Page 91 of Stolen Summer
He desired me, that much I was sure of, but was there anything deeper? We hardly knew each other.
But when I weeded through the initial hurt and old anger, I knew why he acted the way he did. To protect me. I might have done the same to someone I cared for. The idea Cole had any sort of feelings toward me sent flutters of uncertainty, warmth, exhilaration, and shame inside me, tangling together into a mess.
Except his plan to banish me from his life hadn’t worked. I no longer slept under his roof, yet the danger still haunted me. And if that was the case, did it matter if I stayed at his house?
I glanced at my closed door, my thoughts returning to Dad.
I had to leave.
For his safety.
At least, that’s what I convinced myself was the reason.
After climbing out of bed, I quickly scribbled a note and tossed a few things into a tote bag Frankie had given me for my birthday a few years ago. Why did it feel as if I’d spent my whole summer so far sneaking in and out of places?
I was Catwoman without the sexy, killer outfit. Okay, the Catwoman comparison was a stretch, but the idea I could kick some serious ass appealed to me.
A calmness settled over the beach tonight, a full moon reflecting off the water’s glass-like surface. The luminous glow aided my short journey next door. The goal was to sneak inside without running into Cole. I didn’t want to give him the chance to deny me entrance.
I punched the code in at the back door, relieved he hadn’t changed it. Selfishly, I hoped it was because he wanted me to do exactly what I was doing—come back.
It should have been weird breaking into his house, and yet, the opposite was true. I’d done it so many times before the deed had become second nature.
The darkness welcomed me as I slid the glass doors closed silently behind me. I took off my shoes and picked them up, tiptoeing through the kitchen. It didn’t occur to me until I reached the staircase that Cole might mistake me for a burglar and shoot me. Not an ideal outcome.
I chewed on my lip, weighing my options. Did I take the risk and head to the room I’d slept in? Or did I crash on the couch in the?—
The cocking of a gun charged through the darkness. “Don’t move.”
There was no chance of that happening unless I sneezed. My body froze.
Are you kidding me?
What were the fucking chances I would have a brief thought of this precise situation and then it came to pass?
The way things had been going lately, it was obviously very high.
I couldn’t see who had the gun, but I could feel the barrel pointed at me, and his voice was unmistakable. I gave him two seconds to recognize me. “Cole, I swear to God, if you shoot me, I’ll haunt you for the rest of your damn life.”
“Killer?” My name came out disbelievingly as if I were the last person he predicted to be sleuthing around his house this late.
I turned and faced him. “Were you expecting someone else at this time of night?”
His narrowed eyes focused on me. “What are you doing here? I thought I made it clear I didn’t want you here.”
“You did.” The statement slipped from me coated in sarcasm, the flicker of fear passing like the wind.
“And?” he prompted, waiting for an elaborate explanation of my sudden presence.
My eyes nearly went cross-eyed as I stared at the weapon. “Will you get the damn gun out of my face?”
“I’m trying to decide if you’ve been scared enough to prevent you from doing another stunt like this in the future,” he said, yet he lowered the weapon.
I snorted, shifting my weight. “I think we both know the answer to that.”
He set the gun atop the console table in the foyer. “You could get hurt.”
My gaze ran over him, taking in the sweatpants hanging low on his hips, the only article of clothing he had on. Was there anything sexier than a barefoot, shirtless guy in sweats covered in tattoos? Add a backward hat, and it was game over for Arie Quinn. Not what I should be thinking right now. Focus on his face for God’s sake. “And that bothers you?” I asked.