Page 43 of Home Town

Instead, the sight that greeted him stopped him dead in his tracks where he stood on the lawn between the two houses’ driveways.

Josie stood on her front doorstep, barefoot, dressed in a tight little top and the shortest shorts he’d ever seen. So short he swore he could see the lower part of her butt cheeks hanging out.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

Oh, no.

The worst part was that she was currently laughing at something the guy who stood in front of her had said.

The guy in the tank top that had no doubt been specifically chosen to show off the suntanned muscles of the arms he was currently flexing as he flirted with Josie.

Cut-off shorts and work boots completed the stranger’s look.

That, combined with the overly long hair that kept falling in his face, causing him to sweep it away in what looked like a practiced move, gave him the appearance of some sort of homeless hippy.

Or maybe a beach bum waiting for the next wave. The problem with that was, in Sidney, New York they were about as far from any beach as you could get.

Corey realized he was standing there, car keys in his hand, just staring. Unable to move as uncertainty gripped him. He didn’t want to interrupt this strangely disturbing scene—why was he so disturbed anyway—but he also sure as hell didn’t want Josie to keep talking to this guy.

Especially not dressed the way she was.

Time to break this thing up. Corey was sure Quinn would appreciate him looking out for Josie in his absence. Besides, they had plans—he and Josie. Things to do. People to see. A compass to find… Whoever this person was would just have to get over it.

Finally able to knock himself into action, Corey strode across the space between the two houses.

“Hey. You about ready to leave?” he asked Josie directly, purposely ignoring the interloper as well as the fact that she was by no means ready to go anywhere other than her bedroom to put on some damn clothes.

He hoped Fabio here got the unspoken message. That being that Corey belonged there with Josie. Not him—whoever he was.

“Oh, crap. Yeah. Sorry. I haven’t even gotten dressed yet for the day. I’ll be ready in like five minutes.”

“Okay.” Corey nodded.

Then he did turn his gaze to the new guy as if to say, why are you still here? Didn’t you hear? She has to leave. With me. Go away.

None of those words actually came out of Corey’s mouth. He figured the way he held himself, with crisp, sharp, military posture as well as his crisply shaped and closely cropped regulation haircut—the opposite of this kid’s in every way—spoke for him.

He hoped it said to the guy, who had to be Josie’s age, maybe even a couple of years younger, time to go, buddy. Nothing for you here.

“I’ll let you get going. Maybe I’ll see you later,” the kid said.

“Yeah, sure. Definitely. I’ll be around,” Josie replied with a bright smile, the likes of which she definitely never had spared for Corey. All he got from her were glares and scowls.

Why was she smiling?

As he contemplated that, she added, “And I’ll make sure I’m dressed next time.”

“Don’t dress on my account,” the guy said with a wink that had Corey clenching his fist in an effort to not punch him in that eye.

And dammit, was that a blush that crept into Josie’s cheeks?

Was she frigging blushing from this cheesy guy’s comment and a wink? Josie? The toughest chick he knew?

What the hell? What was going on?

With a smirk, the playboy vagabond spun and sashayed away. That was the only word Corey could come up with to describe it as he watched the kid turn everyday walking into something more like a stage show.

Freaking Mick Jagger wannabe.

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