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Fuck that.

Micah showed up at my house after school on Friday, sporting a devilish grin, two dimples winking at me. “Who did you hit on today?” I asked, because he had that look of someone who was about to score.

He lounged on the porch swing beside me, throwing an arm along the back as his lips twisted. “How much time do you have?”

I rolled my eyes, tucking my legs up on the cushion underneath me. “You’re unscrupulous.”

He threw me an arrogant smile. “Thank you. Mads said something about meeting up with me later.” The way he said her name and the goofy glittering of his eyes sent a warning bell chiming in my head.

I narrowed my eyes. “You leave my friend alone.”

“She still has a thing for me, doesn’t she?” He sounded so damn pleased with himself, like God’s gift to women.

I shook my head, narrowing my eyes. “I swear to God, Micah. I’m not joking. Don’t mess with her. Go play with the million other girls falling at your feet.”

He put his hands up in surrender like he was calling a truce before I ripped him a new one. “For you, Josie Jo, I’ll do my best. Any chance you’re included in all those millions of girls?”

“You mean now that Brock and Ava are a thing?”

He winced. “Ouch. You know it’s not like that.”

“Maybe not, but I am still salty as fuck about it.” An autumn breeze kissed my cheeks as I turned my gaze to the house across the street. It was so nice to be outside. Today was one of those rare Indian summer days. The sun still shone brightly in the sky, warming the earth. Bold, crimson leaves stuffed the large tree in the front of our yard, and a robin hopped from branch to branch, occasionally chirping.

Micah shoved his foot against the ground, sending the swing moving. “It’s not permanent. And if it helps, Brock is miserable. I think he actually misses you.”

I snorted. “I find that hard to believe.”

“No one knows Brock better than the three of us. He hasn’t come out and said it, but we all see it. Brock’s different with you.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

He scratched his nose. “Who knows? I can’t figure girls out.”

“But you’re the playboy,” I countered, enjoying the sun and the banter. “I thought girls were your specialty.”

“Only the ones that don’t matter,” he replied, surprising me.

Was he saying that Mads mattered?

As I contemplated, Micah tugged on the end of my hair. “You’re looking better, James. Less like a punching bag and more like a stubborn girl.”

I gave him a mildly amused, mildly annoyed look. “You kind of suck at giving compliments.”

His cockiness knew no bounds. “That’s not what most girls say.”

“I might have to question your taste in women. Mads excluded. You really fucked up there, buddy.” I poked him in the chest.

He chuckled, but the husky sound was cut off by a cop car rolling up in front of my house and parking alongside the curb. Micah’s Hummer sat behind my dad’s car, taking up the small driveway.

Micah’s expression hardened, his light blue eyes sharpening to ice chips. “You expecting company?” The Elite knew about my car getting impounded.

“No.” They already took the Lexus. What could they possibly seize now?

Micah’s arm dropped around my shoulder, pulling me closer to him. “I don’t like this, Josie. Twice in the same week… Something is up.”

I thought the same, but hearing Micah say it sent a chill down my neck, despite the heat seeping from his body into mine.

Micah and I watched as two officers got out of the patrol car together. “You should probably get your dad,” Micah muttered.


Tags: J.L. Weil Elite of Elmwood Romance