Chapter 6
Lena
Itwisted the key in the ignition and then…
Nothing.
So, I tried again and was only met with a clicking sound somewhere in the engine. This car was barely even two years old, and I shouldn’t have been having any kind of trouble with it.
With a deep breath, I tried to start it one more time, and still nothing.
"Come on," I muttered, slapping the steering wheel. "Don't do this to me. Not tonight."
I glanced up from the steering wheel and took notice of the parking lot, that had become mostly empty at this point. There were just a few stray guests from the event but there was no one familiar.
I'd stayed later than I should have, schmoozing with potential clients, pretending I gave a damn about their vacation homes that needed "a pop of color."
Now I was paying for it. I pulled out my phone, checked the time. Ten forty-seven. Too late to call a mechanic. Too late to bother any coworkers…
My boss!
Randy might have still been inside and could give me a ride. Saying a quick prayer that he was still there, I grabbed my purse and headed back toward the gallery.
My black boots clicked against the pavement and it made me think even a small city sounded strangely quiet tonight. It was as if Roanoke was holding its breath waiting for something to happen. I glanced over my shoulder. Nothing. Just shadows and parked cars and the dim glow of streetlights.
Still, my skin prickled. That feeling again. The one I'd been having for weeks now. Like I was being observed. Studied. I walked faster.
The gallery was nearly empty when I pushed through the doors. A few people lingered near the back. I searched the faces, hoping, but Randy wasn't among them. "Excuse me," I said to the woman working the coat check. "Have you seen Randy? Tall guy, blue blazer?"
She shook her head. "He left about twenty minutes ago."
Of course he did.
"Thanks," I said, already turning back toward the door. I stood there on the sidewalk, staring at my phone, trying to decide if I should just sit in my car and wait for a rideshare or go back inside and nurse another glass of wine I didn't want. The wait time was forty-five minutes.
Fuck.
"Car trouble?" I spun around and found Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome.
Killian.
He was standing a few feet away with his hands in his pockets, and that same unreadable expression on his face.
My heart kicked up.
"Jesus," I breathed. "You scared me."
"Sorry."
Killian quickly closed the distance between us in just a few strides. "Saw you trying to start it earlier. Battery?"
"I don't know," I admitted, biting my lip just a bit. "It just… won't turn over."
He nodded, like this was a problem he'd anticipated.
"Want me to take a look?"
"You know about cars?"
"Enough." I hesitated.
Every rational part of my brain was screaming at me to say no. To wait for the rideshare. To not get any more tangled up with this man who looked at me like he already knew all my secrets. But it was cold. And dark. And I was tired.
"Sure," I said. "Thank you."
Killian popped the hood of my car and leaned in, his movements efficient and confident. I stood to the side, arms crossed, while my gaze traced his very outline.
He was wearing a dark button up that clung to his shoulders, jeans that hung low on his hips. His forearms flexed as he checked connections, jiggled wires.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him.
"Try it now," he said, glancing back at me a small smile on his face.
I returned to the driver's seat and turned the key. Nothing again. He frowned, and wiped his hands on his jeans.
"Battery's dead. You need a jump, but I don't have cables."
"Of course you don't," I muttered.
"I can give you a ride," he offered, closing the hood. "I'm heading up the mountain anyway."
I looked at him. At his too-blue eyes and his too-calm demeanor and the way he stood there like this wasn't a big deal. Like he hadn't just appeared out of nowhere at the exact moment I needed help. Coincidence, I told myself.
It's just a coincidence.
"You sure?" I asked, shifting my weight, my feet were ready to shed the boots I was wearing. "I don't want to put you out."
"You're not." His mouth curved, just barely but I noticed a small dimple.
"Besides, we're practically neighbors."
Right. Neighbors. That's all this is.
"Okay," I said. "Thanks again."
Locking up my car, I followed Killian to his pickup truck that was just around the corner.
Once I was inside, my eyes ran over the interior that seemed to gleam under the streetlights. The truck was pristine and the leather seats barely seemed to have been sat on.
When Killian slid in, his elbow brushed against my arm as he started the ignition and I realized I was about to be confined with a virtual stranger for an entire car ride.
Fumbling with my seatbelt, I prayed he wasn’t crazy and I’d get home safely.
"So do you always play hero?" I asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.
"Only when the damsel's worth saving."
I rolled my eyes, but a smile landed on my lips. "That's a terrible line."
"Doesn't make it less true."
Heat crept up my neck. The road stretched out in front of us, dark and winding as we climbed toward the mountain. The silence between us wasn't uncomfortable, but it was charged. Like we were both waiting for something to break. Part of me wanted to fiddle with the radio but I refrained.
"You go to a lot of these art things?" Killian asked.
"Only when my boss makes me," I said. "What about you?"
"Not usually."
"So why were you there tonight?"
He glanced at me, his expression unreadable in the dim glow of the dashboard. "Told you. Curiosity."
"About art?"
"About you."
There it was again. That directness that made my stomach flip. "You don't even know me," I said, my voice quieter than I intended.
"I'm working on it."
I didn't know what to say to that. Didn't know if I should shut this down or lean into it. The truth was, I liked the attention. Liked the way he looked at me like I was something rare. Something worth pursuing. Even if it scared me a little.
We pulled up to my cabin, and Killian killed the engine. For a moment, neither of us moved, sitting in silence.
"Thanks for the ride," I said.
"Anytime."
I should have gotten out. Should have said goodnight and gone inside and locked the door behind me. But instead, I heard myself say, "You want to come in for a drink?"
In the dark, I could see his eyes widen just a bit. "You sure?"
No.
"Yeah," I said. "I owe you one."
Killian's mouth curved into that slow, dangerous smile. "Just one?"
Once we got inside, I poured us each a glass of whiskey I'd been saving for a night I felt like celebrating. I’d brought it with me from North Carolina and hadn’t thought about it until five minutes before hand.
Killian stood in my living room, taking in the space with that same careful attention he seemed to give everything. "You've made it yours," he said.
"It's my aunt’s place," I said, handing him the glass. "I haven't done much."
"Still." He took a sip, his eyes never leaving mine."It feels like you."
"And what do I feel like?"
"Temporary." The word hit harder than it should have.
"That's kind of rude," I said, but there was no bite in it.
"It's honest." He set the glass down on the coffee table and stepped closer. "You're not planning to stay."
"I just got here."
"Doesn't mean you're staying."
He was right. I didn't know if I was staying. Didn't know what I was doing here at all, really. "Why does that matter to you?" I asked.
Killian's gaze dropped to my mouth. "Because I don't like the idea of you leaving."
Goddamn, he had a way with words. My pulse kicked up. He was close now. Close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him. Close enough that if I tilted my head back, just a little.
"Killian…"
"Tell me to leave," he said softly. "And I will."
I should have. Should have told him this was a bad idea. That I wasn't looking for this. That he was too intense, too much, too. But I didn't. Instead, I set my glass down next to his. And closed the distance between us. His hand came up to cup my jaw, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip.
"You're trouble," I whispered.
"You have no idea."
There was no chance to think, because Killian’s mouth was crashing against mine. He kissed me like he wanted to devour me. It was urgent and needy like he hadn’t had a meal in days. His fingers dug into my waist as he pulled me up against his body and I felt a heat stir between my legs.
I was getting wet.
He tasted like whiskey and a smokey flavored sin. I was literally getting addicted to the taste of him and it was making my knees weak to the point they threatened to buckle.
Slowly, he tore his mouth away from mine.
"I should go," he said, but he didn't move an inch.
"Yeah," I agreed even though my fingers had started to curl into the fabric of the dark shirt he wore.
But neither of us meant it. He kissed me again, deeper this time, his hands tangling in my hair. I gripped his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more.
It was reckless. Stupid. Everything I told myself I wouldn't do. But God, it felt good. When we finally broke apart, Killian rested his forehead against mine.
"I'll see you soon, Lena," he murmured.
And then he was gone. I stood there in my living room, heart racing, lips swollen, wondering what the hell I'd just done. And why I already wanted him to come back.