“You’re about to.”
I frowned, blinked. Uh, come again?My attention was pulled to the whispering cowboys by the window.
“Raging Bull? Try One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest.”
“Kid had it comin’ if you ask me. The Mighty King always falls.”
Then, the woman piped up.“That playboy finally found the only thing his billion dollar bank account couldn’t get him out of.”
“You’ve heard of Steele Shadows Security?” Jenkins said, pulling my attention back to him.
I nodded. No one passed through Berry Springs without hearing of the family-owned company that had turned into one of the most prestigious private security firms in the country.
“Your new patient’s one of them. Used to be, anyway.”
Used to be?Huh.
An oven dinged from the back reminding me of how late I already was. As much as I wanted to understand what it was about my new patient had gotten the bakeshop so riled up, I wouldn’t allow myself to be that late for the appointment. Raging Bull or not.
I pecked Mr. Jenkins on the cheek. “I’ll swing back by for those rolls.”
“Sounds good, dear.”
Jumping from under awning to awning, I darted down the sidewalk then pushed open the mirrored door that readKline and Associates.
“Whoa.Girl… what the… Hang on…” Zoey, our eccentric, hipster office manager jumped out of her seat, her overly lined eyes scanning me from head to toe.
“Oh myGod.”She jogged around the desk. “Whathappened?”She snatched Louis from my arms, her attention shifting to the designer bag.
“He fell.”
“Oh no. No, no, no.” Ignoring me completely, she spun back to the desk and began yanking tissues from the box, sending a few flying as she wiped down the handbag. Classic Zoey—dramatic to the core. With fire-red hair and more piercings than I could count, she blew every paycheck on vintage designer pieces—a personal jab at her ex-husband, the senator’s son who’d tried to tame her. She divorced him and took half his bank account instead. Zoey had been with Theo from the beginning and, despite her eagle eye for detail, had a reputation for missing the small stuff. Her age was anyone’s guess. Some days, with glittery eyeshadow and bubblegum lipstick, she looked barely old enough to buy wine. Other days, she dragged herself in like a stray cat, easily pushing forty—and that’s being generous.
I grabbed a few of the tissues, popped off my heel and dabbed the saturated insole. There wasn’t much worse than wet high heels.
Once satisfied with the bag, Zoey set it on the counter and turned back to me. Her face scrunched in disgust, her nose ring twinkling in the dim lobby lights.
“Girl… you look…”
“I know. It’s been a day. Don’t.” I blew out an exasperated breath, then shook out of my suit jacket, wet, dirty, andsmelling of old coffee. I smoothed my blouse as Zoey squatted and wiped down my skirt like a prelude to a cheesy office porno. I glanced out the window, as if the cowboys hadn’t gotten enough of a show with my legs split on the sidewalk.
“How did the horse therapy meeting with Theo go?” She asked as she stood.
I sighed. “I don’t know.”
“He didn’t give you a thumbs up?”
“More like the middle finger.”
“Dammit. Well, go flash these mile-long legs to him and try again. If I know anything about you, you’ll find a way to make it work.”
She was right, and those were the exact words I needed to hear at that moment.
“Okay…” Zoey stepped back and surveyed my outfit. “Got most of the mud off. Good day to wear black.”
“Where’s Cameron?”
“Had an appointment…” she lowered her voice and leaned in. “And by appointment, I mean a lunch date that he still hasn’t made it back from.”
