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She remembered the strength in his grip when he’d caught the golf club.
Just when she’d convinced herself to turn back, he glanced over his shoulder and saw her.
She wondered if the earth had told him she was standing there—and wondered if that counted as using his powers. Was it really any different from her sensing the trajectory of the ball ten seconds ago?
He turned around long enough to hit the next ball, then glanced back again. “What, do I get a running start?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Didn’t you call out the cavalry?” He turned back without waiting for an answer.
“No.” Her cheeks felt hot. “I didn’t.”
Another ball came flying, and Michael swung hard. The impact resonated like a gunshot.
She’d never been into sports, but hitting something with that much force—it looked amazingly cathartic.
“Look,” she said. “I need this job. It’s important.”
He didn’t turn. “So?”
“My father is going to make me quit if he finds out you came back.”
Another ball, but this one glanced off his bat and went wide. Michael swore and swiped a forearm across his forehead. “I don’t see why that’s my problem.”
A threat sat on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t say it. She moved closer, glad for the chain link between them. “Please. I’m just trying to talk to you.”
He didn’t say anything, just waited for the next ball and swung.
This was a mistake. She shouldn’t be out here anyway. What did she expect, that he’d leave after she asked nicely? What if someone drove by and saw her talking to him?
“Forget it.” Her feet slammed the packed earth as she walked away.
Another ball. The air moved with his swing. Crack.
But then she heard his voice from behind her. “Wait.”
Emily stopped halfway to the office, but she didn’t turn around.
“My father,” Michael called, “said he’d take my keys for the rest of the summer if he caught me coming back here.”
Crack.
She came back to the fence. “Really?”
“Yeah. Really.” He ducked his head to wipe his forehead on his sleeve.
“But you came back anyway.”
The pitching machine died, and Michael finally turned, stepping up to the fence. “So did you.”
She’d never stood this close to him before, to where she could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes, could count each individual strand of hair that the sun had lightened. He still smelled like summer, cut grass and sunscreen with a hint of something woodsy.
The chain-link fence between them somehow made this more intimate instead of less.
Don’t be stupid. Even serial killers can be hot.
She had to clear her throat and force her eyes away. “Like I said. I need this job.”
