“Nothing about my coffee can possibly be consideredawful,” Rooke grouches.
“We don’t want coffee.” Haven glances back at me like she’s expecting me to argue with her. When I say nothing, do nothing, her shoulders slump. But she pushes them back up a second later, staring down Rooke like a princess ordering her peasant to fetch her slippers.
A very drunk, very stoned princess.
“No coffee,” she repeats. “Just the car.”
“Get. Inside.”
She hesitates between pushing back and complying, her body swaying. The weed is making her reckless, but even stoned, she knows better than to fuck with Rooke when he sounds like that.
“Fine,” she huffs, wrapping her arms around herself. “But only because it’s cold out here.”
She ducks under his arm and disappears into the house. Rooke’s eyes track her, then swing back to me.
We stare at each other.
Fuck, I don’t know how to exist this close to him after what happened.
My skin feels too tight. My pulse is racing. And I can’t stop looking at his mouth.
His obscene, infuriating mouth.
“Are you coming in, too?” he asks.
“Haven’t decided yet.”
His lips twitch. Almost a smile. “Don’t take too long. Hypothermia can be fatal.”
He turns and walks inside, leaving the door open behind him.
I stand there with the cold gnawing at my skin as hard as I’m gnawing on the inside of my cheek.
I should summon the Uber again. I could wait in the car while she gets the keys and plays Rooke’s twisted game.
I could—should—avoid this whole fucking mess.
But my feet are already carrying me through the door.
The house is dark but for the kitchen’s ambient blue light strips, and a stand lamp in the living room.
Haven’s standing near Rooke’s leather sofa, arms still wrapped tightly around her chest.
“How do you take your coffee?” Rooke asks from the kitchen, where he’s paused in front of a complicated-looking coffee machine with a bag of coffee beans in his hand.
“No coffee,” Haven repeats. “We just want?—”
“Your keys,” Rooke cuts in, cocking an eyebrow. “Yes, I heard you the first twenty times. But there’s no way in hell you’re leaving this house in your condition. So. Coffee.”
Haven snaps her fingers. “Fine. If you’re holding us hostage, I want a double espresso. I need to be alert to drive.”
“You’re not driving,” Rooke says calmly. “And you’d hate espresso if you ever tried it.”
“Fine. I’ll get the keys myself,” she announces, flashing me a crazed smile as she fast-walks toward Rooke’s bedroom.
I manage to grab her as she passes. Her momentum flings her around to crash into me, causing me to stumble.
“The fuck are you doing?” I hiss down at her. “Don’t go in there!”
