I punch it, all three hundred and seventy-two horsepower leaping at my command, jerking the car forward and leaving a short streak of tire rubber behind us. For thirty seconds, it’s just me, my car, and the road, and life becomes very simple.

Finally, I see the stop sign up ahead and slow it down, following the law as I hit my signal and turn left to take us back toward downtown.

“You know they’re going to figure out who keeps laying rubber on the road, Miss Fast N’ Furious?” Tiffany says, even though she’s grinning. “And no, despite your saying it all the time, I’m not playing Thelma to your damn Louise.”

“And you know I’ve never even gotten a speeding ticket in my life,” I point out. “There are only two times I break the law—that road, and when someone pushes me to do something stupid.” I give her a side-eye.

She balks, offended. “I don’t dare you to do illegal things. That’s rule three.”

I shake my head. “Skinny dipping in a pond on private property, which required trespassing? Ring any bells? Or how about the time you dared me to dine and ditch? Wrong, girl . . . so wrong.”

She smiles sadly. “I felt so bad about that one. Did I ever tell you that I went back and paid the waitress, even gave her a big tip as an apology for being stupid kids?”

My mouth falls open. “One, we weren’t kids. We were nineteen and damn well knew better. Two, I went back and paid too, even gave her twenty bucks on our ten-dollar tab.”

We meet eyes, both surprised that we didn’t know the other had gone back. And then we burst out laughing. “Guess that waitress didn’t mind the dine and dash so much after all. She made bank on us!” Tiffany manages to gasp out between laughs. “But still, we don’t do illegal stuff.”

“Rule three is nothing too illegal. But yeah, as we get older, that’s a moving target. I’m not willing to risk jail time for a thrill.”

“Me neither. But handcuffs? Those are a different story. One you’d best get to telling about Mr. Wolfe unless you want to have this conversation in the middle of Macy’s.”

“Definitely not.”

“All right then, spill. Is he feeding you the D?” She asks this as though she might be asking about the weather, like it’s no big deal to be fucking your boss.

It is a big deal. A very big deal. And a very big D, too, but that’s beside the point. Mostly.

But first, “What makes you think we’ve been intimate?”

She giggles and feigns a fancy old-lady pearl-clutcher accent. “Been intimate? Oh, my heavens!” In her usual voice, she charges right on through me. “What’s got you so formal? It’s sex, Elle, not trade negotiations.”

I shrug, and she continues the charge, full steam ahead.

“Did he tell you we talked this morning?” At my head shake, she smirks. “Girl, your new boss came into work today with that look a man gets after one thing only, then he proceeded to actually smile, even when I threatened him. What magic did you work on him?”

“Just a little somethin’-somethin’ I like to call moi.” It would sound self-aggrandizing if I weren’t so obviously being sarcastic as fuck. “Wait, you threatened him? Colton Wolfe—your boss, my boss, and the one who manages our boss? You threatened him? Have you lost your mind?”

She plants her palm over her chest. “Do you think I don’t have your back, regardless of whose dick you’re getting? You could be screwing the president of the company, the mayor, or a mob boss who would kill me with zero hesitation, but I’m your girl. Ride or die, bitch. I’ve got you and am perfectly willing to threaten to chop damn near anyone to bits for you.”

“You threatened to chop Colton to bits?” I say blankly, still in shock.

She growls like a rabid raccoon when the trash man takes his stash away, her teeth flashing predatorially. “Well, I threatened to turn him into shark chum and spread him across the seven seas if you so much as shed a single tear.”

I blink, her words hitting home. “That is so . . . so . . . sweet! Oh, honey! Thank you!”

Okay, so I might be a bit hysterical, but I swear I’m going to tear up over how awesome my best friend is. And how creative and violent, but mostly how sweet.

At the next stop light, I awkwardly reach across the console to grab her up in a big hug. “I love you too, girl.”

Tiffany’s aw-shucks look does nothing to disguise the happiness in her eyes. “You’ve got me, babe, and I’ve got you. I know you’d do the same for me. Though I’d appreciate it if you didn’t threaten Daddy when I finally get in his pants, ’kay?”

Ugh. All lovey-dovey friendship thoughts vaporize into thin air.

“You are not getting in my dad’s pants, and eww. Just no.”

My face is so screwed up in disgust that I’m probably going to need a wrinkle-reducer mask tonight, but Tiffany just smiles like she knows something I don’t know.

Shit. “You haven’t, right? Wait . . . I don’t want to know.” I shake my head to stop the images from forming. I do not want to see that in any way, shape, form, or fashion. There’s not enough eye bleach to make it go away if it materializes. “Yes, I do. Tell me the truth, bitch.”

“No, I haven’t been in Daddy’s pants.”

I let free a relieved sigh.

“Yet.”

Damn it.

“But speaking of Daddy, what’s his take on the whole Colton sitch? Did he go all growly possessive? ‘No daughter of mine . . .’ Or was he all disappointed dad? ‘Baby, you can’t . . .’ ” She goes in and out of mimicking my dad’s voice.

“He’s furious, of course. He told me Colton was using me to get at him . . . as if that’s some great newsflash I was unaware of.” I roll my eyes, knowing Dad still sees me as his little girl sometimes. “I told him that it would all be fine, for him to work and me to work, and if we all do our best, the best proposal will win.”

Tiffany thinks on that silently for a moment. “That’s true. Or at least it would be if it were just work, but there’s more going on and you know it.”

“I know that.” I point at myself and then her. “And you know that, but my dad doesn’t need to know that. I’ve never told him about my sex life before, so why should this be any different?”

Tiffany points at me sharply, our fingers crossing in between us like a sword fight of fingers. “A-ha, so you admit that Colton is your sex life? Gotcha!”

I laugh. “I said we didn’t have sex. I didn’t say we didn’t do other things, otherwise how would I know that he doesn’t say ‘I’m arriving’ when he comes?”

And at that stupid joke again, we both crack up.

“Let’s get to the mall, girl. We have so much to do and so much to talk about still. Sorry, not sorry, Macy’s.”

Tiffany pulls a piece of pink paper out of her purse. “I made a list of everything I need to replace the stuff Ace destroyed, plus I need a dress for the company dinner.”

“The company dinner. Oh, God, that’s this weekend!” I slap my hand over my mouth, glad that Cammie is responsive enough to hold steady with one hand.