I put the last of the cupcake into my mouth and screw up the wrapper before dropping it back onto the plate. “Thanks, Mel.” I put a ten down on the counter. “Can I get a raspberry one to go?”

“There’s the Noelle I know and love.” She winks, laughing, and turns away. “Hey, have you met the mayor’s new campaign manager?”

“Oh, yeah. We’re best friends.”

She throws a smirk over her shoulder. “She’s a bitch—and a mean one at that. Told me she’s making sure every business has a flyer for the mayor in their window.”

“I’ll expect her visit.”

“Please do. And tell her not to drop anymore around here. They didn’t agree with my paper shredder.” Mel hands me the cupcake in a small, cute, blue box tied with a silver box. “Try not to sugar overdose, okay?”

“Sugar is my oxygen,” I reply, getting up and backing out of the store. “Thanks, Mel!”

“Anytime, doll.” She waves and turns to someone bringing a book to the register.

Back to the office it is.

“She’s still alive!” Mike laughs, leaning against Grecia’s doorframe with a mug of coffee in his hands.

“Alive and kicking and screaming.” I throw one arm in the air and pose. “Is everyone here? While I’m here, we may as well have a meeting.”

“Nope,” he answers. “Dean is out and I’m about to go find out if Finn Hilton’s girlfriend is doing the dirty before he hands her a two-carat diamond ring.”

“Nice. To the ring, not the doing the dirty. Is that still hot?” I point to the mug, and upon seeing it full and steaming, I extract it from his grip and sip. “Ew. Too much sugar.”

“Did you just say, ‘Too much sugar’?” Carlton asks. “Aren’t you addicted to cupcakes?”

I hide the box behind my back. “What kind of fairytales have y’all been tellin’ him, huh?”

“Every one goin’,” Mike replies. “But he’s so keen on impressin’ his new boss that there are four Gigi’s cupcakes waiting on your desk.”

I narrow my eyes and look at my new kid. “What cupcakes?”

Carlton looks up at the ceiling and ticks them off his fingers. “Triple chocolate torte, lemon, the cookie one, and a champagne one.”

“I’m gonna keep you,” I tell him, pointing at him. “You’re good.” I swear he blushes when I turn to Grecia. “I apologize in advance for my messages.”

She simply smiles, her dark eyes sparkling as she grabs the stack of cards. “Jessica Shearer stopped by around an hour ago. She wants us to put the mayor’s campaign flyer on our window and coffee table. I told her to bring them back when my boss was here because I don’t make those decisions.”

“Did you kick her on the way out?”

“Whoa, tiger,” Mike laughs. “You’ve met?”

“Oh, we’ve met.”

“And she hates her because she’s Drake’s ex,” Bek adds, walking through the door. “Uh-huh. I spoke to Brody after you stormed out of the station after the briefing.”

“I did not storm out,” I protest. “And she’s his ex-fiancée. And that is not why I hate her. I hate her because she’s a smug and obnoxious bitch.”

“Well, that’s all right, then,” Mike snorts.

“Moving on,” Grecia interrupts, a small, teasing smile on her lips. “Drake called. Said not to pass on the message because you already know what he’s going to say.”

We need to talk.

“Yep. Next.”

“Nonna called. Asked if you have Amelia’s number to talk about Devin’s wedding since she clearly isn’t getting anywhere with you.”

“She’s learning.”

“And Trent stopped by. Told me to tell you to, ah”—she hesitates—“that you were absolutely right to walk out of the station this morning because a pissed Drake is a productive Drake.”

“A pissed Noelle is a productive Noelle, too. Did he say if Drake was pissed at me?”

Bek laughs. “According to Brody, Drake personally escorted Jessica out of the building and told her to call ahead next time she wants to come by because she’s detrimental to the investigation.”

Is it bad that I want to whoop with laughter? It is, isn’t it? So bad. But hey, I’m already going to hell, so I may as well go with a bang.

I laugh. Loud. “Okay. I’m gonna go write all of this stuff up, call everyone I need to, and hope Jessica comes back in so I can show her a little bit of Holly Woods hospitality.”

“So, you’re going to wrap her up in toilet paper and throw a water bomb at her head?” Bek questions, an eyebrow raised.

“Do we have either of those things?” Carlton asks, looking a little worried.

“Yeah, do we?” My voice is sadly more hopeful.

“You know, you’re a dreadful excuse for a twenty-eight-year-old businessowner.” Trent steps through. “No need to call me. I wanna talk to you.”

“Can we reschedule? I’m real busy, so…” Again, I hide the cupcake.

He slowly shakes his head, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops.

“Aw, hell. Okay.” I walk to the bottom of the stairs and then turn. “Hey, Carlton. Can you get me Vince Fulton’s life story?”

He shrugs. “No problem.”

“Thanks.” I shoot him a beaming smile, but it drops when I see Trent’s hard look at me.

Okay. Sheesh. I’m going up the stairs, Dad. Fucking hell.

He follows me into my office and kicks the door shut behind him. I have the feeling this isn’t going to be good. Now it could be the tight set of his jaw or the tense way he has his shoulders pulled back, or maybe it’s the way his brow is furrowed over his dark eyes glinting with anger.

“I guess your message to Grecia was a load of shit, huh?”

“Not all of it. Just the last part.”

“So, you’re not here to tell me off for running away?”

He scoffs. “No. You were right to leave. Otherwise, y’all woulda had a blazin’ fight and nothin’ woulda gotten done today.”

And that is, in hindsight, exactly why I left. “So, why are you here looking like you want to ask Mom to ground me for the next week?”

“Because angry Drake is not a fucking nice guy to be around.”

“Hey!” I hold my hands up. “I am not the one who didn’t tell the person he’s seeing about an ex-fucking-fiancée. Or even think to mention it as soon as he saw her. He made me sit there the whole damn time while she was staring at me and I had no idea why she hates me.”

“Did you ever ask him about anyone in his past?”

“No, because that isn’t my place, Trent. That’s something he has to make the decision to share when he’s ready to.”

“Have you told him why you left Dallas?”

“That is completely different!” I clench my hands into fists. “You know why I left Dallas. You know that wasn’t an easy choice. My guilt ripped that choice from me. Don’t you dare throw that in my face, because it has nothing to do with Drake.”

“Because that’s your decision to share it, right?” His eyebrows quirk upward. “Because he’s never asked you about it. Yet you’re pissed because he didn’t tell you about Jessica.”

“At the end of our first date, he walked out.” I perch on the edge of my desk. “When I asked him about the then-stalker case, he clammed up and got pissed about fidelity and stuff. And even when we talked, he didn’t mention it. He’s the one pursuing this, Trent. If he wants this, then he should respect me enough to be honest with me if he has issues about trust and things.”

“You were cheated on.”

“He knows that. But I don’t have trust issues.”

“That’s exactly why you want to punch his ex.”

“Again, I want to punch her because she hated me on sight. Now, I want to shoot her. Big difference.”

“Women. Y’all are fucked up,” he sighs, shaking his head.

“No, we’re not. Dude, not all of us can have easy, happy marriages like you have. Not all of us know when we’ve met the one right away. Nothing about me and Drake is easy. We fight more than anyone I’ve ever met, and no sooner do we make up than we’re fighting again. It’s so complicated I don’t know where to start with it.”