“Damn, Sheldon.” Michael Reveritt wolf-whistled as he opened the back door for us. He stopped, blocking our entrance, as he looked me up and down. Holding a red cup in one hand and his other arm leaning against the doorframe, Corrigan’s fraternity brother smirked down at me. “You’ve got to be the best-looking serial killer I’ve ever met.”
My eyes went flat, and I shouldered past him, making sure my elbow pressed into his sternum. At his swift intake of breath, I grinned and pressed harder. Then I moved past, smirking back at him, “Oh, Ritt. How I’ve not missed you. At all.”
“Ha-ha.” He stepped back as Bryce and Denton followed me inside. Giving both a wary glance, he rubbed at his sternum and let the door close. Jerking a thumb over his shoulder, he said, “Everyone’s in rare form. We’ve
