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Coop raked a hand through his hair as he glanced back down the driveway, then at my car. “This could be a problem.”
“No kidding.”
Crap.
I should have just left earlier.
“We’ll figure it out,” Coop promised. “I know who owns some of these cars, we’ll just make them move them.” Yeah, that would be difficult. Half those people were probably already trashed.
There was a note under the windshield wiper of my car, and it had my name on it. He frowned and hesitated as I reached for it.
“Do you want me to stay or should I give you some privacy?” The tight lines at the corners of his mouth promised me that wasn’t what he wanted to offer, but he had offered it.
That meant something.
Maybe that was why I said, “It’s okay.”
I slit the envelope open, and there was a note inside in neat—not typed this time—lettering.
I wantedto talk to you tonight, but you seemed very sad. I don’t know why and it’s not my business. I like to believe that everything works out for a reason. Maybe we can try again soon. I hope you like the roses. I wish I’d planned ahead, then I would have brought you one. Next time. I promise.
“Well,I guess you don’t have to worry about him,” I told Coop, and he glanced from the note to me. Before he could respond though, there was a shout that echoed from the back. What the hell?
But Coop gripped my arm as the chant reached us.
“Fight! Fight! Fight!”
Oh. Crap.
Chapter Three
P.S. I Ha…
“Frankie wait…” Coop tried to stop me as I headed for the path to circle the house. The shouting had gotten louder, drowning out the music. Coop jogged next to me and caught my arm.
I hesitated and glanced at him as he caught my arm again.
“Not a good idea,” he said. There were squeals, and then a shout.
That—that was Jake.
“Son of a bitch,” Coop swore.
Jake was fighting, and a sudden fear swept through me. “Were you guys watching my car?” Had they seen someone who left the note?
“No,” Coop told me firmly, but kept hold of my arm as we reached the gate to the pool. The partygoers were gathered in a half-circle, blocking our view of the covered porch. They were still chanting.
“Shut up,” Jake bellowed again. “Dammit, Bubba—let him go.”
Shock rippled through me. Ian?
The crowd scattered a little, but everyone had their phones out, and my phone buzzed in my pocket. So did Coop’s. The noise level began to climb, and it gave me my first good view. Archie was sitting on the ground, his nose bloody and his face reddened and swelling. Jake had a hold of Ian and had dragged him a few feet back.
“C’mon,” Coop said. “They can sort it out.”
But my gaze locked with Archie’s, and my heart squeezed. Ian had punched him. I knew why. I should have kept my mouth shut. “Coop, go help him.”
My best friend stared at me. “You’re kidding, right?”
