Page 10 of Owned In Misty Mountain

And my brain is full of things I should never be thinking about a girl like her.

Except I am.

And now I can’t stop.

She’s mine.

That thought roots itself deep.

I don’t care if it’s wrong. If it’s too much.

I don’t want anyone else to touch her.

Ever.

Six

Shanay

I’m already three bites into a honey-mustard flavored chicken wing when I feel him.

Not see.

Feel.

That shift in the air. That ripple of tension across the backyard like the energy just changed.

I glance up—and yep.

There he is.

Mike Costa.

Towering, all shoulders, jaw, and intensity.

Wearing worn jeans, a gray henley that fits him like a glove, and a scowl that makes my stomach flip.

My fingers tighten around the paper plate in my hands.

He’s here.

At my uncle’s BBQ.

Big, broody, off-limits Mike—who I’ve been fantasizing about since I was old enough to spellzaddy.

And now he’s crossing the yard, slow and powerful, like he has no idea every eye in a twenty-foot radius just landed on him.

I swear, even the grill sizzles louder.

“Why does Mr. Costa look like he just walked out of a filthy Pinterest board?” my cousin whispers under her breath, elbowing me.

“He’s your dad’s best friend,” I hiss. “Stop.”

“Exactly,” she grins. “Filthy andforbiddenPinterest board.”

My skin’s already too warm. And I swear the second Mike’s gaze sweeps over the crowd and lands on me, I forget how to chew.

He sees me.

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