“You like sports, and you don’t care if a dude brings you flowers and shit. Plus, you’re a babe.”

She wasn’t a babe, and she hadn’t come close to falling in love with any of them, maybe because every relationship she’d been in had eventually made her feel . . . almost empty, as if a hole she didn’t understand had opened inside her. Right now, her aversion to relationships was a benefit. One less complication in a life that was complicated enough.

Hottie was a decent guy. His stories about life on the force were interesting, and his attention wandered only once, when a super-hot brunette in a tight sweater walked past their table, but since even Piper had noticed her, she couldn’t fault him. He asked her out to dinner for the following weekend. Amber had given her a ticket to the Lyric for that night, and she told him she already had plans.

Being turned down for a night at the opera seemed to surprise him. “You’re an unusual person,” he said.

“And you’re a nice guy, but it’s really not a good time for me to date.”

“All right. We won’t date. We’ll just hang out sometimes, okay?”

He had good stories, and she really did need a contact in the police department. “Okay. Pals. No dating.” She paused. “And I’m not hooking up with you.”

She could see he didn’t believe her.

***

By the next night, Piper was doing the ultra-depressing job of trying to figure out what to pack and what to get rid of. Subleasing her apartment was no longer up for debate, and Amber’s professor friend was moving in tomorrow. His rent would cover her mortgage and condo dues, temporarily postponing her need to sell. She kept telling herself she wouldn’t have to live in her cousin Diane’s tiny basement apartment forever—an apartment with no separate entrance, a moldy bathroom, and worst of all, her cousin Diane, who was a nonstop complainer. As for Diane’s two bratty kids . . . Piper suspected her cousin was keeping the rent ridiculously cheap so she could be guaranteed a built-in babysitter, a prospect even more depressing than living in a basement.

Piper was leaving most of her things behind for Amber’s professor, but she had a couple of boxes of personal items to pack up, including a grubby stuffed pink pig she’d rediscovered in her bottom drawer. Oinky. His seams were frayed, his plush fur bedraggled. He’d been her childhood lovey, a baby shower present to her mother.

When Piper had turned five, Duke had announced that Oinky had to go. “Only babies carry around crap like that. You want everybody to think you’re a baby?” She’d told him she didn’t care what people thought and that Oinky wasn’t going anywhere.

Despite considerable pressure, she’d held her ground until she was seven. That’s when the neighborhood bully had knocked her down and made her cry. Duke had been furious, not at the bully, but at her for crying. “We don’t have sissies in this family. You get back out there and kick that kid’s ass and don’t let me goddam see you cry again.”

She could no longer remember exactly what she’d done to Justin Termini, who’d later become her first boyfriend, but she did remember the awful knowledge that she’d failed Duke. That same night, she’d grabbed Oinky, thrust him in Duke’s face, and then stomped outside to fling her pig in the trash. She’d been amply rewarded with a big hug, a trip to get ice cream, and praise for being tough as any boy in town. Duke had never discovered that she’d climbed out on the roof that night, shimmied down the porch post, and retrieved Oinky from the garbage can. She’d hidden her pig away for the rest of her childhood.

Oinky had long since outlived his usefulness, but she couldn’t get rid of him, and she tucked him in the box with her sweatshirts. She took a break to make herself a sandwich and carried it to the bay window. As she looked down on the twilit street, she saw a metallic-blue Tesla pull into a parking space. Her sandwich stalled on its way to her mouth as the driver’s door swung open and Cooper Graham got out. Her appetite vanished. She hadn’t returned his attorney’s calls, and he’d come after her himself.

The downstairs newlyweds were heading up the sidewalk. She’d seen one of the men in a Stars sweatshirt, so Graham wouldn’t have any trouble getting them to let him in the building. In less than a minute, he’d be pounding on her door. She could either refuse to answer or meet the beast head on.

A no-brainer. She’d been through enough lately. She wasn’t answering.

But cowering inside her apartment proved too much for her, and by his third knock, she’d stalked across the room and jerked open the door. “What do you want?”

4

He pushed into her living room, bringing a megablast of hostile energy right along with him. “Keith has been skimming me.”

“Your red-haired bartender? Yeah, I know.”

Six feet three inches of angry male entitlement planted himself in the middle of her carpet. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her chin shot up. “What the hell? I did tell you!”

“Not in a way I could believe!”

She stared at him, exchanging glare for glare.

He looked away first, raking his fingers through his hair only to have it spring back into rumpled position. “So maybe I wasn’t in the mood to listen.”

She shoved the door closed before all her neighbors came running out to investigate. “I doubt you’re ever in the mood to listen.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Her frustration got the best of her. “You’re so used to feeling superior that you’ve forgotten there are people who might know something you don’t.”

One of his big, competent hands landed on the blade of his hip. “What’s your deal anyway? Do you feel like such a failure that you need to attack anybody who’s successful?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know. Fuck you.”

He laughed. A genuine jolt of amusement that seemed to shock him as much as her and quickly faded. “How did you figure it out?”

“Never let any guy believe he’s superior to you,” Duke used to say. “Except your old man.”

“Simple powers of observation.” She purposely reclaimed the sandwich she could no longer imagine eating. “Something I’m good at.”

He cocked his head at her. “Educate me.”