Badly Behaved

He meets me at the landing with a grin.

“I wasn’t sure you were coming, but perfect timing.”

I give him a quick half hug, and he latches his arm around my shoulders, steering me indoors.

Leaving my side, he slips behind his bar, grabs a glass and empties the contents of the blender into it. My brows lift as I accept the slushie-like drink, knowing, without a doubt, he wasn’t the one drinking it.

He notices my expression and chuckles, tapping his knuckle on his near-empty tumbler. “Jules and Dax came by for a bit. She made it and that’s what’s left. I was about to pour it out... and then I saw you coming.”

I pull the glass to my mouth, allowing it to coat my lips so I can taste the red concoction. “Do you always sit around and stare at your security cameras?”

“Only when I’m waiting for someone to pop up on them.” His smirk is a mix of triumph and assurance.

I cross my legs, my forearms resting on the cold granite. “You were so sure I would, huh?”

He nods, and the superior glint in his eyes is clear—he truly had no doubt.

I’m not sure what that says about me, or him for that matter, so I look away, push to my feet, and step out onto the back side, wraparound balcony. Behind his house is where his family’s vineyards began, now relocated to a far larger estate, but enough to service the house and more remains.

“All this at your fingertips, and still, you go for the hard stuff.”

“We leave the wine to my mom and her friends. Trust me, they go through enough without help from me.”

“I don’t doubt that.” To love a good glass of wine is pretty much a prerequisite around here.

Scott turns his body to face mine, so with a long exhale, I meet his move. His hand slips into my hair and when I don’t pull away, he lowers his lips to mine.

I’ve kissed him before, on his yacht, when he blocked my exit on the stairs, and like then, he tastes of bitter bourbon and stale smoke, but most of all—privilege.

My fingers never leave my glass or the railing, and he doesn’t give up the drink in his hand either.

He kisses me simply to remind himself he can, and I let him in hopes it helps me to forget, to bring the numbness back.

It doesn’t and when he pulls back, it’s with a grin of arrogant proportions, so I smash my lips into a smile for his benefit.

I pull away, taking a few backward steps. “See you at school?”

He nods, so I turn to leave.

“There’s a difference, you know,” he says, his tone crisp, yet calm.

I glance over my shoulder, and he continues, “In hooking up and fucking up.” His eyes hold mine. “Stay on the right side of that.”

I keep my face blank, but we both know I understand what he’s saying.

Scott’s so used to his whole crew eating up his every word and likely believes he’s offering me some invaluable advice. Unfortunately for him, he’s unaware that his words mean nothing to me.

I pull my lips in, lifting the drink in the air. “Thanks for the drink.”

“Take it with you,” he insists. “Finish it off at home.”

I nod, and I’m in my car, pulling from the long driveway within minutes.

The roads are wide open where Scott lives, the houses spread out by two and three miles, so I follow it down as I did up.

I don’t notice the speed I’m gaining, the fog in my head rivaling the one from the ocean that’s rolling up over the hillside.

A flash of yellow catches my eye, but by the time I slam on the brakes and jerk the wheel on impulse, it’s too late to correct, my speed too high.

The car whips around, the passenger side crashing into a fire hydrant where the road ends and someone’s land begins.

I gasp, my breathing harsh as my gaze flies out the window.

Water pounds against the side, taking the mirror clear off and spraying into the air. It beats down against the hood, splashing all around.

I managed to keep my arms firm on the wheel, my body only whipping slightly, and it takes effort to pull my hands from the leather. Inspecting myself quickly, I spot merely a few cuts and scrapes on my arms from broken glass maybe, but that’s it. The airbag didn’t even go off or else there’d be blood pouring from my nose, I’m sure.

My forehead falls to the headrest, a humorless laugh escaping me.

And then my door is torn open.

I scream, my hands flying to my chest. Instantly, I’m met with wide and wild blue eyes.

Ransom stands there, panting. The color is drained from his face and his brows are drawn in so tight they’re nearly touching.