Smokey Falls is a sleepy little place with an old-fashioned downtown, and I notice the bakery, gift shop, salon, and general store as I drive by. Juliet lives outside of town, and I welcome the cooler temperature as I drive down a dirt road shaded by a canopy of tree branches. I pull up to a log cabin–style home and stare in fascination as my three pregnant friends get up from their chairs on the front porch to greet me. They're all in stretch shorts and loose tank tops, which I'm sure are very comfortable in this heat but do nothing to make them look attractive. In fact, they all look huge, but then I remember that werewolf pregnancies only last a little over two months, so it makes sense. Even so, it's strange to see them like this considering that in school we'd all spend hours getting ready to go out. My stilettos sink in the dirt as I pick my way over to them.

"Look at you guys! Please tell me it's not something in the water."

Jayden tugs me into a tight embrace. "My god, it's so good to see you, Chelsea."

When I pull back, I notice tears in her eyes. "Hey. What's wrong?"

She shakes her head and blinks. "Hormones. I'm really happy to see you."

"We've missed you," says Alisha as she hugs me, too.

Juliet gives me the once-over. "You look a little worse for wear. How was your drive?"

I scowl, thinking I could say the same about her, but I let it go and ask, "Did you know the car rental place won't send roadside service to Smokey Falls?"

"Yeah," Juliet lets out a sigh. "We're not on the best terms with the Lincolnville pack. What happened?"

"I had a flat tire."

Jayden puts her hand on my arm. "You should have called! We've got a pack full of firemen. One of them would have been out in a flash to change it for you."

I wave my hand at her. "I didn't need to. Some guy— “ I pause as I replay Quinten in just his jeans, working on my car. The song he was singing comes back to me. Stroking my heart with her smile, loving me softly.

"Chelsea?" Alisha asks, dragging me from my memories. "Some guy?"

I shake my head. "Some guy helped me out."

"You need something to drink," says Jayden. She grabs my hand and tugs me along. "Come inside out of the heat, and let's get you something. You're probably dehydrated."

"Juliet and I will get your bags," says Alisha.

I let Jayden lead me to the kitchen, and ice cubes rattle in a glass as she presses it against the fridge dispenser. "Lemonade or iced tea?" she asks.

"Water, please." I pat my stomach. "I don't have a license to eat the way you do."

"Oh, stop," says Jayden. "You worry too much about your weight, Chels. You look awfully thin."

It's true that I've lost weight since I moved to California. When you're surrounded by stick-thin women, it's easy to feel as if you need to. My stomach growls, and I place a hand on it as I say, "I've been so busy I forget to eat."

"Well, we'll fatten you up again in no time. It's one thing to have a werewolf metabolism, but now that we're all eating for our babies, too, food is a big deal."

I chuckle before I take a swig of the water and savor the coolness in my throat as it goes down. I turn to Alisha and Juliet as they enter the kitchen. "Thanks for bringing my stuff in." I think about how my dress is sticking to me and the fact that I've been sweating for hours. "Do you all mind if I go freshen up?"

Juliet gives me a kind smile. "Honey, go take a shower. We're just glad to have you here and that you're safe. We can wait to catch up."

I give her a grateful smile in return. "Thanks."

When I get upstairs, I step into the comfortable space of the guest room. The walls are natural wood varnished to a high sheen, and they match the wood floors. I walk over to the small bench, where my two suitcases have been set, and I open one up to find my cosmetics.

I glance up and notice the forest view out my window. The green trees are a strong contrast to the concrete buildings I see from my apartment in California. I walk over to take a moment to appreciate the scenery, and it hits me how much I miss seeing nature. It's not that California doesn't have beauty. But I don't make enough money to be in a place that lets me see it. Not yet, anyway.

I reluctantly turn away and reach behind my head to start unzipping my dress. After I crane my other arm up to finish the process, I pull my soiled dress over my head and assess the damage. I notice the sweat stains laced with deodorant on the armpits and the unknown grease spot on the back, and I determine I won't be trusting a local dry cleaner for this. This dress cost me a lot of money, and I'll be making sure I take it to my trusted cleaners, where they know how to deal with the most difficult of stains.

I groan when I recall how I must have looked to Quinten. I was a hot mess, but he didn't seem to care.

Water rushes out of the shower when I flip it on, and I step into the cool stream. As I soap up my skin, I flash to the way Quinten made my knees weak when he removed his helmet and shook out his hair as if he was in a commercial. Or like a scene in my show. I chuckle at myself, because I think my attraction to him might be amped up by my overactive imagination. It's great for my job, but reality isn't quite so dramatic.

As sweat and grime rinse off my body, I put what happened with Quinten in its place: the box of fantasies I pull out to entertain myself but can stick on a shelf when I'm done.

After my shower, I tug back my damp hair into a sleek ponytail since I didn't want to take the time to wash, dry, and style it, and I get dressed. I'm applying makeup when my phone rings. It's the sound of a fire alarm, which I've assigned to my boss Rita. She's the mastermind behind Zip Code Star, and I don't even get to say hello before she launches into conversation.

"Chelsea," she says in her deep, raspy voice. "Fab new idea." She pauses, and I picture her taking a drag of her cigarette before she says, "Star in the making. Lydia needs a hot new love interest. A young gun so we can work the cougar thing. Our older women viewers will love it. I want a complete unknown."

I'm sure this call isn't an update and that she has some task for me, but I need to respond without assumptions. "Sounds interesting. Have you put casting on it yet?"

"No." She lets out a noise of disgust. "No, I don't want what they've got. We need to discover him."

"Discover him?" My chest tightens, because I think I know what she's about to ask me.

She lets out a sigh as if I'm trying her patience. "Find him, Chelsea. Find me the next Adam Levine."

This is the point where I should remind her I've been in California for less than a year. That the only contacts I have are through her and with people who would do anything she asks, but not me. Or maybe that I'm aware she's handing me the impossible job because I'm the newest writer on the team and the most expendable, making it easy to fire me when I can't deliver. But nobody tells Rita anything. I have two choices: do as she asked and somehow make things happen or lose my job.

My stomach burns, and I say the only thing I can say. "I'm on it, Rita. You can count on me."

"I knew I could, doll. Ciao."

After she hangs up, I stare at the phone as I try to fathom how I'm going to perform my latest miracle for Rita. I pick up my lipstick and lean in close to the mirror as I apply it and wonder how it is my vacation has barely started and I'm already back to jumping through hoops for my boss. I step back and take in my appearance. I'm wearing a sun dress in a fabric that is travel friendly and a pair of wedge sandals, which I brought in awareness that my usual stilettos aren't very good in a cabin setting.

I'm glad I packed plenty of business attire too. Rita says one should always be prepared and remember that appearances matter. Nobody working for her is allowed to even wear sweats to the grocery store, and I swear she has spies who check. It's a good thing I listen, because my summer vacation just became a work trip too. Ideas are already swirling in my head about how I'm going to discover the next rock star, and I should start on finding him, but I deserve one night off. I can wait to dig into the project tomorrow. Especially because it won't leave me time to entertain silly fantasies of a summer fling with Quinten.