over his words. His lack of urgency bothered her. As did his flippant response. Not to mention the look he was giving her. It was a combination of amusement and condescension, that little smile still playing at his lips.
He was dressed much more casually than anyone she’d seen so far upstairs: jeans and an open button-down over a fitted T-shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was taller than she was, and while he didn’t look particularly bulky, she could see the definition of his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt. The cellar was too dim for her to pinpoint the color of his eyes, but she could tell they were light, and his hair, a sandy brown color, looked like it was in need of a cut; it flipped away from his forehead and the tops of his ears in little curls. As if he could read her mind, he ran his hand through it, tousling it in a way that made it look stylish instead of disheveled.
Whatever this guy was willing to do, waiting was not an option for her; there was no way she was going to sit in the wine cellar with this stranger until Colin came to rescue her and she had to fumble through some feeble explanation as to why she was in the wine cellar in the first place. She turned and twisted the handle again. This time, she pulled back on the door so forcefully that a guttural grunt escaped her lips, and she heard him laugh behind her.
Andie looked over her shoulder. “A little help would be nice,” she said, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice.
“When that door sticks, you can’t open it from the inside. Hence the doorstop that someone chose to ignore.”
“Well excuse me for assuming a house like this would have functioning doors,” she snapped, irritated that he was mocking her. He didn’t even know her, for Christ’s sake.
He grinned at her and Andie turned, balling up her fist and banging sharply on the door. The muted thudding rang through the space just as a dull ache shot up her arm, and she dropped her hand to her side, flexing her fingers.
“No one’s gonna hear that, and you’re gonna hurt your hand,” he said, the amusement prevailing over the concern in his voice. “And for the record, I have no medical training. Although there’s plenty of wine, so I guess we could just get you drunk enough that you wouldn’t feel it.”
Ignoring his taunts, she turned around and used the flat of her other hand, banging again. Andie knew he was right; it was fruitless. No one would hear her, and she probably would end up hurting her hand, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of conceding.
“If you’re in such a rush to get back to the party, why don’t you just use your phone and call someone upstairs?”
Yeah, she could just see how that conversation would go. “Hey Colin, it’s Andie. I locked myself in the wine cellar while I was snooping around your friend’s house. Can you come let me out?” Besides, her phone was in her purse. And she had checked her purse upstairs.
Stupid, pretentious coat check.
Andie turned around, folding her arms. “If I had my phone with me, do you think I’d be standing here abusing my hands on this door?”
“Well I told you to stop, didn’t I?”
She shot him a look and he laughed again. “Relax. Trust me, someone will want more wine eventually,” he said, walking toward the first shelf in the middle of the room. He sat on the floor with his back against it, his feet wide apart and flat on the floor in front of him. He rested his elbows on his knees as he looked up at her.
“I’m Chase.”
Realizing that she very well might be trapped with him for a while, she figured it was probably in her best interest to at least attempt civility, even though he seemed determined to get under her skin.
“Andie,” she said before turning back toward the door and inspecting the doorknob, praying for some magic button that would set them free.
“Andie, huh? Interesting,” he said, and then after a beat, “So, Andie, are you a friend of Justin’s? Or Stella’s?”
She turned to look at him. The confusion must have been evident in her face, because he smiled slowly.
“Justin and Stella? You know, the people who are hosting this party?”
“Oh. No, I don’t…I’m here