Chas, 9:45 a.m.

She knew she could call a car before even thinking about checking her text messages, but she was just too tempted to address the double digits on the little red dot.

So, of course, she tapped it.

Messages from Rosemary were at the top of the list.

You look like you’re having fun. Just be warned, Gavin is not like us. You know that, right? He’s like Ash.

And then, two minutes later: You are expected at the house in the Garden District in the morning, so please check in. And be careful.

And then again: Seriously tho, I just heard you were hell-bent on losing your virginity tonight. Jeebus. OK, but do you have BC? Condom?

OK, girl, do what you want, but just remember, watch out for those claws.

I am not your mama, but do you know what you’re doing? Not because he might hurt you, but you might, I don’t know, eat him alive.

OK, I don’t mean eat him alive in that sense. I mean, literally take a bite out of him. You’re still young and wild and you don’t know how to control it when you get emotional. Just because tonight’s not a new moon doesn’t mean the panther won’t come out. Like when you’re drunk and horny, your mom and dad told you about that, right?

Actually, they had not. And it was no surprise to Chas that her parents had not schooled her on this little detail about her sexuality. Purity Ball dads were not that forthcoming about empowering their daughters, shapeshifters or non-shapeshifters.

She read on. More texts from Rosemary. Give it up, girl. Sheesh.

You do know that cats are unpredictable. Until you learn how to control it you probably shouldn’t be doing it at all with a person who doesn’t know what he’s getting into.

OK, listen. I feel responsible. Mama told me to watch out for you and I should have had you back at the mansion in lock-down about two hours ago. Please text me asap.

Finally. Rosemary sure had gotten uptight in this bridezilla phase of hers. She typed back and sent:

I’m OK. Trying to find a ride back to the mansion.

And then, she took a deep breath and tapped on the name G.

If she thought Rosemary was long-winded, she had nothing on this guy.

She read them all in order after she’d made her way over to a bench along Freret, a park bench for which she was exceedingly grateful. Her feet were finally starting to hurt. She had to scroll up quite a ways to get to his first message.

If she wasn’t already falling for the guy, she was falling flat on her face with her heart outside her body with his very first text to her.

Hey, this is Gavin. Friend of Ash. I heard you were a bridesmaid. I think you’re cute. I got your number from…well I’m not gonna throw any of your friends under the bus. And then a wink emoji.

About five minutes later, the second text.

Hey, I saw you dancing on the table. Do you need a ride home?

Sweet.

I sent you that drink, which maybe I should not have done. I’m the big dummy in the corner with the long brown hair and the beard, but I’m way less scary than I look.

Chas smiled dumbly at her phone and scrolled down. She was vaguely aware of dancing at Bobby’s last night and having drinks. So many drinks. Too many. God, she smelled coffee and beignets coming from somewhere.

Press on, girl.

The next one was interesting. It had been sent two hours after the first one. All it said was:

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You have no idea. You’re perfect. If I’m not there when you wake up, I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry. I wanted to wake you with breakfast in bed. Just know that. I had to leave. I feel like a jerk, but trust me when I say it’s better that I left. You’ll understand later. I know my place is a hovel compared to what you might be used to, but please, whatever you do, don’t leave.

Why had she left? Hadn’t she known as soon as she’d woken up that she should stay and wait for him? Should she go back now?

Then the next one, which was a couple of hours later, shortly after she’d woken up:

Hey, it’s me. I feel like a jackass. I’m not totally sure what happened, but I need to see you so we can sort this out. Please stay wherever you are. Are you at my place? Let me know.

Note to self: always have a charger with you, at all times, when you are out raising hell with your cousins in New Orleans.

She looked up and stretched her neck from side to side, which was stiff from staring at her phone. It was then that she saw the loud, black, classic GTO that she was pretty sure belonged to Rosemary’s fiancé.

Holy shit!

She forgot about her aching feet and her exhausted body and pounding head. She tossed her ridiculous heels to the curb and sprinted after the car, calling Ash’s name.

It was no use. He didn’t see her and didn’t hear her. But people on the street were definitely seeing and hearing, and staring at her like she was some kind of a freak making a scene. Which, technically, she was.

She calmed herself down enough to attempt to call for a car to get her somewhere. Anywhere. As her hand moved over the screen, another text message from Gavin popped up. Reading it, she knew from his words he was the one she wanted. Not just for another night. But for life.

And then, just as hunger, thirst and her pounding headache were about to conspire to buckle her knees right there on the sidewalk, she heard a set of tires screech, followed by a familiar female voice.

“Chas! Oh my god, what are the chances! where have you been!”

It was her cousin, the soon-to-be-bride, Rosemary.