I rest a hand lightly on Shadow’s bicep, and he turns in slow motion to look at me.
“Is this a clubhouse?” I whisper.
He lowers his brows. “What? I can’t hear?—”
The bartender takes two bottles and uncaps them for us. She shoots me a look. “Where’d you find her? She looks like a milk drinker.” She chuckles, and I feel the blush turn my cheeks a deep red. I know I look out of place and it must be written all over my face, but there’s no reason for this woman to be petty.
“Just the beers,” Shadow snaps.
She pouts a little but sets the bottles on the bar, leaning over much farther than is necessary—I’m sure, so that Shadow and I can both see much more of her cleavage than I, for one, ever wanted to.
Shadow doesn’t seem at all fazed and grabs both bottles in one hand. Then he throws the arm holding both beers over my shoulder and steers me away from the smoke and the noise.
This close to him, I feel the heat radiating off his body. Even though everything else is competing for my nose’s attention, I catch a whiff of musky, spicy cologne. Somehow, even with the rain and the storm, getting blown in the face by trash and walking through a sauna of smoke and body odors, Shadow smells fantastic. But, like, it’s a good scent.
I try my best to keep my anxiety under control as we make it to a hallway, moving away from the main room. I can hear people talking behind closed doors and making other, more private kinds of sounds. There is water running, so there must be bathrooms nearby, and we don’t have to walk too far before we stop in front of a closed door.
An ancient-looking plaque on the front of the door reads Vice President. Above it, a newer-looking nameplate simply reads Shadow.
“You’re vice president of this club?” I ask. The corridor is quieter than the main room, so I don’t have to shout for him to hear me. “Is this place a clubhouse?”
Shadow turns to face me, his expression bordering on murderous. I take a tiny step back. “This ain’t no clubhouse.” He unlocks the door and, with the beers still in his hand, kicks it open. The man must have something against doorknobs. “Hustle up,” he says. “I want you out of sight and out of the way.”
I try not to let the comment bother me. I already feel like a burden and a lot out of place. I try not to overthink anything, and I yell at myself to get out of my head and just follow him inside, wondering if this will be my room for the night. If this is his room, where will he be staying? I look behind me, trying to get a sense of the place, but just then, the lights flicker out and the room goes dark.
“Shadow?” My voice comes out like a squeak.
I hear him curse under his breath, and then I hear the sound of the glass beer bottles being roughly set down on something. A quick flash of light from his phone beams a bright pinprick of light at the floor, and I take a nervous step toward him. I drop my overnight bag and consider throwing my arms around him, but I stiffen and think the better of it. What the heck is wrong with me? This man is a stranger.
But then I feel his hand at my lower back, and he pulls me close. “We have a generator,” he explains. He turns the flashlight off and slides his phone into some pocket, but now, of course, I can’t see anything. I can just hear the rustling of leather and fabric. “It takes a minute to kick on. You okay?” he asks quietly.
I feel his soft breaths against my hair and the featherlight pressure of a hand at my lower back. I can tell from his heat and his delicious scent that I’m close to him. I lower my chin, and my forehead bumps into his chest. I leave it there for just a second, my eyes closed, the sounds of the wind banging against the building and the party noises filling the dark space.
Then, in a flash, the lights power back on.
I jump back and look into Shadow’s face. His expression changes from something soft and thoughtful to that angry mask again. He sniffs, then takes a step back. He points to a closed door toward the back of the room.
“Private bath,” he says. “Use what you want.” Then he looks away from me and points to a queen-size bed. “Sleep, watch TV, just do whatever.”
He picks up one of the beers and points to the second bottle with it. “That’s for you.”
Then he walks to the door like he’s going to leave me.
“Shadow,” I call out before I can stop myself.
His hand freezes on the doorknob. “What?”
“What if the power goes out again?” I can’t help myself. I’m in a strange place, and back here, the sounds of the party are quieter, but I can hear every gust of wind and band of rain blasting against the walls and roof. It’s like I’m in a snow globe that someone has shaken with all their strength, but instead of fluffy snow, there’s trash banging around inside.
“You’ll be fine. We won’t get any flooding this far inland. You’re safe.” He throws open the door and looks me straight in the eyes. “Violet,” he says.
My tummy flips over, and I shiver at the intensity of his voice. Maybe it’s the cold and the fear finally getting to me.
No, I think.
It’s not the storm. It’s him.
“Yes?” My voice is a whisper.
