Page 35 of Queen of Ruin

“It’s amazing.” I grab my bag from Darren, following him to the front door.

He stops at the threshold, as if there’s an invisible barrier preventing him from stepping inside. I peer past him and spot an open book and a pair of glasses next to the couch. It’s as if they’re waiting for Kerry to come back and pick up where he left off.

Where the Georgetown home is all crown molding, grand chandeliers, and screams old money, this place is rich colors and inviting plush fabrics.

“How long has it been since you’ve been here?” I lay a hand on Darren’s shoulder to bring his attention back to me.

He leaves his bag in the entryway as he moves forward, running a hand through his hair.

“Years.” He flinches slightly at the admission, his voice thick with guilt.

I follow Darren through open living area that leads to the back patio where he slides open the glass door, letting in the cool crisp air that smells like pine, and carries with it the hint of winter. The large deck looks out to a clearing, and in the distance is a pier.

“He closed everything up for the winter,” Darren sighs with a disappointed tone. I gather that’s something he wasn’t expecting.

There are no sounds of traffic, only the occasional rustle of trees and birdsong in the distance, as if we’re tucked away from the rest of the world.

Darren stands in the middle of the manicured lawn with the backdrop of grand pines behind him, and his eyes are trained on me, the hint of something dark and needy that sets my pulse racing. I’m imaging him cutting wood and doing outdoorsy things with humor,

He crosses his arms over his chest, stretching the stylish jacket across his chest.

“What’s so funny?” he demands.

“I was just picturing you chopping wood in a flannel,” I laugh.

“And you find that funny?”

I nod.

“I’ll have you know,” Darren wiggles his finger in the air, “that I have, in fact, chopped wood before.”

I place my hands on my hips and stare at him disbelievingly.

After a moment, Darren concedes. “I didn’t say I was good at it,” he smiles.

“Does this mean once the wood runs out, we’re going to freeze to death?” I question, pointing to the pile by the side of the house.

“Of course not.” Darren rolls his eyes. “The house has a heater.”

The seriousness with which he says it has me giggling, and Darren grabs hold of me. My stomach twists into knots like the remnants of wisteria that travel along the forest bed and make their way up the sides of the trees, their progress suspended by the impending winter.

“If you want me to wear a flannel,” he smiles, tightening his arm around my waist, “I will.”

Darren stares down at me, his eyes full of mischief, almost willing me to make another smartass comment, and I’m only too happy to oblige.

“Then you’ll have to give me the keys to the car,” I explain, and Darren raises both eyebrows in question. “In case you chop off a finger and I have to drive you to the hospital.” I can’t keep the laughter down that keeps bubbling up inside of me.

Darren gives me a shake and I squeal in response.

“You think you’re funny,” he entreats.

“Yes,” I giggle.

“I’m not going to chop wood in my flannel, Evangeline.” He peers down at me in such a way that causes my heart to race. I tilt my head, waiting for what he’s going to say next. “I’m going to wear it while I fuck you in every room of this house.” He reaches down and hauls me over his shoulder.

“Darren!” I squeal, while he carries me like a lumberjack into the house, smacking my ass on the way.

14

---