Page 7 of Crashing Into Me
Paula.Lana knew the house was equipped with the latest smart home technology, and she probably turned the heat on from her cell phone, knowing her friend. She was thoughtful that way. Lana relaxed at that realization and closed the double doors, locking them behind her. Lana did stuff like that—let her imagination get the best of her at the most inopportune times. She walked down the foyer and noticed a dim flickering of light coming from the living room, and she paused when she smelled smoke.
When she walked in, the fireplace was blazing, and she screamed, dropping her purse and dinner to the hardwood floors. Jumping and also spilling his drink was Kayden Capshaw. Sitting on the couch. In only his boxer briefs.
“What are you doing here?” Lana yelled, trying not to crawl out of her own skin.
Embarrassed and caught off guard, Kayden grabbed a throw pillow and covered himself. He rested what was left of his drink on the glass coffee table, the earlier contents all over his bare chest.
“What amIdoing here? What areyoudoing here? This is my sister’s house,” he replied, startled but pleasantly surprised.
“Paula asked me to house sit—wait, she’s never mentioned anything about having a brother.”
How could this be? She’d known Paula for almost ten years. Lana snatched up her purse and take-out bag off the floor. She couldn’t believe her eyes for maybe the millionth time that day.
“Well, I am her brother, and I’m pretty sure she left town to avoid having to see me—so there’s that,” he replied and reached for his drink again.
“Ok. So when are you leaving?” She paced back and forth, arms crossed.
Lana now realized Paula wasn’t lying about the family emergency when she called her, but why would she invite her up knowing he would be there?
“I'm not leaving, and seeing as I’m here now, you’re free to go if you want…Good Samaritan,” Kayden replied.
Lana glared at him the way she did at Aunt Mae’s, and he smiled that half-crooked smile again.Holy crap, it is really like kryptonite!Immediately, she found herself focused on his jet black hair and sea-colored eyes, as they twinkled in the dim light from the fireplace. The light’s shadows detailed every muscle onhis body. Well cut and defined, you could tell he spent a lot of time in the gym.
She realized she was staring again and forced herself to look away. She stuck her hands in her pockets to conceal her fists and realized she was still wearing his jacket. Lana removed it as fast as she could and threw it at him. It hurled past his head and landed behind the couch on the floor.
“I’m on vacation! I drove here for fourteen hours, and I, Mr. Capshaw, am not going anywhere!”
“Not a problem, roomie,” he replied, as he removed the throw pillow and stood up.
Oh wow. She turned away to stop the uninvited thoughts that kept running through her mind, then suddenly spun around on her heels.
“Wait a minute! Aren’t you supposed to be injailright now? How are you even here?”
“Please. The bail was two hundred bucks, I paid it and left,” he replied, walking in her direction towards the decanter of brown liquid on the side table. The light danced on his exposed skin, making every curve and crevice more detailed than before.How is it possible for someone to look like this and be real?
“So they didn’t do a breathalyzer on you?” she asked in disbelief, forcing her mind to focus on the issue at hand.
“Oh, you mean because you gave the cop my flask? No.”
“So let me get this straight. It took me longer toreportwhat you did than it took for you to be arrested, get booked, make bail, and get here before me so that you can lounge around in your underwear?” She was livid.Who was he?
He walked slowly towards her, and she could see his eyes were moving from her mouth to her chest, and it pissed her off even more.Who in the hell does he think he is?
“Do you even care that you almost killed Rachel tonight? Or the fact that you ran me off the road about twelve hours ago? I could’ve died!”
She took a step towards him now, her fists balled as tight as she could get them, her nails digging into her palms so hard she couldn’t even feel the pain anymore. The spell he was casting was broken.
“I do care,” he said, putting his drink down on the table, “believe me, I’m going to make it up to her. To you both, I promise.”
“So what, is that supposed to mean something,” she started, “because I only know you to leave a woman stranded after you make a promise.”
She searched his face for any remorse, but mostly just wanted to punch him in it, no matter how perfect it was. If there was one thing she hated, it was people believing they were entitled because of their money, and right now, he was at the top of that shit list. He took another step towards her, and the smile left his face, replaced by intense concern. Whatever cologne he wore had taken over her senses because the combination of it, the fireplace, and his eyes started making her dizzy. Lana took a step back, then another.
“You spoiled rich kids get away with everything, don’t you?”
It came out as a whisper and didn’t have the impact she intended. His eyes narrowed as he looked into her eyes, and they spoke volumes without him having to say a single word. She knew she had now offended him.Good —he could use being taken down a peg or two.She backed away from him and walked into the kitchen, needing to get out of his personal space to think clearly.
She forced herself to think of anything other than the surreal man standing in nothing behind her. As angry as she was and as much as she hated him, the attraction was overwhelming,and she forced herself to concentrate on the kitchen to catch her breath. The kitchen had the typical finishes—granite countertops, hardwood floors, and industrial-grade kitchen appliances. They always made her feel out of place when she used them, so she never did. The most she ever touched was the coffee machine or the microwave.
