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"The salon. I want you to meet Bonnie properly."

Right. Normal life. Pretend everything was fine while my world burned down in digital flames.

Outside, the Tennessee humidity hit like a warm, wet blanket. Angelica practically skipped to the red Corvette.

"So." She slid into the driver's seat with a grin that meant trouble.

"So what?"

"Code." She drew out his name in a sing-song voice. "Tall, dark, and brooding. Just your type."

"I don't have a type."

"Please. I've seen your ex-husband and every co-star you've fake-dated for publicity." She started the engine, revving it unnecessarily. "You like them complicated and emotionally unavailable. Code's basically catnip for you."

"He barely looked at me."

"Oh, he looked." She pulled out of the parking space with enough speed to press me back into the leather seat. "He noticed everything about you in the first ten seconds, then spent the rest of the meeting pretending he hadn't."

"That's ridiculous."

"That's military training. Assess, catalog, compartmentalize." She took a corner too fast, tires squealing slightly. "Plus, did you see how he shut down Jase? Our Code doesn't like people knowing his business."

"You don't even know him that well, do you?"

"I know enough." She glanced at me sideways. "The Drakos men are all cut from the same cloth. Protective, loyal, and absolutely terrible at expressing emotions until the right woman comes along."

"I'm not looking for a man. I'm looking for someone to save my career."

"Por que não os dois?" She waggled her eyebrows.

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“Why not both?” Her laugh sounded like sunshine.

The salon stood a block off the town square, a neat brick building with Trinity painted in gold script across the window. Through the glass, I could see styling chairs and women laughing.

"Angelica!" A blonde woman appeared in the doorway as we parked. "Perfect timing. I have forty minutes before my next client."

This had to be Bonnie. She looked exactly like I pictured Jase's wife would look—put together but approachable, wearing designer jeans that she probably bought on sale and a silk blouse that managed to look both professional and comfortable.

"Bonnie, this is Kit." Angelica made the introduction. "Kit, Bonnie. She keeps half the women in Jasper Creek looking fabulous."

"Nice to meet you." Bonnie's handshake was firm, her smile genuine. "Jase mentioned you were in town. I'm sorry about what you're dealing with."

"Thanks."

"Coffee?" She grabbed her purse. "Java Jolt is just around the corner, and I need caffeine if I'm going to handle Mrs. Forrest's color this afternoon. That woman changes her mind about what she wants every five minutes."

We walked around the corner to Java Jolt. The coffee shop buzzed with the lunch crowd grabbing pastries and iced drinks. But nobody stared. A few people nodded at Bonnie and Angelica, smiled politely at me, then went back to their conversations.

"See?" Bonnie led us to a corner table that had just opened up. "The beauty of small towns. Everyone knows who you are, but they're too polite to bother you."

"It's weird." I sat facing the room, old habit from years of avoiding paparazzi. "In LA, I'd have three phones in my face already."

"Oh, they're curious." Bonnie waved at the girl behind the counter. "Is Ruby working today?” she asked the girl.

“She’s on break. She’ll be back in ten minutes.”