Page 6 of Off-Limits Bad Boy

Kade suddenly appears beside me, and I feel rather than see him lean in, his breath warm against my ear. “What’s going on?” he asks, his tone light, but his body taut with barely restrained power. “I guess you don’t want to leave, after all.”

My heart sinks as I catch sight of a sticky note stuck haphazardly behind the release. I grab the note and pull it off the wall. “Alex's idea of a maintenance schedule is... non-existent,” I mutter, turning the note so Kade can read the words “Get release fixed.” So typical of my brother. Always planning to get around to things tomorrow.

“Looks like we're in for a bit of a wait, then.” Kade sounds way too casual. Internally, I’m panicking. We need to get the club ready to open. I need to be out there on the floor, making sure everyone and everything is in order.

“Great,” I say with a sigh, pressing my forehead against the cold metal wall over the release, the reality of our situation sinking in.

Trapped.

With Kade.

In a walk-in.

And Alex won't be back until tomorrow.

“Relax,” Kade says, his voice smooth as aged whiskey. “We'll figure something out.”

Well, he’s optimistic, I’ll give him that.

“Sure.” But I am not at all sure of anything but how much tonight is going to suck. Heck, if I’d have known the inside latch was broken, I’d have locked him in here alone and walked away to get to work. Dang it.

The clank of wine bottles echoes as I spin around to face Kade, my breath misting in the icy air. He freezes, two bottles of wine in hand. “Thanks to you, we're locked in here.” My words are sharp as icicles.

His dark eyes meet mine, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before he shrugs off the blame like an unwanted coat. “You're the one who closed the door, so this is on you.”

I clench my fists. The urge to hurl a Cabernet at him is almost irresistible—the crash of shattered glass and his pained groan would be the perfect outlet for the frustration brewing within me.

“Besides, I told someone I’d be down here and to come check on me. Did you do the same?” He arches an eyebrow at me, and I want to slap the expression off his face. He’s intolerable.

He’s right. I won’t admit it, but he’s right. I didn’t tell anyone. He did. But I didn’t take that precaution because I shouldn't have to. Damn it, Alex.

“Right.” My voice drips with sarcasm. “Because you, oh great and powerful Kade, couldn't possibly have prevented this.”

He leans against a shelf lined with Chardonnay, a handsome smirk on his lips. “We can stand here arguing, or we can figure out how to stay warm. I've got some ideas...” His tone suggests mischief, and I know exactly what he’s thinking. What a pig.

I’ve been told my resting bitch face is terrifying, but my glare seems to have no effect on him. “Let me guess—close body contact? Shared body heat?” I ask, not amused by his implication.

Kade pushes away from the shelf, his movements languid and predator-like. “It's basic survival,” he says with a shrug, a teasing note lacing his words. “But I'm sure you'd rather rely on your... vast experience?”

He has me seeing red, I swear. I might be a virgin, but... “I'm not naive, Kade,” I say, my voice cold enough to rival the air of our accidental prison.

His laughter, low and throaty, makes my heart race, despite my attempts to talk myself down.

“I never said you were, Emma Riley.” His use of my middle name sends an unexpected shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the temperature.

My breath comes out in visible puffs as I refuse to even consider his idea. “I'd rather die,” I say, trying my best to keep my teeth from chattering.

Kade's grin only widens, his eyes glinting with that familiar, rebellious spark that makes my stomach flip-flop. “What would your brother do if I just let you die?” he asks in a soft tone with an undercurrent of concern beneath the humor.

“I wouldn't care—I'd be dead.” I snap the words at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me rattled.

He shrugs his broad shoulders as he steps into my personal space, the heat from his body radiating like a warm blanket against the cold.

I watch him as he bends down and sets the wine bottles by our feet before slipping off his leather jacket in a smooth, swift motion. Before I can protest, he whisks the warm leather over my shoulders. The jacket is heavy, infused with his warmth and scent—a mix of cedar, leather, and a spicy scent that’s his alone.

“Thanks,” I say, annoyance warring with gratitude for the kind gesture. I never thought of Kade as a nice guy, but here he is. Proving that maybe I don’t know him that well at all.

“I just don’t want the cold to make things awkward between us,” he says with a nod at me.

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