Page 20 of Revenge (Elite of Elmwood 3)

Grayson needed to learn to keep his mouth shut. Did they spend all their time talking about me? I imagined that got on Grayson’s nerves. I smiled at the thought. “I haven’t even told them about us.”

“They know,” he stated.

“What! How?” I shrieked, sitting up straighter in the leather seat.

“Grayson.”

Christ. Who would have thought that my dark and brooding brother was such a damn Chatty Cathy at home. “You’re not going to give up, are you?”

“What do you think, Firefly?”

“That I need a new boyfriend.”

“Say it again,” he demanded.

I knew what he wanted. “Say what?” I retorted, feigning ignorance. He made it too damn fun to ruffle his feathers. It was becoming my favorite pastime.

“That I’m your boyfriend.”

My fingers fumbled with the steering wheel. “Not for long if you keep controlling my life.”

He chuckled, and the husky sound sent a bloom of warmth through me. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

I rolled my eyes and got out of the car, walking toward the pub. “I’ll call you later, Taylor.” And before he could growl or rumble my name some more, I hung up and shoved my phone back into my pocket.

Inside Lazy Ray’s, the first thing I noticed was the smell. I couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but it was something like cheese crossed with beer. It wasn’t a horrible scent, but not altogether appetizing. My gaze swept over the place, the old wooden chairs and tables, the slightly sticky floor my shoes stuck to as I walked further in, eventually landing on a guy with shoulder-length brown curls who was wiping down the bar countertop.

His eyes lifted as I approached. “Can I help you?” he asked, as he continued the circular motions of cleaning.

Two biker-type guys sat at the bar, each nursing a pint of beer, eyes glued to the football game on the TV. They were the only customers in the place, but I got the feeling they were regulars. I cleared my throat and replied, “I’m here about the job position.”

The guy straightened, and I got a glance of the name embroidered into the corner of his black shirt. Zeke. “You go to the Academy?” Zeke inquired.

My hands rested on the bar top. “Yeah, how did you know?”

His soft green eyes drifted down and then back as he glanced me over. “The uniform’s a dead giveaway.”

Holy crap. I’d forgotten I was still dressed in my Academy clothes. “Right. These.” I tugged on the end of my skirt, feeling ridiculously out of place. I’d planned to change after school but completely forgot after the emotional confession with Easton.

“You ever serve in a restaurant before?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No. But I’m a quick learner, and I work hard.”

He pursed his lips. “What’s your schedule like? We’re looking for mostly weekend help and maybe a night or two during the week.”

“I can do that. I’m free anytime after four.”

A wry grin curled on Zeke’s lips. “Normally my sister handles the interviews, but she isn’t here at the moment. You’ll just have to deal with me. Have a seat.” He paused. “What’s your name?”

“Josie. Josie James,” I answered, scooting back one of the high barstools and hopping up.

“Well, Josie, are you sure you want to work in a place like this? It doesn’t seem to be your style.”

He assumed because I went to the Academy, that I was a rich, spoiled brat. And he wouldn’t be exactly wrong, except my situation was unique, and I wasn’t in the mood to go into the long-ass details of my life. “I just moved here over the summer. I used to go to Public.”

“My sister goes to Public. I graduated a few years ago. I thought the name sounded familiar.”

Please, God. Don’t let him know who I am. Angie’s marriage to Steven had been the cover story in the newspaper, to her delight.

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