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“Kaleb is the least of your worries right now.”
“At least he thinks I should know what’s going on,” I taunted. “He’s never even met me, and he gives me more credit than you do.”
Michael shook his head in disgust and motioned to the seat beside him. “Get in.” When I didn’t move, he reached out with both hands to pull me across his lap, dumping me in the passenger seat. “Did they teach you to eavesdrop at boarding school, too?”
“What makes you think you can manhandle me?” The heat from his touch racing across my skin didn’t do a thing to cool me down. He cranked the car. I looked at his face, now fully illuminated from the light of the dash. “And I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was in the right place—okay,” I amended when he raised his eyebrows, “the wrong place at the right time.”
More head shaking.
Michael drove slowly down the long driveway, not switching on the headlights until we reached the main road. He turned in the opposite direction of Ivy Springs.
“What about your car?” I asked.
“We’ll pick it up on the way back.”
“On the way back from where?” Ah, my old friend, anxiety—throwing itself into the blender with sheer terror and embarrassment.
“My place,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road.
“Isn’t it in the same direction as my place?”
“No,” he answered with forced patience. “I meant I’m going back to my place at school. And you’re coming with me. There’s someone I need you to meet.”
“Can’t it wait? Who is it? You have a place at school?”
“Would you please stop asking questions for one second? I have to figure out how to handle this.” The tiny muscles in his jaw tightened.
I waited exactly one beat. “When you left today, why didn’t you tell me where you were going?”
Michael let out a loud groan of frustration. “Didn’t I just ask you to stop asking questions?”
“You asked me to stop for one second. You should have been more specific if you wanted longer.” Having a big brother taught me quite a bit about arguing with the intent to wear down my opponent. Like a rat terrier with a pork chop. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to the Hourglass?”
“Well, Emerson, I obviously didn’t want you to follow me.” He turned up the radio in a noticeable ploy to silence me.
“I didn’t follow you. Exactly,” I argued, turning it back down.
“No, you invaded my privacy and then happened to end up at the one place I wanted you to avoid.” He kept his voice controlled, but anger simmered beneath the surface. “You should have stayed away.”
I briefly wondered if I should be afraid instead of mad. Michael had basically carjacked me and was driving somewhere unknown, against my will. That equaled kidnapping. I dug deep, searching for any indication I was scared.
Nope. Just pissed.
We turned down a small side street behind campus. The houses I could see were early-twentieth-century bungalow homes, all well appointed. We pulled into the driveway of one of the nicer ones. It boasted a low-pitched gabled roof, black shutters, and a wide front porch.
Michael came around to open my door. I didn’t move or speak as he took my bag and started for the house. When he realized I wasn’t with him, he turned back to the car, blowing out a gust of air that lifted the hair from his forehead. “Emerson? Don’t make me come and get you.”
I followed him to the front door.
I tiptoed behind him through a dark entryway into a high-ceilinged room with elaborate moldings and wooden floors. A long mahogany table in the back of the room boasted laptops and multiple mugs of coffee in different stages of use. He placed my bag on a side table and dropped down onto one of the leather couches.
o;I can’t be. You know the rules.”
Kaleb snorted. “That wouldn’t stop me.”
“I know. Besides, I’m not into her.” Michael’s voice was firm. Kaleb must have given him a doubtful look, because Michael repeated, “I’m not into her. I have my reasons.”
My stomach dropped a little.
