Page 43 of Stolen Summer

“You’re lucky I found you.” He deposited me into the passenger seat of his car.

I was grateful to have the support underneath me, unable to trust my legs could stand yet. My eyes followed his face as he leaned over and snapped my seat belt into place, my head resting on the back of the leather seat. “Were you looking for me, Cole?” I murmured.

He angled toward me, a glint of something flashing in his eyes. Ire? I couldn’t be sure. One minute, Cole could be flirty and fun. The next, he was a bigger asshole than the devil. “I should have been given the state you’re in.”

God, even disorientated, he was too close. A warm flush spread into my blood, and my eyes darted to his lips, eyeing the hoop at the corner. “I almost called.” A short, zany laugh expelled from my chest. “That’s how desperate I was.” Why is my mouth flapping so much? I lifted my eyes.

Big mistake.

Heat flared in the center of his irises. “And yet you didn’t. Don’t make that mistake again, Killer. I won’t allow it.”

My hand lifted, and before I realized what I was doing, my thumb stroked over the crease of his bottom lip. “What are you going to do? Drive me to and from work every day?” The suggestion was meant to be sarcastic and absurd. I should have known Cole would take it literally.

He nipped at my thumb. “Yes.” The word escaped him in a low growl.

I flicked my eyes up, a small part of me understanding I was playing a dangerous game I was unable to stop. “I thought you would be happy to see me. Isn’t this what you want? Me, at your house?”

His expression was painted with an antagonism I didn’t fully understand. “I didn’t ask for you sick and malnourished.”

My eyes tracked him as he stalked to the other side of the car and got in. He shifted into drive and eased us onto the road.

I shouldn’t stare at him, but I couldn’t look away. Stubble shadowed his chin and lower jaw. He wore gym shorts and a tee and looked like he just finished working out. His dark hair was sexily messy. “Why are you so pissy?”

His eyes stayed on the road, but a muscle in his jaw worked. “You need to take care of yourself, Killer.”

He was angry at me for nearly fainting? Where was the concern? I didn’t need him scolding me; my cheeks already burned with humiliation. “Don’t make this a big deal when it’s not.” It was easier not to pull my gaze from him, but irritation had my eyes snapping to the front. However, the land blurring by didn’t help the minor dizziness still assaulting me.

How fast is he driving?

It was best not to think about it.

Closing my eyes, I pressed a hand to my temple, cursing my weak body. Why did it have to give out on me now? It couldn’t have waited until I’d made it home. Now I had to deal with Cole and his derisive self-righteousness as if he knew what was best for me.

He barely knew me!

His fingers on the steering wheel flexed before griping the wrapped leather tighter. “So, you don’t frequently skip meals?”

I didn’t like his tone or the insinuation that I couldn’t afford food. Perhaps it was my insecurities, and it hadn’t been his implication at all. Regardless, my ire rose, defenses automatically erecting into place. An old habit I hadn’t grown out of. When I felt attacked or judged, I became detached, hard, and a bitch. I hated nothing more than being made to feel as if I was less. “That’s not your concern,” I snapped.

The car jerked to a stop in front of his house, and Cole whirled toward me. “Maybe not, but if I don’t say it who will? You might not like it, but from what I can tell, you need someone to look out for you.”

“I don’t need anyone,” I ground out, refusing to look at him.

“Yeah. I know.” He got out of the car, and I didn’t budge.

I sat in the front seat stewing, my arms crossed over my chest, glaring out the window.

The passenger door flew open. “Let’s go,” he ordered, looming over me like the devil’s shadow.

The only place I was going was home.

I swung my legs out of the car, using the opening to brace myself as I stood. To my pleasure, my knees didn’t buckle, despite swaying slightly. I managed to stay upright; however, I did feel the coloring in my face blanch.

I went to brush past him, but Cole snatched my arm, his fingers pressing into my biceps. “This way, Killer.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I huffed, attempting to shake him off unsuccessfully. “You’ve done enough—” The complaint just left my lips when Cole hauled me off my feet a second time in the span of fifteen minutes. This time he tossed me over his shoulder.

Too weak to protest, I lay like a limp dick swinging down his back. I’m not sure he would appreciate the comparison. I wasn’t sure I appreciated it.