Honeytrap by CRYSTAL GREEN Page B

at Jimmy’s house. He always had hung out with an older crowd.
    Jefferson tipped back his cowboy hat. “Jimmy’s too drunk to stop this.” He nodded to Reese, and it was like they had some kind of signal, because he left, heading for the Impala and the crowd around it. Then Jefferson focused on me and Evie again.
    â€œWhat brings you here then?” he asked over the music.
    Evie had already downed half her cup, and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, avoiding her lip piercing. “We’re in search of pleasant company. But I’m not sure we’ve found it with all that bull riding going on . . .”
    â€œBronc busting,” Jefferson said. “That’s what they’re calling it. These kids started it up last year after the graduation party. If it wasn’t so dangerous, I’d say you girls should hop on and give it a go. It’d be a turn on.”
    Evie and I cracked up. But when I stopped laughing, I still had to wonder how long it’d take for Jefferson to comment about me and Rex. Or for someone else to say something that’d make me want to leave.
    Evie was sticking by my side, like she was silently telling me to stand my ground.
    Jefferson refilled his cup. “So you’re both in college now?”
    He was looking at me, so I answered. “I’m at Texas-U. Evie’s at UCSD on the West Coast. She wants to study marine biology.”
    â€œAnd art,” Evie added. “Wonderful combo. Maybe I’ll be Wyland someday.”
    More blank looks. Okay, they weren’t so much into artists, either.
    I nodded at Jefferson. “You went off to be a Longhorn?”
    â€œYeah. Made the team, too.”
    Everyone in Aidan Falls knew that Jefferson rode the bench at the University of Texas. They said he’d been a big shark here, but a small fish outside town limits, which was just the jerk way of saying that they were disappointed in him.
    By now, I was
really
praying he wouldn’t ask about Rex since we were on the subject of football. But just as I thought he was about to say something, there was a roar in the distance, coming from the road.
    Everyone near the truck—and near the Impala, which was mercifully sitting still without any riders on the roof—turned to see what was arriving.
    It turned out to be a red car with stripes and a jacked-up rear, and Jefferson jumped off the truck to go running toward it. Several other ’necks did, too, except for a crowd that stayed near the Impala.
    â€œOh my God,” Evie said, grabbing my arm. “Look at that Camaro. My dad would get such a woody if he saw this.”
    A laugh sputtered out of me, but it trailed off as I recalled something Micah Wyatt had said earlier in the day.
    â€œI’m more into cars. Racing. All that.”
    The Camaro steered off the road, into the grass, and I could see the silhouetted driver’s muscled arm relaxing out the window, his other hand gripping the wheel. As he came to a stop, the passenger door opened, and someone tall and equally built got out. Another person followed, his shape imitating the other man’s.
    Deacon and Darwin?
    It didn’t take a brain to guess who was driving, and when Micah opened his door and stood tall, the knot that’d been tied between my legs earlier got even tighter. Something in my belly wrapped into itself, too, my skin going prickly and hot.
    â€œEvie,” I said between my teeth.
    We were the only ones at the keg now since the rest of the guys had gravitated toward Micah, who shook Jefferson’s hand right before the guy started circling the Camaro, scanning it. His friends followed him until they got to the twins, giving them pat-on-the-back guy hugs.
    â€œI swear,” Evie said, crossing her heart, “I had no idea he’d be here.”
    I believed her, but that didn’t do me much good now, as Micah locked me into his sights.
    He smiled in the moonlight,