I’m not a psychologist, but I’m more than acutely aware of the fact there are different levels of crazy. You have happy insane, the relatively harmless people who like to skydive wearing nothing but a giant grin. I’d like to think I fall into that magical category, although I prefer to do all of my naked diving in the bedroom, but I digress. Then you have insane like my sister Aubree who saw nothing wrong with killing one girl and attempting to kill another in order to make her way into Bryson Edwards’ bed. I agree with the fact she needs many, many years of psychiatric rehabilitation, and even at that she needs to pay for her heartbreaking and heinous crimes. Then you have the gray middle.

I squint hard in the direction of Founder’s Square, trying to make out the bizarre scenario playing out in front of me.

“Fuck,” I mutter, trying to keep pace with a girl whose face looks suspiciously like gorgeous Piper James with the exception she’s planted a clown wig on top of her head.

People crane their necks and point as she walks toward Union Hall with her backpack secured over both shoulders, her clothes very unassuming as if this were simply any other nutty day. She ducks into Carlson Lecture Hall, and I casually pass the door before peering back to see if it is indeed Piper.

“Shit,” I whisper at first glance.

There she is, pulling out her books, adjusting her laptop in front of her as if this was any ordinary multi-colored hair day.

Rex comes stalking down the corridor as if he’s about to tackle me to the ground. “What’s up?”

I take a step back out of view. “Are you in this class?”

“Yup. Do you need something? You want to sit in?”

“No—no. Piper’s in there. She’s got a fucking clown wig on.”

He peers in and backs up with a look that says it all.

“Is she rushing?”

“She must be.” A flood of relief takes over. I hadn’t even considered that. Of course, she’s rushing. She’s rushing for that same batshit sorority that Aubree used to run with an iron fist. It makes perfect sense. “I bet we’ll see hundreds of those polyester snow cones all day long. Looking forward to it, man. It’s going to be a riot.”

Rex shakes his head. “They’re going to take heat for that. That falls under humiliation, and that, my friend, falls under hazing.” He shoots at me with his finger before hustling inside.

I take another quick look at poor Piper who has everyone seated behind her giggling in secrecy, and everyone seated in front of her twisting to get a better look.

Why would she ever agree to that?

All the livelong day, I spot her around campus bopping from one class to the other, in line at Hallowed Grounds looking like a rainbow took a crap on her head. Piper is happily out and about with her new look, and I don’t spot another single soul with that ridiculous wig on.

I watch as her multi-colored self ducks into the library, and I follow her inside.

“Hey.” I drop my backpack to the floor and take a seat in front of her.

Piper looks up. A dull smile comes and goes. She looks tired, downright exhausted, and dare I say, more than a touch humiliated. My stomach wrenches for her. I wish she didn’t feel the need to humiliate herself for the sake of getting ahead in that fucked-up organization. It’s like the mob, only with lipstick instead of guns.

“Go ahead.” She cracks a book and glances down. “Take your best shot.” Her voice wavers like she’s about to cry, and I can’t say I blame her.

A lone strand of glossy black hair peeks through, and I lean over and give it a quick tug.

“What’s this about? You have beautiful hair. No need to hide it from the world. Your new hair sucks.”

She grunts. That hurt look she was wearing a second ago morphs into disgust. “Have you considered a career in the greeting card industry?” She pretends to gag. “You don’t have to be nice. Give it another go.” She slinks down in her seat and pulls the book to her nose.

“Okay.” I pluck the book from her hands and close it. “You look ridiculous. I don’t need a road map to tell me who talked you into this. But you know what I can’t figure out?” I wince, trying to read her face, but she’s not giving away any of her secrets. “Why just you? Are they doling out the humiliation incrementally this year?”

Piper shudders as she stretches out in her seat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A group of girls walks by giggling shamelessly.

“Deny it all you want.” My body shifts toward hers. “I refuse to believe you’re a sandwich short of a picnic.”

A laugh bubbles from her, first genuine one since we’ve met.

Piper is softening, lowering her defenses, and I want that for her. Not for the stupid bet, but for her wellbeing in general. She’s so pent up, so stuck on angry all the time, it’s painful to watch.

An idea comes to me. “You want to blow off this place? We can grab a bite and work on trying to pin down a few corporations to contact. We can start a master list of potential hits. Ryder gave us a few leads.” I can really use a grand right about now. Last night wasn’t my best, and ninety percent of my income is based on tips. I couldn’t help the lousy performance, though. I kept thinking of Piper. I didn’t want anyone else touching me. For some sadistic reason, I just want her. That dull ache in my belly was hungry for her. It took me down a notch, and I hate to admit it.

“I am starved.” She gives a nervous glance around. “But I’m sort of committed.” She touches her kinky manufactured curls and makes a face. “Hey, I know! We can go to your place. Do you live far?”

An unexpected jolt blasts through me. As much as she stunned me with that slap the other night, she’s managed to do it again with her eagerness to land so close to my bed.

“Yes—no. I mean, yes, we can go to my place. No, I don’t live far. I’m across the street at the Briggs Apartments.”

She blinks with relief. “Nice.” She scoops up her things like the building were on fire and heads for the door.

Piper and I walk across the street amid the sneers and jeers of the population at large.

We head into the cool building and step into the elevator, just the two of us. I wait until the doors whoosh shut before I say anything.

“I can’t imagine what kind of a shit day you’ve had. Did your professors ask about this?”

Tears come to her eyes, turning them a watery shade of turquoise, and she’s quick to wipe them away. “Dr. Rosenthal asked if I was bipolar.”

“I bet you had a brilliant comeback.”

Her eyes widen as she looks right at me, serious as shit. “I lied and said yes.”

My heart breaks just hearing her say it.

The elevator yawns to life once again, and I lead her over to the door tucked in the corner. “This is my apartment. Try not to show fear, or it’ll bite.”

It’s true. The place is a wreck, with clothes dumped in piles, the living room strewn with a week’s worth of fast-food wrappers. I’m too damn tired after work to do anything about it, and I’m too busy studying when I get out of class to care.

“Nice.” Her voice cuts through with a sarcastic edge, and I’m glad about it. The last thing I want is for Piper to be upset. We head inside, and Piper is quick to shut and bolt the door.

I’m more than amused. “Am I going to want to escape after the things you do to me?” It was either that, or Expecting angry villagers? But I went with the innuendo. Always go with the innuendo, I tell my boys, and the condom business is brisk because of it.

“You wish.” She makes a face, pulling off her wig with one smooth motion, and her hair spills over her shoulders like black water. “Besides, I have it on good authority that you never initiate an escape once you have a female within a ten-foot radius of your bed.”

“Touché.”

Without thinking, my fingers glide over her back, riding her slick glossy hair like a wave. “You know there are less extreme ways to get guys not to hit on you.” I reach down and flick her wig. Piper is beautiful. It would shock me if every guy at Briggs weren’t into her.

“Yeah, well, it didn’t scare you off, so I’ll have to try harder next time.” She walks over to the sofa and kicks off her shoes before taking a seat. A tiny smile begs to break through, but I hold back. I’m digging the fact she’s not afraid to make herself comfortable. I shouldn’t be laughing, though. A girl like Piper is hardwired to take over. It’s in her blood. That’s how our parents managed to amass so much gan-green in the bank. They weren’t afraid to take charge. If Piper takes charge of my balls, I might be left begging for mercy.

I pull out a couple of sodas and bring a bag of chips to the party before plopping down next to her.

“So let’s do this.” I pluck out my laptop and start begging the search engine gods to give us corporate gold.

Piper leans over and closes my laptop. Her eyes meet with mine, large with a hint of fear in them. “How about we do something else?”

Crap. Am I going to score six grand tonight? Because as much as my dick is begging for just that outcome, there’s no way in hell I’m buying it. Not that I’d take the money. It’s tainted at this point. I wouldn’t reduce Piper to that.

“Like?” I lean back and extend my arms over the rim of the couch, wrapping an arm around her shoulders by proxy, ready and willing to call her bluff.

That dark demeanor returns in an instant. Piper has the ability to go from zero to pissed in less than three seconds. And I’m pretty damn proud to elicit that response in her.

“Like call an ambulance after I rip your balls off. Are you coming on to me?” She spits it out in a rage before her eyes round out as if she’s just had an epiphany. “Um, actually”—she scoots in close and pulls my arm off the sofa and onto her soft as silk hair—“maybe we should get to know each other. You know, the ins and outs of who we are. After all, we will be working together for quite some time.”

“You run hot and cold. That’s pretty much all I need to know.”

She twists into me, apparently affronted by the truth. “Wow, it’s a wonder you ever get laid. Are you always this rude to your guests, or is this something special just for me?”

Laid? I mouth the word. “Is that what this is about?” Hell, I’m starting to wonder if Jet paid her six grand just to fuck with my head.

“No.” Her eyes pinwheel for a second. “I just wanted to see if there was a beating heart in that tin chest of yours, and I guess there isn’t.” She yanks her wig off the coffee table and smashes it onto her head before spastically collecting her belongings.

“Whoa.” I cuff her by the wrists a moment before plucking off her wig and tossing it across the room right into the trashcan. “He shoots—he scores. And don’t tell me it doesn’t belong there.” I place her hands back onto her lap. “Okay, I’m in. Tell me something about you that I don’t know.”

Piper cuts me a mean look before conforming to the sofa once again. “Contrary to public opinion, I’m not certifiably insane.” Those ice blue eyes flash my way, and my dick ticks like a bomb. “Tell me something about you.” She scowls a moment as if whatever were about to spew from my lips was a bald-faced lie.

“Contrary to public opinion, I happen to have a beating heart in this tin chest of mine.” I pound my fist over my heart with a little too much vigor and nearly stop it in the process. “Are you always such a—”

“Bitch?” Her brows peak, amused.

“I was going to say princess.” Truth.

Her lips purse with disbelief. She gives me the side eye and looks cute as hell. Piper doesn’t need to try to get my attention. She simply has it.

“Are you always such a—”

“Dick?” There’s no need to propagate any other fantasy.

“I was going to say dick.” She laughs into the admission, and her hip lands next to mine in the process. “Sorry.” She bats that forest of lashes up at me, and my balls wonder why she hasn’t landed in my mattress by now. If Piper were any other girl, I’d swear on my life I could seal this deal in less than a half hour. But she’s not any other girl. She’s simply Piper. Not too sweet, not too spicy—just right. I give a hard blink at the idea of Piper being just right. Right for whom or what, I have no idea.

“No need to apologize, sweetheart.” I knock back half of my soda before returning the can to the floor. “It’s a wonder you’re still single. What happened to the last guy you dated? You reduce him to ashes after blowing him a kiss?”

“Very funny.” She pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around her legs. “There is no guy I dated.” Her cheeks burn bright, and as much as I don’t want to believe her, I can tell she’s telling the truth. “What about you?”

“Nope. No relationships. Don’t do them. Thought about them—decided they were pretty much a shitty idea.”

“People are full of shitty ideas,” she adds quickly as if we were ganging up on the world.

“And some of them are certifiably insane.” It comes out a little too serious without meaning to. “So, why no guys? You waiting for Mister Right?”

“Something like that. How about you? Oh, wait.” She rocks back and forth a second, and her tits ripple right up over the heavy V of her T-shirt. “You’re the love ’em and leave ’em type. Or am I being generous? It’s more fuck ’em and leave ’em, isn’t it?”

“So crude for such a proper young lady.” My lips twist, struggling to keep that dirty grin from breaking loose. “I don’t kiss and tell.” I cock my head to the side. “So, if you’re up for kissing, just know I’m not planning on telling.”

Her cheeks glow brighter than my taillights, and I can’t gauge whether or not it’s a good thing.

“I’m teasing.” I scoot back a few inches to put some distance between us. The last thing I want is Piper feeling like she’s about to get sexually accosted.

“No, it’s okay. I like kissing.” Her eyes stay fixed at the picture window in front of us. “Is that all guys ever thing about?” Piper rearranges herself until she’s sitting on her knees. “Don’t answer that. I know that’s all guys ever think about. I just wondered if they ever think about other things, too. You know, like having a relationship, falling for someone.”

“Not any guys that I know.” God’s honest truth right there. “But there are guys who trip and fall in love. They’re called married dudes. Bryson and Ryder are two of them. And isn’t Wyatt practically married to his girlfriend?”

She gives a reluctant nod. “I guess I see your point. The funny thing is that you framed it as tripping. Tripping is something you do accidentally—it’s a horrible state to be in. Girls actually want to fall in love. For some, it’s even a goal.” She averts her eyes.

“Is it your goal? I saw you with that guy the other night. The suit?” It’s hard not to laugh when I think about that asshole. “Who the hell wears a suit to a frat party?”

“I know, right?” She leans in and gives a quiet laugh.

“It’s nice like this,” I offer. “Especially since we’re both in agreement that the douche you were with the other night is more or less a laughing matter.”

“That douche is actually my boyfriend.” She wrinkles her nose. “I think?”

“You think?” My gut sinks at the prospect. “How can you not be sure? You waiting for his letterman jacket, sweetie?” I’m sick at the thought he might actually be sinking his meaty hooks into her.

“Not really. Jules and Lucille sort of implied it. They’re the captains at Alpha Chi. They thought we’d be a good fit, and they sort of made it a point to let me know they’re batting a thousand with their mad ‘matchmaking’ skills.” She says matchmaking with air quotes.

Crap. “That’s right. And you don’t want to burn any bridges by ruining their winning streak.”

“More or less.” Piper shrugs as that dark look shrouds her features again. “Anyway, I don’t want to talk about him.” Her eyes brighten as if someone just flipped a switch. “I want to talk about you. Take off your shirt. I want to see your tats.” She plunges forward and helps evict my T-shirt without giving me much of a say in the matter. Not that I’d protest. This is what I wanted. Isn’t it?

“God!” She marvels, raking her eyes up and down my body like it is a fine work of art. It is, but I like the admiration she’s pouring over me as that perky little mouth of hers rounds out into a perfect O. “I can’t believe you actually sat there while having all this done.” Her fingers touch down over my abs, and I flinch. “Sorry.” She retracts her hand like pulling it out of a fire.

“Don’t apologize.” I take her by the fingers and bring her right back to where she was on that bed of designs Jet layered over me. “The guy that worked on yours did all of these. He’s a true artist—as gifted as they come.”

Her fingers stiffen over me. “I have a broken heart that might contest that.”

“That’s because you didn’t let him finish.”

Her fingers ride up over my skin, cool and silky, enlivening my muscles as she bumps across me.

“And what in God’s name is this?” She giggles like a schoolgirl as she touches over my nipple ring.

“It’s a bit to keep girls like you quiet.” I’m only half-kidding. It’s been gnawed on a time or two, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say it felt insane.

“I didn’t think boys like you appreciated a moment of silence.” Her playful gaze meets up with mine. “I’m more of a pad-the-walls-because-there’s-going-to-be-rabid-screaming kind of a girl myself.”

“Let me guess—you’re not the one screaming.”

“Bingo.” She lands her finger over my lips, and hot damn, I do believe Piper James is trying to seduce me. And yet I’m still not buying it.

“Okay.” I pluck her finger from my lips, and dot it with a kiss before holding it hostage. “What’s turned you into a roving vixen?”

Piper pulls her finger free. “I’m starting to think it’s a wonder you get laid at all.”

“Are we back to that? I’m confused. Are you trying to land me horizontal or Winston?”

“You know him?” She looks miserably hopeful.

“Apparently not as well as you do.”

“I’m pretty sure I know him less than you think.”

“Back to the question.” This time I’m not letting her off the hook so easy. “What’s this sudden fascination with me?” Ironic, since I should be eating up this free gift like Halloween candy.

“Trust me”—she backs up, her cutthroat features returning to their proper upright, uptight, positions—“there is no fascination. You guys are all the same with non-stop sex on the brain. Hell, I bet you even named your peeper. Let’s have it. What’s your special name for your Johnson?” Her eyes slit to nothing as if it were the vilest offense. “So what is it? Little Jack Horny?”

“No, it’s The Big Bad Beast.”

Now it’s Piper’s turn to flinch.

I scoot back another few inches, putting some distance between us. “Why all the raunchy conversation?”

“I’m just being nice,” she snipes.

“You have a funny way of being nice. You’re a little tease.”

Piper sucks in a breath so hard, for a second I’m convinced she’s choking. “What did you call me?”

“A tease.” I stand strong with the accusation, but a part of me knows I shouldn’t. That conversation we had at work last week comes crashing back to me—the one in which she recanted some vague experience under the guise of third person and ended with the words the entire school pegged her a cock-tease. Shit.

“I can’t fucking believe this.” She scoops up her things and bolts for the door before retracting and digging that wig out of the trash.

“Piper”—I jump up and block the exit with my body—“I was kidding. Look, you’re sending me mixed signals. One minute, you act like you want to rip my clothes off, which you sort of did by the way.” I touch my bare chest for emphasis. “And the next, you’re biting my head off. Which is it? Are you into me, or are you pissed?”

She takes a bold step forward as her nostrils flare into my chest. “Out of my way.”

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.” I brush the hair off her shoulder, smoothing my fingers over her velvet soft waves. “You’re not a tease. I think whatever this is, it’s starting to snowball, and neither of us knows what direction to take it.”

Her watery eyes meet up with mine. Piper’s tears shine like cut glass, the red veining in her eyes translate her grief.

“I’m sorry if I was acting like a tease.” She looks down, and a fiery hot tear falls over my chest. “The truth is, I don’t know how to act around guys. There, I said it. I’ve never had a normal anything with anyone. So, if I’m coming across too strong, just let me know.” Her voice is small and meek.

I find it impossible to believe that a beautiful girl like Piper doesn’t know her way around a guy or two, not to say she’s slept with any of them. I get the idea of wanting to keep her virtue intact, and I respect it. But just seeing her like this makes me feel bad for her.

“You’re fine.” I lift her hair off her shoulder, lean in, and take in her vanilla smooth scent. “I guess the reason I went off like that is, I don’t know what you’re doing with me if you’ve got a boyfriend. That’s all.”

She shudders and cringes as if struggling to keep her anger in check.

“He’s not my anything, officially.”

A dull smile rises low on my cheek. “I guess that leaves you free to explore your options.”

Her lips curve to match mine. Our eyes lock, powerful as steel. “I guess that does.” Her lips press white a moment. “I’d better get going.” She smashes that bad Halloween wig over her head and makes her way out the door.

It feels as if a hurricane just whipped through here.

I’m pretty good at reading people, filling in the blanks, and giving them what they need. That’s what makes my little fling-ring so successful.

But Piper?

Hell. I don’t know how to begin to read that girl.

* * *

Wednesday after working elbow to elbow with Piper for two hours straight at Ryder’s downtown office, she yawns and stretches just as we’re about to call it a day.

Piper hasn’t tried to claw my eyes out yet, so I’d say everything has gone exceedingly well today. For starters, she’s ditched the bozo look and psychotic come-ons and has reverted to a relatively neutral version of herself. I’d like to think this is the real Piper James, the one I’d get to know should I stick around long enough. And everything in me wants to stick around long enough.

“You up for dinner? I’m buying.” I toss it out there casually as I slip on my flannel. The temperatures have taken a dip as September gets underway.

“Dinner?” She looks mildly confused by the concept as she finishes jotting something down.

I peer over and note she’s brushing up on her…ABCs? “Pop quiz in English?” I’m back to worrying for her just a bit.

“Very funny.” She wrinkles her nose, but it’s not until those paper blue eyes make contact with mine that my boxers start to twitch. Piper has the power to move me in the most obscene ways with the most innocent gestures. “It’s just something I need to do. It’s stupid really.” She shoves her stuff into her book bag. “But dinner?” Her eyes widen as wheels begin to churn. I’m not sure I like this. Why do I not like this? “Yeah, I’ll do dinner. You mind if I bring a guest?”

“Not at all.” We head on out, and I can’t help but feel like I’m about to mind in a very big way.

Piper rode in with Wyatt, so she hops into my truck.

“Where to, sweetie?” I head down the murky streets of Jepson as the remnants of the sun turns the world to pewter.

“Think Ink.”

“Think Ink?” My chest rattles with nerves. “Jet’s not the guest, is he?” Shit. What if she’s into him? That would explain her reluctance with me, but not a whole lot else.

“Not Jet. Him, I couldn’t care less if I ever see again. My ankle is still pretty pissed at him.”

As much as I shouldn’t be, I’m elated to hear it. Jet might be like a brother to me, but I’d much rather he find his own girl and keep his ham hocks off mine.

A sharp heat bites through me. Did I just say that? Piper’s not my girl. She’s not my anything.

I pull up to the less than desirable neighborhood and park in front of the infernal establishment responsible for turning my flesh into a walking work of art. We get out, and Piper starts walking up and down, observing the winos and the homeless men down and out on their luck. She’s got a strange look on her face, the same strange, deranged look she was sporting while wearing that nightmare on her head.

“You lose something?” I ask, trying to pull her away from the row of dirty men, half of them ogling her at this point, and I bet they’re wondering what she charges.

“Not yet.” She shoots a look to my truck as if whatever endeavor she’s about to embark on is about to happen unwillingly. “Excuse me, sir?” she says a little too loud to an older gentleman with a knit cap and an old tweed suit. He looks grungy, troubled, but I can’t smell the liquor coming off him, so I’m okay with the exchange for now. I’d interrupt and ask what this is about, but, knowing Piper, I’m sure she’d rather I find out the hard way.

“Can I help you?” He pecks his head from me to Piper, slightly stunned with that I-just-woke-up daze about him.

Piper offers a quivering smile. “My boyfriend and I would love to take you to dinner. How about it? You up for a nice juicy steak?”

“What the hell?” I pull her to the side by the elbow. “Have you lost your freaking mind?”

She hikes up on her tiptoes. “Relax!” She snipes, nearly biting my nose off. Her eyes are wild and squirrely. “I’m simply telling him you’re my boyfriend, so he feels more comfortable with the situation.”

“What situation?” Shit. Do I need to have the sheriff’s department on speed dial? This chick is panning out to be certifiable. I swear, if this turns out to be some kinky shit she’s hoping the three of us can engage in, all bets are off. I want nothing to do with the six grand. Hell—I want nothing to do with Piper. I’ll drive her straight to Wyatt’s ranch, and he can cage her up like the rest of the animals for all I care. This chick is a loon.

“Dinner!” she hisses. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, sweetheart.” She says that last word with a touch too much sarcasm. Great. Now she’s mocking me. Just what I’ve always wanted, a batshit “girlfriend” who likes to toss my balls in the air and catch them with her teeth just for the hell of it.

“What?” I try my best to whisper. “Where is your head? He could be a fucking psycho.”

“My head is right where it needs to be,” she hisses. “I’m taking some good advice and being my nice self!”

“Next time someone gives you the advice to be yourself, don’t take it.”

She swats me across the chest. “This is my treat. If you play nice, you can have a steak, too.” Her voice bounces over the deserted street so loud it comes back as an echo.

The old guy stands, wild-eyed, as he collects his bloated pillowcase. “I’m in. I haven’t had a steak in six years. Do they still use cow?”

Great. Just great.

I drive “Pete” and Piper over to the Steak Shack, where upon her request we hit the drive-through.

“We’ll be eating at a second location,” Piper says loud and staggeringly slow to the poor guy we’ve just hijacked off the mean streets of Jepson.

“Oh, boy!” Pete rubs his fingerless gloved hands together as if warming himself by a fire. “Am I ever hungry for a nice-and-juicy!”

A dull laugh rumbles through my chest. “You know what they say”—I whisper just loud enough for Piper to hear—“never let them take you to a second location.”

We get our food, and I listen as Piper barks out orders—left, right, like a drill sergeant until we end up at familiar looking terrain.

Good old Pete sits in the backseat mumbling, Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, over and over in an attempt to remember Piper’s name. She just might come out of this with a stalker yet.

“Piper?” I sit a little straighter once I get a good look at our surroundings. “We’re at Briggs.”

“Isn’t that cool? We’re going to eat in Founder’s Square!” she wails with a false sense of enthusiasm, and, in truth, I’m getting a little more than freaked out by her sudden need to perform a charitable act so publicly.

I park, and we get out, and no matter how hard I try to wrap my mind around this, I can’t seem to grasp how “cool” this really is.

She ushers Pete over toward the center of campus, to the exact locale where I saved her from getting pinned in the head by Rex’s long pass, and now I’m wondering if that was simply the universe trying to right a misstep it made about eighteen years ago.

We find our seats on a bench, and half of the girls lying on the lawn take off once they get a whiff and look at good old hungry for a nice-and-juicy Pete. I was wrong. Pete stinks like shit—literally.

Piper doles our meals before plucking out her phone and taking a few quick selfies with the poor dude. I was mildly amused and even a touch impressed with her desire to treat this man to dinner, but something about the selfie splurge doesn’t sit well with me.

Just as I’m about to ask, a couple strolls by and stops abruptly, doing a double take.

“Piper?”

I glance up to find Wyatt and his fiancée, Marley.

“Oh, hey.” Piper shoots me a nervous glance that screams get me out of this.

“What’s going on?” Wyatt does a quick assessment of the situation. He’s a smart guy. I’ll bet he’ll get to the bottom of this in ten seconds flat.

“This is Owen’s friend, Pete. We thought we’d treat him to dinner. I was going to see if there were any openings on the janitorial staff here at Briggs. He’s sort of in serious need of employment.”

“Really?” Pete perks up with a mouthful of cheesesteak. It’s not top sirloin, but nobody is complaining.

“Yes, really.” Piper scoots to the edge of the bench and nearly falls off. “So, what are you two up to?”

“Just taking an after dinner stroll.” Marley shoots me a dirty look as if I’m the offensive one around here. “Hey—you’re not the same guy that dared her to wear that crazy wig the other day, are you?”

Shit. I shoot a look to Piper. “Am I?”

“He’s slow to admit to things,” she sings. “So, dinner next Saturday right?”

“That’s right.” Now it’s Wyatt giving me the stink eye. Great. Piper’s shenanigans are about to cost me an internship, and, at the rate we’re snatching vagrants off the streets, most likely my life.

After some brief circular small talk, Wyatt and Marley take off. We finish up our meals, and Piper and I drive Pete back to the place we found him.

“What about that job? I’m real good with a mop. A broom fits pretty good in my hand, too.” The whites of his eyes glow from the backseat with hope.

Piper bites down over her lip nervously. “I’ll see about it.” She lowers her gaze to her lap. “I know where to find you.”

He thanks us profusely before getting out, and I speed us the hell away from this bizarre nightmare we seem locked in.

I drive back to Briggs and park in front of Cutler Tower before killing the engine.

“So, are you really going to help Pete find a job?” It comes out more pissed than impressed.

Piper lets out a heavy sigh that spans the width and girth of this miserable day. “I’ll help him apply. I can’t make any promises.”

“I’ll go with you.” I shrug. “Keep you safe. That can be a pretty rough neighborhood.”

“Thanks.” Her voice is soft, which only leads to me believe she’s winding up for a blowup. “I’d appreciate that. If there’s anything I can do to thank you, just let me know.” It comes from her sad, defeated.

“Can I ask what tonight was about?” I gently lift her chin with my finger, and her watery Husky blue eyes melt me. Piper shakes her head. For a girl with such a strong bite, so headstrong and beautiful, she sure spends a lot of time anguished.

“Okay—how about this—you and I have a real dinner together. Somewhere nice. A sit-down meal. Your choice. My treat.”

She opens her mouth for a moment, her face smoothing out with promise before she closes it again, the promise sliding right off her features. “Do you run?”

“Why? You have a bank heist in mind?”

“No.” She pushes out a tiny laugh. “I just miss doing the things I used to do. There was a track at my old school, and I ran every single day. I guess I miss it.”

“Okay. Dinner and a run. That sounds like a digestional issue, but I think we can make it work.”

She shakes her head, just barely. “Just the run.”

My heart sinks like a stone. I get it. She’s got Winston for those pricey sit-down dinners. It’s me she’s trying to get away from, thus the sprint.

“Just a run it is.”

Piper gets out. “Thanks again.”

She disappears into the building, and I stay out in that parking lot a lot longer than I need to, trying to figure out the inner working of Piper James’ mind. Nope, can’t do it. I’m not sure anyone can make their way through that labyrinth.

I start up the truck and slowly make my way to work.

Piper might have her secrets, but I’ve got a few of my own.