The joke went right over my head, but the warmth did not. Amber pushed a margarita toward me.
“Drink.”
“I’ve got five hours left to drive.”
“Then one won’t kill you.”
Regan tilted her head. “Where you headed?”
“Santa Fe.”
That earned a look. Quick. Shared. Gone almost before I caught it.
I frowned. “What?”
Regan smiled too smoothly. “Nothing.”
Amber lifted her drink. “Cute town.”
That was not convincing. “Where are you all from?”
“Outside town,” Regan said. “Further into the desert.”
I nodded, accepting the margarita because apparently this was the portion of the night where I trusted beautiful strangers with vague answers. “New job.”
Their attention sharpened.
“Doing what?” Regan asked.
“Environmental science. Water contamination, land impact, field analysis. Very glamorous if you enjoy dirt, spreadsheets, and explaining to men why runoff does, in fact, run off.”
Amber whistled. “Smart girl.”
“Depends who you ask.”
Regan leaned in. “Give me your phone.”
I laughed. “Why?”
“You might need me.”
“It’s charging inside.”
“Then remember this,” she said, pointing at me with all the authority of a woman used to being obeyed. “When you get intotown, go to the coffee shop on Main and ask for Regan. I don’t work there but they know me.”
I stared at her. “What are you, the mayor?”
“Unofficially.”
The table cracked up again.
Then my brain finally caught up to my life. “Oh, shit.”
Regan blinked. “What?”
“My cat.”
Amber’s face lit. “You brought a cat?”
