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It wasn’t that he looked all that inti his senior year this fall, just like she would, but sorown to the tall side of average He worked for his parents’ landscaping coht work—his ar the green tee shirt he wore

He was filthy, too Dirt streaked across his chest and clung to the sweat on his neck His jeans had seen better days, and his work boots would probably track dirt across the floor Even his hair, dark and wild and a length soive-a-crap, was more unkempt than usual

Emily didn’t care about any of that

She had her eyes on the baseball bat in his hands

He’d gotten into it with Tyler last weekend, had sent her brother ho their parents to argue for an hour about how they were going to handle the Merrick problem

E the counter, tohere they kept the putt-putt clubs for little kids

“I don’t want any trouble,” she said, her voice solid but too quick Her fingers wrapped around the handle of a club

Michael’s eyes narrowed “I don’t either”

Then she realized he hadn’tthere staring at her, his hand on the knob

He glanced past her, at the corners of the shop, as if reassuring himself that they were alone She had no idea what that meant She watched him take in her stance, the way she’d half pulled the putt-putt club free

He followed her gaze to the bat resting against his shoulder

His expression hardened, and he shoved the door closed He was halfway across the floor before she realized he’d ave her an excuse

Then he ithin reach, and she registered the bat leaving his shoulder, and, god, her parents were right—

He was going to swing—

He was going to kill her—