Page 66 of Stolen Summer
The drive home took less time due to the late hour and no traffic on the roads. I glanced out the window, seeing the familiar houses along the Strand. We were almost home. Eagerness to put space between us—and to toss on some dry clothes—grew within me.
The driver didn’t bat an eye when he opened the door and watched me climb out of the car in my underwear and twisted corset, thanks to Cole’s wandering hands. He did a stellar job keeping his gaze straight ahead and his expression neutral, but I knew what he thought. He wasn’t entirely wrong either.
“My pants got wet,” I explained, but I had no idea why I felt the need to justify the state of my attire with the driver. I had a feeling we’d be seeing a lot of each other this summer, and it would be great if he didn’t have the wrong impression of me.
Probably too little too late.
Cole’s lips twisted as he followed me out.
Fuck it. Let him think whatever he wants.
I left my ruined pants and shoes in the car and sauntered like I walked around half-naked every night of the week with my head high. Cole punched in the code to unlock the door and waited for me to enter first.
“I need to shower,” I said, heading for the stairs.
“We could always take a dip in the hot tub,” he suggested.
And pick up where we left off in the limo? Not a good idea. My hand paused on the banister as I tossed a feeble smile to Cole. “Tempting, but I should go to bed.” Before more mistakes are made.
Cole slipped off his shoes, bracing a hand on the wall. “Goodnight, Killer.”
I bit my lip, reconsidering. I really wouldn’t mind seeing his abs again. I shook my head. What the hell am I thinking?
No. Absolutely not.
Why can’t he be ugly? Or at the least be less attractive than he is?
Cole stretched his arms over his head, and my heart beat like hummingbird wings in my chest, quick and fluttering. I dragged my gaze away from him and trotted upstairs, making a beeline to the guest room where I’d stashed my stuff. I shut the door behind me, pressing my back into the door. “What am I doing?” Running a hand through my hair, I stared at the ceiling.
Tomorrow I’d check on Dad, and then after…after I’d reevaluate.
Icouldn’t sleep.
My mind whirled with twisted images of masks and contorted animal faces. It was like being stuck inside a circus in hell with the devil as the ringmaster.
No stranger to restless nights, I tossed the covers aside and slipped out of bed, tiptoeing silently out of the room into the hall. The door across from mine remained closed. No light shone under the door, so I could only assume Cole slept, probably like a damn baby.
How fucking infuriating when my mind wouldn’t stay quiet for a moment. I’d managed three hours. Three measly hours of rest. I’d survived on less.
Letting out a whispered huff, I crept carefully down the stairs, avoiding any creaks and groans. Unlike my house, the subfloor wasn’t ancient and didn’t have little quirks. Good for sneaking around in the middle of the night.
My feet were nearly soundless as they padded over the shiny wooden floors. I made it to the kitchen and flipped on a low, overhead light above the sink, giving me enough light to see and make a cup of chamomile tea. It wasn’t boba, but it would do. I made sure to take the pot off the stove before it started whistling.
With my steeping tea in hand, I turned toward the hall leading to the library. If I couldn’t sleep, then I might as well make good use of my time, and what better way to spend the wee hours of the night than deep in the pages of a book? I might be able to finish one at this rate. A concept so foreign I couldn’t remember the last time I’d completed such a task in a week.
A book would be so much more enjoyable than the obscured dreams I?—
Creak.
My feet halted and my free hand paused in front of me like I’d been playing a game of freeze tag with the shadows. I whirled toward the sound, nearly spilling the tea onto my hand. What the fuck was that? Hadn’t I just thought this house too new to have all those little characteristic noises like mine did?
The air in my lungs built up as I held my breath, waiting and listening, poised in the dimly lit kitchen. I swore it had come from behind me, the direction in which I had been only minutes ago when I’d snuck downstairs.
The obvious conclusion was Cole. Maybe he couldn’t sleep either.
“Cole?” I whispered. “Is that you?”
As the beautiful silence stretched, my adrenaline slowed, and I released a jagged exhale. My imagination going haywire seemed like a rational explanation. It had been a long night, and I had little sleep. Completely reasonable I’d be a little jumpy.