“See,” Carson says. “Even you can’t contain her. But I know where she’s at, she’s over at the FoCo Cinema having coffee.”

“How do you know?”

“She goes there every day at ten. How do you not know?”

I walk to the far side of my office, the side that faces the street, and peek out. And sure enough, who do I see? Ashleigh. Pushing that f**king stroller and flanked on either side by the red-vested canine face-eaters.

“She really does meet Ashleigh there?” I ask Carson.

He shrugs. “I dunno. I haven’t had coffee with her in a couple weeks and Ashleigh is new in town. But I know for a fact that she meets Rook.”

“Yeah, but Rook is going out to the farm today, so—” And just as the words are coming out of my mouth, Rook pulls the Shrike Bikes truck into a parking space out front of the cinema.

I dial the phone one more time, but I already know Ronnie won’t pick up, so my feet are busting ass out of my office and over towards the back door that leads outside.

She thinks she can just ignore me?

Huh.

No.

Chapter Two

VERONICA

Metallica’s Breadfan is blaring in my earbuds and at least a dozen people sitting nearby are shootin’ me the look. The music’s not even full blast, so they can just move the f**k along and get their mid-morning coffee somewhere else. The Fort Collins Cinema is one of my haunts and that’s the way it’s gonna stay. I eat here in the restaurant four times a week and catch a movie at least twice a month. I’m a local.

So I’m banging my head a little, watching as the work crew paints the outside of the Shrike Bikes building—which sits diagonal from the FCC—when my song is interrupted by a ding. I glance down at my phone, then ignore it.

It’s Spencer. Again.

When he said he’d need me on call if I took the job as his personal assistant, he was not kidding. That mother dings my ass seven, eight times a day.

I continue enjoying my music, watching for Rook. Ever since she and Ronin got a place in Fort Collins, we meet here every day for coffee.

I see Ashleigh first. She comes now too. I’m not sure I like her, mostly because I’m not sure I like Ford, but the baby is cute. And I like her dogs, even if they are trained to eat the face off anyone who messes with her.

Ashleigh is one of those walkers. She walks every-fucking-where. They live all the way down Mountain Ave, across from the antique trolley station. It’s like a couple miles away, and yet that girl walks. I live like two blocks away and every damn day I’m tempted to drive the car. I was gonna take it today, but I sold it last night. So I’m out of a car.

I suppose Ash has to walk those dogs sometime though. And the baby likes the stroller, so I don’t judge.

Rook pulls up just as Ashleigh is hucking that humongo stroller over the curb and then they walk in together, making the bells jingle on the door. Ashleigh gets more looks than I do. She’s got a stroller, two mean-ass-looking dogs with bright red vests, plus a baby.

And she’s married to Ford Aston. That’s like sixty-seven strikes against her right there.

She’s way worse than me. I’ve got like ten. One for being a Vaughn. One for being a tattoo artist. One for being blonde. One each for being associated with Ford, Spencer, Rook, and Ronin. One for being poor. One for being mean. And two for having big tits. That’s eleven, but who’s counting.

Rook, she’s only got two strikes. One for being Rook, since everyone knows her from the news. And one for being perfect in every way. Rook is so perfect, she makes people want to gag. But they can’t. Because not only is she perfect, she’s sweet. Not a mean bone in that girl’s body. I’ve been doing my best to bitch her up a little, but she’s a terrible student. She’s polite and happy and she smiles. Like all the time. And since she and Ronin live in FoCo now too, we’re all just like one big happy family.

Except I’m the odd one out since Spencer won’t acknowledge me.

I unplug my earbuds and stuff them in my purse.

“Hey, Ronnie!” Rook chimes as they approach. “Sorry I’m late, I had—”

My phone rings and interrupts her. “Damn Spencer.” I silence the call and turn the ringer to vibrate. “Sorry, Rook.”

Ashleigh’s dogs crawl under the table and one begins to pant on my ankle. The baby shoots me a gummy grin and I smile back. Babies are damn cute. I think Kate knocks off at least thirty-two points against Ashleigh, that’s how adorable she is. “Hi, Kate!” I beam. She squeals at me. Rook and Ash disappear to go order coffee and my phone vibrates on the table.

Goddammit! I turn the ringer off, but a few seconds later the screen lights up with a text. Answer your f**king phone, Bomb!

I weigh my options and then decide to ignore the next silent call. In fact, I throw that damn phone right into my skull-covered Betsey Johnson purse.

The girls return and Rook chats us up about her new job as front door girl at the new Shrike Bikes showroom and garage. I glance out the window as she talks to get a visual of her in there being Miss Congeniality, but all I see is Spencer walking diagonally across the street. He’s got a mean look on his face. In fact, he looks pretty f**king pissed off. Rook is still talking to Ashleigh—about what, I have no idea—so I stand up, grab my purse, and bolt to the back of the cinema where the back door leads to an alley.

It’s starting to rain outside, and there’s no way I’m gonna be able to run in high heels. So I slip my shoes off my feet and throw them in my purse. I start walking quickly down the alley, my bare feet splashing through puddles, and stepping on stones that make me wince. I look over my shoulder to see if anyone is coming after me and slam right into Spencer’s rock-hard chest.