” I snapped, licking a drop of wine off my lips.