Page 37 of Stolen Summer
“Harsh, Quinn. I missed your chaotic nature.” Nothing about his expression indicated his feelings or ego suffered.
I glanced over the room, checking to see if I’d forgotten anything, but I had brought nothing with me. “Funny. It’s only been a few hours.”
“I know,” he replied stonily.
Dressed, I pulled my gaze from Cole spread out on the bed like a damn centerfold. I had to leave now, or God help me, I’d crawl back under the sheets and forget why sleeping with him was a bad idea.
“Quinn.”
I halted in the doorway at the sharp sound of my name, grabbing the frame as I twisted my head, steeling myself for another glimpse of my devilish neighbor.
His damn smirk turned into a grin. “I’m going to need those clothes back.”
I felt my lips twitch, but I restrained the amusement from slipping free and gave him the finger. Again.
Chapter Thirteen
Mild winds whipped off the ocean, slapping at my cheeks as I rushed across the sand, the granules squishing between my toes and kicking up behind my heels. I hadn’t bothered to put on my boots when leaving the Rileys’ house. They weren’t important.
Not as important as seeing Dad.
Any other time when urgency didn’t lick through my veins, I would have stopped to appreciate the sun glowing on my skin. My eyes adjusted to the brightness after living in the dark for so many hours. I loved the sun, and its radiance rejuvenated my soul.
I hadn’t realized tears pooled in my eyes until one streamed down my cheek, landing on my lip. I tasted the saltiness.
Our house didn’t appear to have suffered any damage. All the important parts were intact—the roof, the siding, and the windows. There might be a few missing shingles scattered on the beach, along with overturned patio furniture that hadn’t been secured in time, but overall, the house had survived another storm.
My heart sank when I spotted the car parked in my driveway. Seeing the cops at your house never instilled a good feeling.
Fingers shaking, I fumbled with the front door. “Dad!” I called the second I thrust it open. “Dad!” I said again as I broke around the corner.
With frantic eyes, I searched the house until my gaze landed on Dad, and my shoulders sagged. He sat in his wheelchair beside Sadie at the table. Her fingers were laced with his as they spoke with the sheriff standing in our kitchen.
Every head in the room whirled at my barreling approach. I’d come to a skidding halt, my sand-dusted toes sliding over the smooth floors, something I’d done a million times. Living on the beach meant everything was perpetually covered in sand.
“Arie,” Dad sighed in relief, the lower half of his face covered in stubble, and his gray eyes, so like mine, widened. “Oh, thank God. You’re alive. I thought—” His voice broke off, choking on emotion.
I understood the feeling well, swiping at the tears falling more freely down my face. “I’m sorry, Dad,” I sobbed, moving into the kitchen and bypassing the sheriff to hug my father.
“Oh, Arie.” Sadie’s hands flew over her mouth in a gasp, only to be followed by a burst of tears gathering in her glistening cornflower-blue eyes.
Dad gave me a long squeeze before I moved to hug Sadie as well. She looked like she’d kill me if I didn’t. From the exhaustion on their faces, I knew I’d put them through hell.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, my voice hitching. Sadie’s lilac scent engulfed me nearly as tightly as her arms. She always smelled like a spring bouquet no matter what season.
“We’re just happy you're home,” she sniffled, patting my back.
Sheriff Carter cleared his throat.
Sadie and I broke apart. I stayed between my father and her, glancing at the sheriff, knowing the questions were about to start. I didn’t have anything to hide.
The radio on his shoulder made a series of beeps before an operator’s muffled voice came through. Sheriff Carter waited until she finished. “Arie, glad to see you’re unharmed. Would you mind telling us where you’ve been?” he asked, his slightly round belly lifting with his chest as he straightened, waiting for me to answer. “According to your father, you’ve been missing for two days.”
Sheriff Carter and I have a history. We don’t exactly see eye to eye. My gaze narrowed slightly. “Am I in trouble, Sheriff?”
“Not unless you broke the law,” he retorted.
I snorted as unpleasant flashbacks of the accident leafed through my mind. “Since when is taking shelter from a hurricane a crime?”