As I scrolled through Rowan’s emails, responding or deleting as necessary, something caught my eye. “Hey, who’s Bree Vincent?” The moment the question passed my lips, Rowan’s entire frame locked up tight.

All humor had fled his features as he looked at me, and I felt a chill race up my spine from the ice in his gaze. The warmth disappeared, replaced by the frigid cold I hadn’t seen since the first weeks of us working together.

“What did you say?”

“Uh… Bree Vincent?” I repeated hesitantly. “There’s, like, six emails from her in the past two days.” I tried for a lighthearted laugh as I asked, “She a crazy stalker fan or something?” but it fell flat.

“Or something,” he responded in a low, menacing voice as he removed my feet from his lap and stood from the couch. “Delete them,” he demanded as he started from the living room.

I couldn’t tell you why I insisted on pushing. Every fiber in my body rallied against it, but my curiosity forced me to push him further. “But don’t you want to know what they say? I mean, the woman’s pretty insistent. Maybe she’s a reporter or something—”

“I said fucking delete them!” he bellowed, startling me enough that I jerked back. A combination of emotions played out on his face as he raked both his hands through his hair in severe agitation and began a short, clipped pace. The anger, I recognized; it was the other one I was unsure of. Was it pain… sorrow? I couldn’t quite tell, and that ate at my insides. “Please, Navie. Just… just listen to me, okay. For once, don’t argue. Just do your fucking job.”

His words were harsh, cutting, and my normal reaction would have been to spit venom right back at him. But something stopped me. My gut told me there was a reason for his overreaction, that I shouldn’t take it personally, that this wasn’t a battle I should pick. So I went against my nature and gave him a quick nod. “Okay,” I whispered.

Without another word, he stormed from the room. I waited until I heard the slam of his office door before turning back to the computer sitting in my lap. My fingers didn’t hesitate once as I highlighted each of the emails and did a hard delete, ensuring they disappeared completely.

We didn’t talk about it.

Other than a quick apology for his behavior, Rowan and I never mentioned the emails or Bree again. A week passed, and every time a new one showed up in his inbox, I did the same thing I’d done with all the others, deleted them. I never told him. He never asked. Despite how badly I wanted to know, I forced myself to push all thoughts of Bree to the back of my mind, telling myself it was none of my business. We carried on like it had never happened. And I tried to convince myself that everything was fine… even though I knew it wasn’t.

That was how I ended up at Pepper’s boutique two days before the American Heart Association event, with Rowan in tow, a smug grin tipping up his lips as we pushed through the front door.

“Ooh, girl!” I heard exclaimed the instant I stepped inside. The owner of that voice popped up in front of me, as if out of thin air. “Aren’t you just de-lish! Mmm mm mmm.” The man I’d never seen before in my life gave an exaggerated snap of his fingers before taking me by the shoulders and turning me in a circle. As I momentarily faced a laughing Rowan, I made sure to give him my best ‘I hate you’ glare, even though it had no effect. “You’re like a sexy Pollyanna, baby girl. I’d like to stick you in my pocket and take you home with me. And those eyes! You’re an absolute doll!”

“Uh… thanks?” It wasn’t until he stepped back that I got a good look at the man in all his flamboyance. Salmon-colored, skin-tight skinny jeans hugged every inch of his thin, yet lean, legs. His teal polo shirt—equally as tight—should have clashed with the pants, yet somehow, it worked brilliantly. The dude wore the collar popped up with a tribal scarf in accenting colors wrapped around his neck. Everything from the trendy boat shoes on his feet to the fedora covering his chocolate-brown hair screamed fab-u-lous. The guy accessorized better than I did! But it was the Calvin Klein model-esque face that did it for me. He was stunning, all sharp cheekbones and chiseled jawline. An absolute pretty boy. And had it not been for the amazing compliments he’d given me the moment I walked in, I would have hated him on the spot—for the simple fact that the guy was clearly competition when it came to landing a man.

“No thanks needed, sugar. I think you and I are going to be the best of friends.”

“And who exactly are you?” Rowan asked, pressing close against my back.

“Mmm,” the man hummed approvingly as he leaned to the side in order to run his eyes up and down Rowan’s frame the best he could.

“Give me an hour, big boy, and I’ll be whoever you want.”

I burst into a fit of laughter at the man in front of me at the same time Rowan pushed closer to me, as though I could shield him in some way from a guy who weighed about fifty pounds less and stood several inches shorter than him.

“You’re right,” I told him. “I think you and I are gonna be great friends.”

“What can I say?” He grinned at me before making sexy eyes in Rowan’s direction. “I’m very likable.” Rowan grunted uncomfortably, causing me to laugh once again. “I’m Tomas,” the man said, reaching out to shake my hand. “Toe-mas,” he annunciated, bringing my hand to his lips and pressing a kiss against my knuckles. “Like Thomas, but with a little… flair,” he finished, giving his shoulders a shake.

“Well, Tomas.” I giggled. “I’m Navie.”

“Ooh, I love it!” he exclaimed with an excitable clap. “That name fits you perfectly! So much better than Jennifer or Tiffany.” His lips curled up as if those names would be an insult to my very being.

“And this is Rowan,” I offered, stepping out of the way completely so Tomas had a perfect view. Who was I to deny a person their little piece of happiness?

“Traitor,” Rowan rumbled under his breath as Pepper came from the back of the shop.

“Yay! You’re here!” Done up in her typical Rockabilly fab, she rushed over to me and wrapped me in a big hug. “And you brought a babysitter?” she asked, giving Rowan a wink.

“You’re hilarious, Pep,” he shot back with an eye roll. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell and held it up. “You know, I could always call Griffin to join us and make a little party of it?”

Her smile morphed into a fierce glare before she took hold of my hand and started leading me away. “Come on, Navie. Let’s go get you the most fabulous, expensive dress we can find.” She shot a smirk over her shoulder at Rowan. “I have Rowan’s card on file. Tomas, please make sure Mr. Locklaine is very comfortable.”

I shot a look over my shoulder as I giggled. Rowan’s face went surprisingly pale at the same time Tomas offered, “My pleasure, sweetheart. My pleasure indeed.”

It usually went without saying that I absolutely hated shopping. I was barely over five feet tall with more boobs and butt than I would have preferred. Finding clothes that fit my frame was next to impossible.

But watching Rowan coming out of his skin every time Tomas made a play made trying on countless dresses so worth it.

“So, what are your plans after this?” Tomas asked. “I’m thinking me, you, a bottle of tequila and a couple of neckties. Make an evening of it.”

From my place behind the dressing room curtain, I had to pause in pulling up the next gown as I leaned over in laughter, clutching my stomach as I wheezed in a breath.