That shit no longer flew, even if my friend was buried alive and I was a key player in her rescue and the next day my apartment had exploded. Drinks needed to be served. I got that. And it had to be said, these excuses, although honest, were frequent. So I also got that would be a little alarming for any employer.

So now I had a lot to do, including serious shopping, which would have been made easier by the gift cards at my pad that were probably melted. My insurance would undoubtedly not cover everything, and my income had been significantly reduced. Fortnum’s sold a shitload of coffee and the tip jar was never light. Then again, the tips at Brother’s were a whole lot better, so that was going to be a hit.

I also had a decision to make because I’d known for some time a career as a bartender/barista was not for me.

Now I had an excuse to make things official.

But, although licensing was voluntary for investigators in Colorado, to be taken seriously and charge that way, I needed a license. And this might be a problem. I no doubt had the hours of investigation logged to get it. I just did not have those hours in any official capacity. Lee, Hank, Eddie or my dad would have to vouch for me, and the prospect of that happening was not rosy.

I also now had a boyfriend, and always had a family who would not take kindly to this career shift. And by “not take kindly” I meant their reactions would be volatile.

But it was what I wanted to do, and not on a whim. I’d been doing it for a long time, and loving it, and now I had the opportunity and the time to go for it.

I just had to manage the reactions of those around me.

On that thought, I activated my phone, checked the time then scanned the area.

Still no Indy.

Fuck.

It wasn’t like we didn’t disagree or even fight.

But this kind of silent anger was not her thing and it unnerved me.

I was about to hit buttons to call her again when my phone rang with the display saying, “Zano Calling.”

I took the call and put my phone to my ear. “Hey.”

“Hey, baby. She show?”

My insides warmed. He was checking in because he was concerned for me.

Totally sweet.

“Not yet,” I replied.

“She will.”

Totally supportive, which was also sweet.

On this thought, I saw her blue Beetle drive by, Indy’s redhead at the wheel.

I let out a breath and said, “She just drove by.”

“Good,” he murmured.

“It’ll take half an hour for her to find a parking spot, which is plenty of time for me to get her a coffee,” I told him as I left my table and headed inside. “So I’m on that.”

“It’s gonna be okay, Ally.”

Jeez. This together together shit with Ren was so easy.

And awesome.

“Thanks, babe,” I whispered.

“See you tonight.”

“Later, Zano.”

“Later, honey.”

We disconnected, and by the time I came out with the coffees and resumed my seat, Indy had found a parking spot and was walking up to my table.

She made it to me and stopped.

I looked up at her through my kickass, gold-framed, orange-lensed Ray Bans that had been payment on a “job” and also had luckily been in my purse when my belongings exploded. She looked down at me through her righteous, huge, black-framed, black-lensed Hollywood Starlet shades.

I opened my mouth to speak but she got there before me.

“Tex knows we’re here, he’s gonna go ballistic.”

This was a promising opening.

“This is clandestine because we need privacy, and that’s because I need to know I’m cool with you before I take on the Rock Chicks,” I explained.

She said nothing and didn’t move.

This was not promising.

I slid her cup toward her. “I bought you a skinny vanilla latte.”

Her shades dipped to the cup then came back to me. Other than that, she said nothing and didn’t move.

This was definitely not promising. India Nightingale was Queen Coffee. I didn’t think I’d ever seen her turn down a cup. Definitely not a vanilla latte. In fact, during road trips, I made sure we had a bottle of tequila for when we reached our destination. Indy made sure we had travel mugs filled with java.

I closed my eyes.

Then I opened them and stated, “That night Ren fought with Luke, in an effort to calm him down, I suggested we go for drinks. He took me up on that offer. We went to Brother’s but when we got there, it wasn’t about Ren and Luke and Ava. It was about Ren and me. And it was good. So good, he took me to his house. That was better. Way better. Out of our stratosphere better.”

Indy remained silent, another bad sign. She got me. I was talking about sex. And the Rock Chicks existed on a conversational diet heavy on sex talk, Hot Bunch bitching and skincare tips.

Time to pull out the big guns.

“I fell in love with him, chickie,” I whispered and watched her lips part.

There it was, thank God. I was getting in there.

So I kept at it.

“In one night, I fell in love.”

She bit her lip.

Yes. Getting in there.

“I woke up in his arms in his bed and I was happy. Totally happy, babe. So happy I was lying there smiling. And he curled me closer, shoved his face in my hair and said Ava’s name.”

That did it.

Her body jolted before she yanked out a chair, sat her ass in it and leaned toward me, exclaiming on a horrified hiss, “Oh my God! Seriously?”

I nodded. “Seriously.”

“Holy crap,” she breathed.

“It killed,” I admitted.

“It would,” she agreed.

“Ren was asleep when he did it,” I explained. “I snuck out. He got pissed that I did, came over that night and that didn’t go very well. I didn’t share why I left so he didn’t know until yesterday why I established stringent f**k buddy boundaries. Boundaries, I’ll add, that he didn’t really adhere to and, looking back, I didn’t either. Since he was asleep, he didn’t know he did it and was pretty upset when I threw it in his face. He explained, we worked it out. I love him, he loves me and it’s all good.”

Something moved over her face that I could read even behind her shades.

Surprise.

And warmth.

“You love him?” she asked quietly and I felt my lips tip up.

“Yeah,” I answered just as quietly.

Her head tipped to the side. “He loves you?”

I nodded and full-on smiled. “Oh yeah.”

No surprise that time. Just warmth.