She still had that smug look on her face before he led her to the passenger side door of his dad’s classic Corvette and helped her inside.

I’d been near tears and ready to give up my hopes and dreams about all things Rhett Hennessy at the thought of them together in some hotel room, when the long skirt of her pink princess dress had touched the exhaust pipe running under the door. It melted instantly, ruining her perfect look and causing a bloodcurdling scream to echo through the neighborhood.

Now, I hadn’t been rejoicing at any girl’s dream prom getting ruined, but from the way she’d lit into Rhett in front of his entire family, and the way he’d looked skyward as if searching for patience and had accidentally met my gaze through the panes of my bedroom window . . . I knew that he wasn’t going to be scoring any runs that night, and I’d felt marginally better.

Then I’d let myself daydream about what it would be like for Rhett to show up and take me to my senior prom.

Spoiler alert—he hadn’t.

I’d gone with Donny Jenkins, who’d tried to shove his hand up my dress as I walked out to his car. I had to tell him my brother was the top shooter from his academy class and would happily put holes in him if he tried it again. Donny had left me in the parking lot, and I’d had to get a ride home with all the girls who’d gone stag. I’d never heard from him again.

Maybe I should have said something similar to Carlos . . .

To this day, I wondered if Donny had crapped his pants as he’d run to his mom’s Suburban and torn out of the parking lot. I’d never thought about him since.

Ah . . . trips down memory lane. So not useful.

I stood up, stretched my arms behind my back, and shook out my wrists to prevent carpal tunnel. Then I walked into the kitchen to dig up some food before I got back to work.

Waiting on Rhett Hennessy was like hoping your hair wouldn’t frizz up in the Louisiana humidity—pointless and frustrating.

With a bowl of stir fry in front of me, I went back to work, determined to knock out everything on my to-do list before I let my mind wander in the direction of Rhett Hennessy again. Since my track record of being able to stop thinking about him was so great.

Resolute, I shoved in my earbuds and crunched into a piece of broccoli as I opened the document I needed to review to decide whether to invest in a new start-up. They had an app that they claimed would become as addictive as Facebook and Instagram.

I’ve got an empire to build. Watch out, world.

* * *

I’d lost track of time while being wildly productive, electing to invest a couple hundred thousand dollars in the first start-up and another half million in another company. Reviewing other people’s business plans and proposals always made me proud of what I’d accomplished. Had I taken a different path, I would have been applying to people for angel financing, giving up over half of my equity stake just for a shot at making it.

Instead, I’d taken a big risk that could have blown up in my face. I cashed out my college tuition account and used that instead of fake money during the day-trading portion of my finance class. I was either going to be a dropout or a success, and luckily, I’d learned I had a solid gut instinct and could recognize patterns. I’d tripled my money, paid my next semester’s tuition, and used the profit to hire a couple of friends to help develop my first successful apps.

My phone lit up, its vibrations carrying through the table to get my attention.

* * *

Unknown Number: Your plane ticket home is in your email. We’ll be discussing the situation you raised last night in person.

* * *

I’d blocked Carlos’s number on my phone, so while it didn’t surprise me he was texting me from another number, it pissed me off.

Oh. Hell. No.

As I picked up my phone to reply something along the lines of No way in hell am I coming home and We have nothing to discuss because there is no us, Carver came into the room.

“Ms. Sampson? You have a visitor at the gate. Shall I let Mr. Hennessy in?”

I sat my phone on the table and stood. “Rhett Hennessy?” Yeah, as if some other Hennessy was going to show up at my door.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Mentally, I tugged up my big-girl thong and straightened my shoulders. “Sure. Let him in. Feel free to give us some privacy, Carver.” My gaze landed on him long enough to ensure he got the message loud and clear. “When Mr. Hennessy is around, I’m not under any security threat, so consider yourself off duty.”

No matter what else ever happened with Rhett, I knew those words were unfailingly true. He would protect me with his life.

“Understood, ma’am. I’ll let him in, and will be in my apartment if you need anything at all.”

“Thank you, Carver.”

“Of course, Ms. Sampson.”

He strode away, and I looked down at what I was wearing. A Namaste in Bed T-shirt that had caught a splash of soy sauce during lunch, and sweats I’d turned into cutoffs with a dull pair of scissors.

Looking hot, Ari.

But I’d been working all day, and part of being the boss meant I got to wear whatever I wanted when I was in beast mode. Which was all the time. I might be a geek, but I’m always a beast-geek.

Rhett was going to get the real me. No makeup, my hair a little wild from putting it up and taking it down as I mulled over decisions, and a hot mess of an outfit. I was too old and too awesome to worry about being someone else.

With that positive thought firmly fixed in my mind, I tried to calm down the flock of seagulls that took up residence in my belly as the doorbell rang. Rhett Hennessy was on my doorstep.

Be cool, Ari. Be cool.

Okay, scratch that.

Pretend.

19

Rhett

After we left breakfast, Heath shot me a text saying the cops were getting ready to release the crime scene that was my parents’ house, so I’d hauled ass over there to start my own investigation before it was corrupted. I put in a call to an old friend who owned a barricade company, and he agreed to bring over enough metal construction fencing to surround the entire property and lock it up. Any assholes who thought they’d go searching for scrap metal or anything else of value would be blocked.

That began my day of digging through rubble and looking for evidence that the crime scene unit might have missed. I couldn’t decide if it was working in my favor that they’d missed a few pieces of the wiring and device, or whether they were screwing my family by not being better at their jobs. When it came down to it, I didn’t trust anyone to solve this case except for me, so I was going to take it as a positive.