I follow him into the ballroom-like room. It has many purposes aside from this one—indoor hotel weddings, prom, parties. Its versatility means the Oleander will never go out of business, as someone will always need this room.

Devin and Trent are sitting next to Mom, suited like I knew they would be. I see that Alison, Trent’s wife and one of my best friends, has gotten away with this. Probably because Silvio, their four-year old, will be done at daycare and Aria, their ten-year-old, will be done with school.

Next time this happens, I’m offering to babysit.

Dad takes the seat next to Mom, and Brody sits between me and Nonna. It’s no coincidence that the Bond women are split up by the men. Nonna and Mom are one step past polar opposites, and I have more than enough of both of them in me that I’m pulled into every fight because they always think I’ll side with them. That and no one wants one of their famous word battles to take the spotlight off the mayor.

I sigh and tuck my purse beneath my chair. Mom catches my eye as I sit back up and winks as someone takes a seat next to me. Nonna, seeing this, turns, but her gaze focuses on the person sitting next to me.

And by the thrilled glint in her eye and the way her grin becomes mischievous and intrigued, I know exactly who’s sitting there.

“All right, cupcake?”

“Screw you,” I whisper harshly at him.

Drake leans into me. “We need to talk,” he says quietly into my ear.

“In my experience, us talking is the last thing we need to do because it always ends badly,” I hiss back.

“I know, but I was out of line yesterday. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted, and talking done.” I shrug and fold my arms, my eyes on the chairs set up on the makeshift stage in front of us.

“No, it isn’t.”

I sigh and look at him. “You don’t owe me an explanation, Drake.”

“No,” he agrees, his ice-blue eyes focused on mine. He brushes my hand with his. “But I owe you a do-over, at the very least.”

I unfold my arms and shake my head. “You’re crazy.”

“We’ve established that, but I think your nonna has one up on me. She looks like she’s planning a wedding in her head.”

Jesus, Nonna.

“We’re done talkin’,” I say, giving the crazy old lady a hard look.

Seriously, Devin proposed to Amelia in Italian at family dinner last week, and Nonna cried. And not just happy tears. She spent the next two hours singing in Italian and praising God for blessing my brother.

Then she zeroed on me like a sniper. I could see it running through her head. Two down, two to go, and we’re going in age order.

I Googled mail-order husbands that night. The fact that a lot were Russian only made it all the more tempting.

Brody had a fling with a girl with Puerto Rican heritage a couple of years ago, and when Nonna found out she wasn’t Italian like he’d told her, she literally whipped his butt with her cane.

Got that on video, too.

“Nonna,” Trent warns. “Put your bow and arrow away. You ain’t Cupid.”

Nonna cackles.

She was a witch in a past life.

“Still not done,” Drake murmurs as the mayor and his opponent, Alistair Harvey, step out onto the stage flanked by their wives.

“Way done,” I argue.

Slowly, he trails his knuckles down the side of my thigh. I shiver.

“You sure about that, sweetheart?” he asks.

“Touch me again and I’ll put your balls into a blender.”

He does it again, and I thump his leg.

“Noelle!” Dad scolds me in an angry hiss when the mayor starts talking on the stage.

Drake’s shoulders shake with his silent laughter, and I glare at him out of the corner of my eye. Bastard. Total bastard.

Ugh. All the seats in this place and he picked the one right next to me. Of course he did. For what, to apologize? He could have sent a text. That way, Nonna wouldn’t take a perfectly innocent seating arrangement and spin it into something huge that has me popping out babies within the next eighteen months, because that has to be what she’s thinking.

She has wedding bells in her eyes and they have my name on them.

I’ve long accepted that she’ll never understand my lack of desire to get married. Maybe my job has jaded it despite the fact that I’ve grown up with two stable marriages in the form of hers to Nonno and my parents’. And now Trent and Alison. The day they break up is the day the world ends.

But me… I don’t see it. It’s a piece of paper and promises said in front of loads of people. Hell, when I was six, I married Danny Bower in front of half of our class and we even signed our names on the wrapper of a Twinkie. We broke up three days later.

He was a total dick anyway. Still is.

Maybe, when I’m in a relationship with someone that’s steady and stable and safe, I’ll feel differently. Maybe I’ll want that one day, but right now, I’m happy to be with someone.

I take a deep breath as Drake shifts beside me. Jesus, I cannot think about this crap when I’m next to him. It’s total craziness. I have no idea what this is between us apart from totally screwed up.

On the stage, the mayor steps back from the podium, and the room breaks out into raucous applause. Brody elbows me, clapping, and I unenthusiastically join everyone else.

Drake leans over, clapping himself as someone whistles behind us. “How much of that did you listen to?”

“Not a damn word.”

He laughs as the mayor calls for quiet so Alistair Harvey can say his piece before they go head-to-head. He does it with a shit-eating, smug look on his awful little face though, mind you. The man really needs to be told that men of his age can’t get away with a short-back-and-sides haircut without looking like a mushroom-head.

A high-pitched noise breaks through the continuous clapping—loud enough to hear it, but quiet enough that it’s indecipherable. Drake freezes next to me, his back straightening, and his hand moves to the gun at his hip with certainty. My body is reacting in the same way. I sit bolt upright, freezing mid-clap. And it’s there again, the noise. Except this time, it’s louder. Spine-chillingly intense. Even as it echoes through the closed door, it feels like pure pain. Total distress.

“Is that—” Brody starts.

“A scream?” I finish. “Yep.”

As if it’s synchronized, Drake, my brothers, and my father all stand up and turn toward the door. They storm past me, and I notice several other officers in the crowd running for the door, too. I grab Dad’s hand for his attention.

“Noelle,” he says, looking down at me. “You’re not a cop. Sit down.”

“Neither are you anymore,” I shoot back and stand, making sure to get my purse from under my chair on the way. “Do you even have your gun with you?”

“It’s in the car.”

“Yeah, well, mine is in here.” I release his hand to tap my purse. “Stay close to me, okay?”

“You are the only woman I’d ever let protect me,” he mutters, laughing to himself.

I grin.

Dad closes his hand around mine and whistles to clear a path through the people rushing toward the exit. Typical Holly Woods—everyone has to know everything. And I do… But only from a professional standpoint. Yeah, I have a gun and can protect people.

I’m basically a pretend cop. Pow pow.

I run, somewhat awkwardly in heels, with Dad to where I can see the back of Drake’s head. He’s huddled with my brothers and some other cops in a small group, and I let Dad’s hand go.

If there’s a drama this big, the sheriff will be around. And if there’s the sheriff, there’s my dad. They’re worse than me and Bek.

“What’s going on?” I ask Devin when he breaks away from the main group.

“Mayor’s daughter has lost it,” he whispers back.

I frown and jog over to where Drake is. My heels click-clack against the wooden floor, and my instinct is screaming for me to pull my gun out.

Drake turns, presumably hearing me coming, and the look he gives me is enough to make me falter. His features are smooth but hard—his jaw is clamped tight, and his eyes have that ridiculously hot don’t-fuck-with-me look in them.