Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
I had every intention of honoring our deal, not only because of the money but because I stuck things through regardless of how difficult or messy they might be.
Shirtless and barefoot, I barreled into my house, dripping water and depositing sand all over the floor. One of the pitfalls of living on the beach…you could never escape the sand. The tiny particles got everywhere, including places it shouldn’t be.
I’d been in the ocean for five damn minutes, and I could feel the salt and sand sticking to my skin.
“Arie, is that you?” Dad called from the kitchen.
I stalked straight to my bathroom and slammed the door, not bothering to answer. He’d figure it out.
After washing off more than the ocean’s seaweed stench, I padded to my bedroom. The attempt to scrub away the memory of what happened in the water between us was a lost cause. It couldn’t be erased like the salt and sand in my hair.
Since I’d be spending my nights at Cole’s, I tossed in some laundry and started to pack some essentials, but as I stuffed shit into a duffel bag, it hit me I had no idea what I would be doing with my days. I had to find a way to get my job back but then remembered Ann had no problem coveri ng my shifts with the other girls. Taking my shifts back would riddle me with guilt. I wasn’t the only one strapped for cash. They needed the extra money more than I did now. Especially in wake of the hurricane.
I hadn’t allowed myself to fully comprehend that my bank account, which only a day ago had a balance of fifty-six dollars and forty-seven cents, now had a balance with multiple zeros in it. Never in my life had I ever had fifty thousand, I repeat thousand dollars in my checking account. This was serious money, and at the end of summer, that sum would double. I’d spent my life counting every cent. It was ingrained in me, and I didn’t plan to be reckless with the small financial cushion. Money went as quickly as it came, and I couldn’t make it fast enough.
Until now.
I might not have a job to go to tomorrow, but I did at least know what I would be doing part of the day. Snagging the stack of bills on my nightstand, I shoved them into the front zipper pocket of my bag. The pouch bulged, and it took me a bit to finagle the fastener close.
With nothing else to do, I stared at my phone. I had no reason to continue procrastinating. Hours had passed since the incident on the beach. Hopefully, we both had cooled down. Or not.
I didn’t see the point in making a big deal out of my leaving, especially since the lie I’d concocted to tell my dad. So, I hauled my bag to the front door and peeked into my dad’s room to check on him. He was tucked into bed, back propped up, reading with his ritual drink. “I’m leaving, old man. Don’t forget to take your meds, and it would be good if you didn’t wash them down with a bottle of gin.”
“Too late,” he mumbled, eyes still on the page. He had good and bad days. Truthfully, more bad than good, and today I could see he wanted nothing to do with the real world.
And that was the best goodbye I’d get.
I left Dad to his book and booze, which honestly, sounded like a better night than the one I was about to endure.
Shit, the entire summer.
A crescent moon sliced through the darkness, radiating over the black waters of the ocean, rippling in a gentle song against the shore as I crossed the sand. Speckles of stars dusted the clear night sky, and as I looked up, nothin g but stars surrounded me. The beach at night was breathtaking. It felt like a completely different world than during the day. Mysterious. Serene. Yet also dangerous.
The lure to take a dip in the water curled inside my belly. When was the last time I’d done something for fun—for me?
Too long.
Cutting across the beach onto the grass, I headed toward the front of the Rileys’ house. My bag hung heavy on my shoulder. The weight of my possessions was almost too much to carry, and I was seconds away from dragging the bag onto the porch. I dropped it with a thud when I stood outside the door, rolling the ache in my shoulder before I rang the bell.
My hand got halfway to the glowing button when I noticed a little white note taped to the door. I huffed, shaking my head as I tore it off and read through the scrawled message.
Let yourself in. Shouldn’t be a problem for you, Killer.
Dickhead.
I crumbled the paper in my hand and stared at the door.
I should turn around, go home, and say fuck you to Cole Riley.
I should, but I wouldn’t.
Damn my moral compass. Why was it I had no problem breaking into a stranger’s house, and yet I couldn’t go back on this ridiculous deal?
Was it me? Or was it Cole?
And who the hell orders someone to come over when they have no intention of being home? What did he expect me to do? Just sit around and wait for him? If this asshole showed up drunk like I’d found him earlier on the beach, so help me God, our fight earlier would be child’s play compared to the wrath I’d bring down on this house.
I reached for the knob. “Asshole,” I muttered under my breath when it didn’t budge. The thought of having to lug my bag to the back of the house, over the iron fencing, into the pool area filled me with dread, so much so that I abandoned my stuff. I’d get it once I got inside.
Just as I’d done a dozen times before, I punched in the code to unlock the back door and let myself inside. Silence greeted me as I stepped into the kitchen, and an instant wave of déjà vu hit me. How could it have been less than a week since I’d been caught here during the hurric ane? We’d had dinner in the dark and drank wine, a very different setting from now.
Empty bottles of beer were scattered over the counters. Someone was either having a very fun day or a very shitty one. But by the number of bottles, Cole hadn’t been drinking alone.
Not that it was my concern.
If he wanted to get stupid drunk and sleep with a dozen girls, I didn’t care as long as he held up his side of the bargain.
Leaving the kitchen, I went down the hall to retrieve my bag, dragging it inside to the bottom of the stairs. I glanced up and groaned. It would have been great if Cole was here to carry my shit upstairs, but heaven forbid he do something gentlemanly.
Not that I needed a guy to do shit for me.
I could handle this on my own, just like every aspect of my life.
It took twice as long to get my bag to the top of the second floor, and once I got there, I eyed the hallway of bedrooms. The master was located on the first floor so I didn’t risk any chance of choosing his parent’s room, which would have been awkward.
But I still had to decide where to sleep. My eyes darted to the room on the right. Cole’s bedroom was off-limits. I could always stay in his brother’s room—the forbidden room—across the hall. Appealing, but I remembered how it had smelled too much like Cole.
I needed to sleep in a bed that didn’t reek of him.
One of these had to be a guest room, and my guess was the one with soft blue floral wallpaper didn’t belong to any of the Riley boys. I towed my bag inside, leaving it in the middle of the room. With my energy spent, I wouldn’t be doing any unpacking tonight. The only thing I wanted was a big, oversized chair to curl up in, and I knew exactly where to find it.
Checking my phone, I had no notifications from Frankie or Cole. Jerk . I stuffed my phone into my back pocket and headed downstairs, making a stop in the kitchen, which was flanked by two other rooms with large bay windows, both with views of the pool. The dining room sat on the right, and on the left was my favorite spot in the house, an office with an impressive floor-to-ceiling book collection.
Reading ran in my family. I just never had time to sit down and enjoy a book for longer than a few minutes. It had been too long since I sunk my teeth into the pages, and with nothing on the agenda tonight with no Cole and no job, I took advantage of the opportunity.
With my glass of wine in hand, I strolled along the shelves, running a finger over the spines and scanning the titles for something interesting. I’d been in this room several times before. It had a cozy atmosphere that invited you in and wasn’t stuffy or dark like other offices I’d seen on TV. This space had windows and natural light, flowing, soft curtains, oversized round chairs, and a fireplace that clicked on with a push of a button.
I picked a book I’d been meaning to read for some time. Mrs. Riley seemed fond of smut. And I fully approved.
Curling up in one of the chairs, I clicked on the fireplace, took a sip of my wine, and opened the book.
An hour or two must have passed, and not once did I glance at my phone. The glass of wine was gone, and I was thoroughly invested in the story the author weaved when I heard someone else moving around in the house.
The footsteps grew closer, and keys clattered on the kitchen counter. It wouldn’t be long until he found me. I lifted my eyes from the page to see Cole, his dark hair windblown as if he’d been riding on a motorcycle, leaning in the doorway watching me. We stared at each other.
A crooked smile formed on his lips the longer we looked at each other. “I see you had no trouble getting inside,” he finally said.
My scowl deepened. I swallowed the urge to demand to know where he’d been, why he hadn’t been here, but I didn’t want to sound like an unhappy girlfriend. What Cole Riley did with his time mattered little to me. “Some skills stay with you,” I snapped.
Cole crossed his arms, and the lamp shining behind me caught the ink covering his fingers and up his forearms before disappearing under his sleeves. He wore all black and perhaps came from a dinner party in his attire of dress pants and a buttoned shirt casually rolled up his arms. “What did I do now?” he asked, but his wary tone defied the gold twinkle in his eyes and the twitch of his mouth. He was amused by my evident irritation .
Did he want to pretend like our fight earlier hadn’t happened? My eyes narrowed. “Besides you being an ass twenty-three of the twenty-four hours?”
His grin was full of arrogance. “You’re in luck then. This is the one hour of the day I’m not a jerk.”
I snorted, sticking my finger between the pages of my book so I wouldn’t lose my place. “I’ll let you know after the hour is up.”
“You like to read, Quinn?” His eyes flicked to the novel in my lap.
“When I have the time,” I replied, confused by his friendly attitude. Were we going to pretend like what occurred on the beach didn’t happen?
He strutted into the room, going to the corner bookshelf. “Don’t let me interrupt you.” Stunned, my eyes followed him as he plucked a novel from the shelves and sat in the other chair.
Interruption? The man was a cluster of distractions. It wouldn’t be possible to concentrate on the book with him only feet away. “Too late,” I grumbled, my gaze shifting to the empty glass of wine, and I kicked myself for not getting a refill earlier.
The smile on his lips slipped, and for a second as I studied his too damn handsome face, I swore he appeared tired. Not physically but mentally, as if whatever he’d been doing tonight had worn on him and he looked for a distraction, but before I could fully analyze his expression it was gone, the weary lines on his face softening. Surely, I was seeing things.
What did Cole have to stress about?
But the thought made me realize how little I knew about him and his life, and I asked the question I told myself I wouldn’t ask. “Where were you? What I mean is, you’re dressed as if you had somewhere important to be.”
He kicked off his shoes, propping an ankle over his knee as he sunk deeper into the chair, getting comfortable. “Important is relevant to the person. For my father, tonight had been vital; for me, it was duty, one I’d rather relinquish to anyone else.”
My fingers fumbled with the pages, flipping them at the corner. “You have family obligations in Fallen Oaks?”
His shoulder relaxed as he rubbed the back of his neck, eyes closing for a moment like he was letting the tension of the day go for the first time. “No. I drove into the city.”
“That’s over two hours away. Why drive back? Why didn’t you stay in the city?” I knew his family had a house in the city. It was their main residence.
His eyes met mine and held. “Because I had someone waiting for me.”
I squeezed the book, my lips turning down. Since Cole appeared, I’d been frowning a lot. “You didn’t have to come back for me.”
“And leave you here alone? Trust me, I’d rather spend my night arguing with you than my father. He isn’t nearly as sexy as you,” he said cheekily.
I rolled my eyes, ignoring the ripple of warmth at his compliment. There was something different about him tonight besides the evident exhaustion. Even the way I felt in his presence was less volatile and more chill. “Are you close with him?”
All traces of humor evaporated. He cast me a grim glance, the lines around his mouth tight. “I’d rather not talk about my father.”
He’d said father. Not family. Not business. So, it was his father who upset him. Did they have a strained relationship? Did they not get along? Did his father expect too much from him? I had more questions than answers, and it didn’t look like Cole was in the mood to share any of the information tonight. “Are there any other topics I should avoid, or should we keep all personal information out of our arrangement?”
He chuckled, but the sound was far from pleasant. More sarcastic than harsh. “How quickly the claws come out.”
I exhaled, careful not to breathe in too deep. I didn’t want my nostrils filled with his scent. “I’m just trying to understand what this is. What you expect from me.” It was the first night. He’d tell me the details of our arrangement now that I was here. Wouldn’t he?
“Right now, just your company,” he said.
Not the answer I wanted. “And tomorrow?” I asked because short-term information wasn’t enough.
He opened the book, staring at me with a sharp smile. “I’ll let you know. ”
We read in silence, and although I had to go over the page I’d left off on three or four times before the words sunk in, a comfortable stillness settled between us.
I must have closed my eyes at some point because a knitted blanket was tucked around my body. The book was no longer in my hands but sitting on the little table between Cole and me.
Dapples of sunlight broke through the drawn shades. I’d slept through the night, and as my eyes cleared the residue of sleep, it hit me like a gust of wind, I was at Cole’s. This was the Riley’s library.
Stretching out my legs, I turned my head to the side and winced, instantly regretting the motion. Pain lanced through my neck, and I corrected the movement, shifting my head forward again.
I must have slept on it funny, and now my neck was paying for the awkward angle it had spent the night. Groaning, I rolled my head back and forth to work out the kink, but it would take more than a few exercises to banish the stiffness. A hot shower might help.
I was about to stand when Cole appeared in the doorway, looking much like he had last night except he held two mugs.
He wore only a pair of sweatpants, no shirt, and his hair was damp from a recent shower. I could smell his soap and shampoo. It mixed with the bitterness of freshly brewed caffeine. “Coffee?” he offered when our eyes connected, lifting one of the cups.
“Is that even a question?” I mumbled, sleep still thick in my voice making it raspier than usual. My throat was dry from the wine, and the prospect of coffee made my mouth water, eager to ease the scratchiness. I would have preferred boba, but he didn’t know that, and coffee was the next best thing.
Cole crossed the room, turning the piping-hot mug around so I could grab it by the handle. “I wasn’t sure how you liked it.”
I blinked at frothed foam with sprinkles of cinnamon dusted on top. This wasn’t coffee. This was a damn Starbucks drink. “You made this?”
He nodded, settling into the same chair he sat in last night. “I take coffee seriously. ”
“It’s good. Like really good,” I said after taking my first sip, licking the foam off my lips.
“It’s a brown sugar espresso with vanilla foam,” he replied, lifting the cup to his mouth.
“I could get used to this,” I murmured, going back for another longer drink.
“What? Waking up in a chair?” he joked, a ghost of a smile playing over his lips.
My eyes twinkled. This playful side of Cole I liked. “No, you bringing me coffee. Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of the summer?”
He grinned, and before he opened his mouth, I knew I was in trouble. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up. I’m trying to bribe you.”
I glared at him over the brim of my coffee, which was better than any fancy drink in town. “Now I’m afraid. Coffee won’t get you much with me. If you want to bribe me, bubble tea is my weakness.”
“With or without boba?”
“With.”
“Noted. Do you want breakfast before we leave?” he asked, brows lifting as he waited for my response.
Unfolding my legs, I flexed my toes, needle prickles of feeling dancing through my feet. “Where are we going?”
“Shopping.”
My brows bunched. “Why? Your fridge is fully stocked.” At least it had been a few days ago. Surely, he couldn’t have eaten it all since then.
His grin brimmed with self-aggrandizing privilege, the silver hoop missing from the corner of his lip this morning. “You need a dress.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I hate dresses.”
Taking another long drink from his coffee, Cole brought in the long legs stretched out in front of him, leaning forward in the chair. “Why does that not surprise me? It doesn’t have to be a dress. Just something nice, preferably black.”
“Like your heart,” I quipped, my mouth moving before my brain comprehended what came out.
He stood and moved in front of me, holding out a hand to help me out of the chair, gold sparkles of amusement in his dark eyes. “Exactly. ”
I stared at his outstretched fingers covered in tattoos. “Will there be booze where we are going?” I inquired, placing my hand in his.
His fingers closed over mine and winked at me. “An open bar.”
I’d need it to get through the night.