Page 11 of Inarticulate

She followed the curve of the road to the left, and the flicker of flames came into view. The bright orange glow illuminated tall hedges and the outline of a massive house consumed in darkness.

“How the hell do I get in?” Closed steel gates loomed at the entrance to the property, forcing her to look for an alternate entrance. There was no sign of life inside the house. No lights. No glow from a television.

She inched her foot off the accelerator and continued toward the end of the house, her eyes squinted. There was a barely visible open fence gate up ahead, the metal reflecting the moonlight. She stopped and peered along the wall of hedges separating the house yard from the stubbled grass of a barren field. There were cars parked in the distance, one lined after the other. All of them glowed in different shades from the fire.

This was it.

She turned the car onto the dirt road, the large hedge on her left, the massive house looming just behind the natural screen. People came into view, more vehicles, the massive bonfire. She pulled to a stop at the makeshift parking lot, reached for the bottles of alcohol, and then slid from her seat into the freezing night air.

“Savvy!” Dominic waved a beer bottle at her from the opposite side of the flames. “Come over here.”

His intoxication became clearer the closer she approached. She could see the glaze in his eyes, the delirious smile that spoke of the liquid buzz running through his veins.

“I’m glad you made it.” He slid his arm around her neck and yanked her in for a smothering hug.

“Yeah, me, too.” She looked over his shoulder and her stomach took a nose-dive. She’d felt the same sensation throughout the week, whenever she had time to spare a thought on Keenan’s intense eyes.

He stood alone in the shadows, leaning against a large tree trunk, a beer bottle in his hand as he stared at the flames. She feasted on the sight of him, her senses reigniting at what they’d been starved of all week.

She shouldn’t be so quick to jump at the bark of her hungry hormones, not after the mistake of Spencer, but this man was different. He was cold and calculating. Mysterious and intense. Nothing near the deceptive perfection of Spencer.

Keenan’s jaw still held the hint of dark stubble. His eyes were hooded yet fierce. He wore a thick brown jacket, the white woolen interior making his tanned skin seem darker. Almost olive. And his dark blue jeans were just as snug as the ones he wore last week.

“Did you find us easy enough?”

“Yeah,” she lied and slid out of Dominic’s clutches. “Have you got somewhere I can put these?” She held up the six pack of wine spritzers, determined not to let her attention wander back to the man standing on his lonesome.

“Give them here. I’ll put them in the cooler.” He yanked them from her hands, broke the cardboard packaging at one end, and handed her a bottle. “While I’m doing your bidding, why don’t you go talk to him?”

“Who?” Her lips tilted as she feigned ignorance. She’d never been an accomplished liar.

Dominic scoffed and shook his head. He walked away, leaving her alone, vulnerable, and entirely susceptible to the dark gaze Keenan now gifted her.

“Shit.” She couldn’t control her heart rate. Not that she ever could.

His scrutiny made her feel like a bug under a microscope. He was learning her secrets with every glance, and she wanted the favor returned. To crack him open and see what hid beneath his tough exterior.

Hi.She mouthed the word, not wanting to cast her voice across the numerous feet separating them. He tilted his beer bottle at her and took a swig. Laid back. Without a care. There was less tension in his features tonight. He was still dark and devilish, but there was also a glimpse of humanity.

She strolled toward him, her chest thumping harder with each step. “Nice to see you again, Keenan.” His name on her lips was far better than having it ring in her head for days on end.

He kept his position against the tree trunk, his attention raking over her as she approached. The appraisal was slow and deliberate. From her black ankle boots now covered in dust, to her tight jeans, her thick mauve coat, her matching scarf, all the way to her face.

He broke eye contact, and the corner of his lips quirked.

Something was funny.

She looked down at herself. Her fly wasn’t undone. No cleavage was showing. Her clothes were casual. Maybe a little too laid back. She hadn’t even bothered with make-up apart from mascara. But she looked hot. As hot as someone could get dressed like an Eskimo.

“You don’t approve of what I’m wearing?” She withheld the frustration from her tone and gripped the cap of her wine spritzer, trying to twist it open without shredding her palm.

His face tilted, turning back to meet her. He lifted the beer bottle to his mouth, took a slow gulp, and never let his focus waver. The way his throat convulsed made her swallow. The moisture on his lips made her lick her own. There was no hope to control her rapid pulse.

She was lost.

Helpless.

She continued to twist at the bottle cap and winced at the sting of pain slicing through her skin. “Shit.” She looked down at her palm and the imbedded red scratches. Right when she needed a drink, her girlie hands were betraying her.

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