A brown-headed guy popped his Wayfarers on top of his head and gave me an exaggerated once-over. “Well, hello, beautiful.” His chest puffed out as he swaggered closer. This fool’s behavior reminded me of what Pa called peacocking. I expected the guy to start strutting and clucking at any moment.

I stood and smoothed my palms over the sides of my ratty jeans, looking around and finally spotting Vance making his way out of the garage with his own grocery sack and a bag of ice. Wearing a preppy outfit himself, he caught sight of me and offered a quizzical smile.

“Hi,” I mumbled to the guy without taking my eyes off Vance as he neared us.

“You have your own driver, sweetheart?” Flirty Guy asked with an air of arrogance.

I leveled him with a look. “Yeah. Me.”

He balked. “You’re a limo driver? Wow. Got a card so I can book your services?” He gave me a devilish grin, looking rather pleased with himself.

The shiny group chuckled and giggled behind him.

“I thought you had people for that, RJ,” a redheaded guy spoke dryly.

RJ combed through his hair, blatantly eyeing parts of me he had no business eyeing. “Yeah, but I wouldn’t mind having this one all to myself.” He winked a dark eye, looking slimy instead of enticing.

I didn’t admit it out loud, but I knew RJ was Robert Joseph Warner III. The son of our current governor. I was sure that if I paid more attention to such, the identities of the others would have been obvious, but there was only so much intimidation I could endure. Of course Vance had found his people at school.

It made me wonder what in the heck was I thinking going to him, regretting my rebellion of driving past the farm earlier. Surely I had no business amongst this elite group.

“Austin,” Vance said, his voice surprised yet guarded, clearly missing or ignoring RJ’s flirty comments.

I stepped away from RJ’s advances and mumbled a rough “Hey” to Vance.

He made it to the bottom of the steps and looked up at me. “Everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah . . .” I scanned the curious onlookers behind him, all looking like Ken and Barbie dolls, before resettling on Vance’s brilliant-green eyes. “Just wanted to stop by and say hey.” I hitched a thumb toward the Silver Bullet. “But I’ll come back another time.”

“No.” Vance took the steps two at the time and I braced myself for one of his full-force hugs. My throat even tightened with anticipation and need for his comfort. He zoomed right on past me to unlock the door, reaching inside to turn off the alarm. A few beeps later he returned to the porch. “You guys head on inside.” He beckoned his friends and handed off the bag of ice and sack to a dark-blonde permed prep, who seemed to think the gesture was quite special.