Tempting Josie

Part 3

Her stomach was roiling. “This is unreal,” she whispered. Sure, she’d occasionally stalked him on social media out of curiosity, but he rarely updated his Facebook page and didn’t seem to be active anywhere else. She’d been too hurt to try to stay in touch.

“No kidding.” The corner of his mouth tilted in the mocking grin she remembered so well. “Of all the rotten tricks for Lori to play.”

“Miguel,” Lori protested. “Be nice.”

He snorted and restraightened his tie. “You call this nice? Setting up your best friend with the guy who left her nine years ago? I know you didn’t hang out with her back when we were in school, but still, you must have known Josie and I have a history.”

Lori shook her head. “You were kids. I thought it would be good for you two to catch up.”

Miguel frowned, clearly irritated, but crooked his arm. “Josie? The dance awaits.”

Josie stepped back. At least he hadn’t called her “Jammie,” his private pet name for her in high school. “I don’t know.”

“You promised,” Lori said, her dark eyes pleading. “I can’t chaperone. I’ve got my meeting.”

“Fine,” Josie said. She hadn’t meant to worry her friend, but did she really need to catch up with her high school ex? “Except I don’t need to go with him.”

“Yes, you do,” Lori said. “We have to have an equal number of male and female chaperones. That’s why I arranged this, when Miguel called to say he was in town.”

Miguel folded his arms over his impressive chest. He’d filled out some since high school. It had been, what, nine years since that night? Josie supposed she would have seen him at Lori’s wedding two years before if she hadn’t been battling a very unexpected case of chicken pox and missed the entire celebration.

Nine years. They were both twenty-seven now and their ten-year high school reunion would be next year. Josie could have waited longer to see Miguel again. She could have waited forever, happy to never again see the boy who’d broken her heart. “Don’t you have a suit jacket that matches your slacks? The chaperones dress up.”

Miguel opened his mouth, then shut it again and shrugged. “The dry cleaner killed my funeral and wedding suit. Sorry.”

Why did he seem so uncomfortable in his own clothing? “What have you been doing with yourself all these years?”

Lori held up a hand. “Save the reunion for the dance, okay? You’ve got to get over there and supervise the decorating committee.”

“You never told me that,” Josie protested. “What about dinner?”

“I promise to rig the cake walk at the holiday bazaar so you can win Ebony’s famous sweet potato pie if you just get your nalgas over there now,” Lori said.

“Okay.” She could put up with her ex for an entire sweet potato pie from the local bakery. Or, at least, she could stand to be in the same room as him for the evening, which was all she’d really committed to doing.

She glanced at him. He was pulling at the sleeves of his jacket. It looked a little short for him, as if he had dragged it out of his closet from some earlier phase of life. Something was very wrong with this picture. The boy she’d known was fearless, good at nearly everything he’d tried, though unreliable if he wasn’t enjoying himself. She’d expected him to be a success.

His face and body looked good, amazing even, and she knew her interest would have been perked if he’d been a stranger. But he was dressed like someone without a buck to spare. What had happened to him since he’d abruptly left Spruce Park all those years ago?