“Grandpa’s going to love that cashmere scarf. But don’t cave and give it to him before your anniversary like you did last year,” Jessie scolded her grandmother. She pulled into her grandparents’ driveway, put her car in park, and hustled out of the vehicle to assist the tiny woman. The lovely shade of pink that bloomed on Tillie Jacobs’ cheeks took a good decade off her seventy-nine years.

“Walt can beguile all he likes. But this year, I am not giving in,” Tillie promised.

Jessie nodded, noticing her grandfather step out the front door to collect his bride, a slight breeze catching a shock of his white hair to make it stand on end. He’d been watching and waiting for Tillie every day for the last fifty-eight years. Theirs was a real life love story—the for richer, for poorer, through sickness and health kind.

Not the fairy tale sort like last night with demigod Nate.

Yeah, don’t go there right now. “Good. Be strong for five more days, Gramma. If you get weak and feel like spilling the beans early, give me a call. I’m good at interventions. Deal?”

Tillie tucked the package under her arm and tilted her cheek for Walt’s kiss when he reached her side. “It’s a deal. Though, you may regret your offer. I have a feeling this rascal is going pester me relentlessly.”

Tillie’s smile coaxed a wink from Walt before he turned to Jessie. “You girls have a good time?”

His expression was far more serious than his voice suggested. “She was fine,” Jessie whispered, closing her eyes when his arms came around her. He smelled like Old Spice, love, and happy times. All her best memories included these two.

“It was wonderful, Walt. I’ve missed shopping.” Tillie yawned and leaned into her husband. Jessie’s gaze met her grandfather’s worried one over her grandmother’s head. Just two months ago, Tillie’s doctor had advised that they start looking for nursing homes because of her failing health. Walt was devastated at the thought of living apart from her. Jessie worried they’d both go downhill if they were separated, so she was determined to find a way to keep them together. The few available options were just so damn expensive. She swallowed a lump in her throat and pasted on a smile. “I’ll take you anytime you wanna go, Gramma.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. You’re always so good to me.”

“Good to us.” Walt angled his body to shield Tillie from the wind.

“If I can give you half the love you guys have showered on me since…” Mom tried to throw me in a dumpster in her cocaine-induced rage over having a biracial child…

“Jessie.” Her grandfather’s voice held a warning, but no matter how much they wanted her to forget, some things were impossible to un-remember.

Or forgive. Even if her mother had eventually died sober—and more tolerant of the black half of Jessie’s genetics—a few years ago.

She rubbed her grandmother’s frail arm. “Go on inside now. Some tea and a nap would be a good follow up to our shopping trip, don’t you think?”

“Yes, that sounds nice, if a little patronizing, dear.”

Jessie kissed her cheek. “The tough love’s gotta come from somewhere since your groom does nothing but spoil you.”

Walt’s laughter followed her as she made her way back to the car. Though the wind continued to fuss, her grandfather’s voice carried strongly. “You’ll understand when someone becomes the very beat of your heart.”

“Don’t ever settle, Jessica!” Tillie added, looking pale.

“I’ll get right on that, guys. I’ll invite you to the wedding if I find any extra Disney princes in my part of town!”

“Jessica.”

“Just kidding!” Kinda. Nate could definitely inspire a new Disney prince. Well, the x-rated sort anyway. Jessie raised her hand in a vague wave. “Enjoy your siesta. I’ll call you later!” When she got in the car, she still had half an hour before her work meeting at TERRA, the new name for the nightclub that Uncle Mason had built from the ground up. But since it would be her first meeting with the club’s new owner—the man who practically stole her uncle’s life’s work right out from under him—she might as well get there early. Good impressions and all that. Besides, she didn’t want to give people cause to believe she was responsible when the cops started investigating.

Because she was determined to find out why the new owner had wanted the club so bad. And how he’d manipulated Mason into selling it for pennies on the dollar. Her uncle wasn’t shrewd, compelling, or smooth—qualities you associate with nightclub owners. Yeah, he had demons of his own, but he’d been a constant presence in her life, always there to dry her tears when her mom was a post-party wreck.

And of course, he’d been the one to stop Aurora Blaze from throwing six-year-old Jessie into a garbage dumpster.

Now, it was Jessie’s turn to help him.

Maintaining her job at the club would give her an insider’s look at their nerve center so she could somehow make this right for her uncle, hopefully without making it into a big news event. That would be too hard on Gramma and Grandpa after the media circus her mother had put them through.

Jessie yawned at the next stoplight. She really shouldn’t be tired. Last night she’d had the most restful, dreamless sleep in months.

And the best orgasm of her life.

How humiliating that she’d fallen asleep afterwards. Especially when Nate had been so sweet about the whole thing. He could have woken her, but instead he’d tucked her under the covers and locked the door on his way out. She still didn’t understand how he’d managed that with the deadbolt on the inside, but whatever, it was a princess moment, and really, how many of those did a girl get in a year?

At twenty-six, Jessie was only a few years older than most second-year law students, but she felt a major disconnect with females her age. Probably had to do with having a gorgeous and talented actress as a mother. A mother who’d floated in and out of rehab for almost two decades before dying tragically in a car crash at the height of her revived career.

Yeah, that.

And feeling responsible for her grandparents’ welfare. That kind of stuff trumped which club you were going to hit up on Friday night and what nail polish color was in vogue. Jessie looked at her hands with their unadorned fingernails, trying not to care.

Maybe she felt older than her peers because as a bartender for the last four years she’d witnessed how alcohol was the grand equalizer. Pretty, perky blondes from the right side of the tracks puked just as unglamorously as the down-on-their-luck meth heads who were usually the victims of their own search for meaning, self-medicating their underlying fears, anxiety, pain…

Life could be so unfair, and people could be so stupid. So cruel to one another.

But every once in a while, life handed you a rainbow.

Jessie shook off her morose thoughts as she smiled, thinking of Nate again. Perhaps he liked her for more than her rack. He’d certainly seemed upset when she’d been self conscious, asking who’d made her feel ashamed. Like she’d ever tell him about the last guy she’d been with who’d poked at her belly and mimicked the Pillsbury Dough Boy giggle. She’d sent that guy packing so fast he was still zipping his pants out the door and down the hall.

Nate was different. He seemed to understand and appreciate women in many respects. He actually had something going on between his ears. He’d even asked about her bucket list as he’d whipped up the quiche. The guy was either the whole enchilada, or a serious player.

Why didn’t she think to ask him his last name?

She’d ask the next time she saw him. Hopefully soon. For now, she needed to concentrate on meeting her new boss. She pulled into TERRA’s parking lot and took a deep breath. According to Uncle Mason, TERRA was owned by a member of Unholy Inc. What kind of business name was that? The owners were probably sharks. Well, she’d have to learn to eat sharks for breakfast if she wanted to be a success in the courtroom, right?

JBlaze, her bartending alter ego, sure as hell knew how it was done.

Jessie stepped out of her car and shut the door. Her mixologist persona might not appeal to everyone, but she couldn’t leave it behind, because JBlaze was a safe place to channel all her fear and insecurities. The face she put on to placate a let’s-pretend-we-have-it-all-together society because no matter how much the tabloids had speculated on it, she’d never measure up—in looks, style, or charisma—to her famous mother. JBlaze was her show, her wall, a protective force that had swooped to her rescue when the paparazzi had poured in, cameras flashing, zooming in on her grief—and painfully guilty relief—when word of her mother’s death hit the news wires.

More people should have a JBlaze of their own. Way cheaper than shrinks.

And of course, JBlaze was who drew clientele at the club.

Management had told her that’s why the new owner had kept her when he’d fired so many others who’d worked for her uncle. Why he’d kept her on, even though she was Mason’s niece.

One thing was for certain. They’d be watching her.

Wouldn’t it be something if the reason the new owner kept her was the very thing that took him down?

A small smile tipped her lips until, halfway across the parking lot, she looked up at TERRA and faltered.

Nate stared down at her from a second story window.

From the boss’s office.