I got to Ryan’s office at around a quarter to four that afternoon, a bit later than I expected. Still, I hadn’t been expecting such frosty welcome.

“Mr. Conroe will be with you shortly,” the stern-faced receptionist told me. She gestured at the chairs in the waiting area.

She reminded me of the assistant principal at my elementary school, Mrs. Windsor. Even a goodie-two-shoes like I’d been knew that you did not want to get sent to Mrs. Windsor’s office. The receptionist was about thirty years younger and a lot prettier than Mrs. Windsor, but their facial expressions—the look of powerful dislike and an even more powerful disdain and boredom—were identical.

She hadn’t smiled when I entered and introduced myself. Not even one of those fake-nice smiles. Weren’t receptionists supposed to be all smiley and nice? Maybe she didn’t appreciate that I was late. I could have thrown off Ryan’s schedule, and hers.

Even so, I didn’t appreciate the attitude. I frowned right back at her and took the seat closest to the door and farthest away from her. She immediately went back to filing her nails and that was just fine by me. I didn’t need her negative vibes rubbing off on me.

Today had been a very good, very productive day. Yesterday I had no place to live, virtually no clothes, and no career prospects. Now I had all three. And Ryan. I also had Ryan.

Last night had been totally perfect. And tonight, I was hoping to seal the deal with him. After all, I didn’t have a bed yet. But Ryan did, and if I was lucky, he’d invite me over to share it with him again.

I zoned out and daydreamed about Ryan until the squishy chair I was waiting in became uncomfortable. I looked down at my phone in shock. I’d been waiting for almost an hour and a half.

Reluctantly, I approached the reception desk a second time. The woman there looked even less pleased to see me the second time around, even though I’d been sitting less than twenty feet from her this entire time. She looked at me down the bridge of her nose and widened her eyes like I had an outrageous amount of audacity to interrupt what I suspected was the slowest manicure in human history.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Could you please check with Ryan?” I asked her. “I think he’ll want to see me. We were supposed to meet at three thirty.”

She blinked at me. “Mr. Conroe be with you shortly.”

Was she, like, a glitching robot or something? Had she even checked with him? I never saw her checking with him… I decided it wasn’t worth fighting with her. It was time to channel my dad.

“Can you tell me where the ladies’ room is?” I asked politely. I’d had some time sitting uselessly in my fancy lawyer waiting room chair. Long enough to visually scope out the office. There were only two ways out of this room. One led directly outside. The other led to a hallway behind the reception desk.

The receptionist jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “To the left.”

I smiled sweetly at her. “Thanks so much.”

I went behind her and down the short hallway, and knocked on the door on the right. I might have been a goody-two-shoes in elementary school, but I learned how to commit mischief in middle school. The first rule? Forgiveness is always easier won than permission.

“Yes?” Ryan’s voice answered. I pushed open the door.

Inside, sat the biggest rock star in the world, Jason Kane. My eyes had to be the size of dinner plates. No wonder I’d been relegated to the waiting room. Rock and roll royalty was hanging out in Ryan’s office this afternoon.

“Hi Rosie,” Ryan said happily, easing perhaps one one-hundredth of my sudden burst of anxiety. He rose from behind his desk and came to hug me. “I was wondering where you were.”

I leaned against him, soaking in his affection, and decided not to admit that I’d been banished to the waiting room by his mean old shrew of receptionist. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Rosie, this is Jason,” Ryan was saying. His voice was barely audible over the rapid thumping of my heart. “Jason, this is my girlfriend Rosie.”

Girlfriend? The rapid thumbing redoubled. It was louder than a timpani drum. I smiled like an idiot and worried that my blush was so bright it could be seen from space. I had to be broadcasting my mortification to the entire galaxy.

“Hello,” I managed.

“Nice to meet you, Rosie,” Jason said pleasantly. He didn’t seem to notice that I was star struck. Maybe he was simply used to that reaction. Probably so.

Jason Kane’s band, Axial Tilt, had pretty much been the soundtrack to my high school years. I owned every single one of their albums. Even the weird one that had a bunch of country songs on it. That one had only gone double platinum instead of triple. I loved it.

And it wasn’t just me or people my age that loved Axial Tilt, everyone did. They were universally beloved in a way that few rock bands are and would be remembered for decades even if they only stayed together eight years. The majority of their fame was due to Jason Kane’s personal charisma. He was tall, talented, affable, intelligent, and sexier than anyone had the right to be. I’d definitely had a poster of him on my bedroom wall. And another, smaller one in my locker. I’m not proud of it, but it’s true.

Yet now that I saw him next to Ryan, he just didn’t do it for me anymore. He didn’t have Ryan’s classically handsome face, his adorable glasses, or his nice fashion sense. Instead, Kane was wearing a schlubby t-shirt and jeans, a hat, and had grown a scruffy goatee (I’m a fan of Jason Kane, but not at all a fan of that particular facial hair). If I hadn’t known who he was because of a serious high school freshman year phase during which time I stared at his picture for at least half an hour a day, I would not have recognized him. I’d officially grown out of my Jason Kane phase.

“Rosie, I’m glad you’re here,” Ryan was saying as I gaped. “Maybe you can help me talk some sense into Jason.”

“Hmm?” I said absently. Then his words hit a second later.

Me, help Jason Kane? That’s rich. I bit back a tiny, hysterical giggle. The smothered laugh danced around the back of my throat, sending tickles down my middle. Help Jason Kane. Right. Help him clean the fourteen toilets in his gigantic mansion, maybe. Help him by fetching some coffee, maybe.

“What about attorney-client privilege,” Jason groused, although he was smiling and looked relaxed and happy. The two were clearly friends. I couldn’t imagine having a friend as famous as Jason Kane. What did you get him for his birthday? He probably had everything already. Maybe he didn’t have the Chia pet that looked like him. I had one of those in high school, actually…

“You can waive it if you want,” Ryan replied, rolling his eyes. “As your attorney, I honestly think it would do you some good to get a fresh perspective. You’re too close to this issue.”

Jason shrugged. “Alright.”

Ryan smirked. “Alright,” he echoed, but without the thick, rural Texas accent. Then, he turned to me. “So, Jason is originally from a small town in west Texas. It’s pretty much in the middle of nowhere. The sort of place that people move from, and not to.”

I nodded. Dinalou, Texas. Population almost zero. Yeah. I knew where he was from. I knew more trivia about the stranger sitting in front of me than I wanted to admit. There was a time when I absolutely devoured any magazine article, Buzzfeed list, or news story about the man.

“So, in this town that Jason’s from,” Ryan was continuing, oblivious to my embarrassment, “there’s some real estate that belongs to Jason. About ten acres of mostly empty land. He grew up there. But it’s not a place he wants to live ever again.” He paused and looked at Jason. “Am I accurately representing things so far?” he asked.

Jason nodded. He was fiddling with his baseball cap like he was vaguely uncomfortable. “Yep. But you should also mention that my family has lived there for well over a hundred years.”

“Ok,” Ryan conceded. He turned to me. “Rosie, Jason’s family has also lived there for generations.”

I blinked. “Got it.” Then I paused. “Do they still live there?”

“No, they’re all dead now,” Jason replied. “Nobody lives there anymore.”

“But this land, it has, um, sentimental value to you?” I asked delicately.

He grimaced. “It has non-monetary value. I hesitate to call myself sentimental.”

He sounded pretty sentimental to me. He wrote love songs for a living. I was pretty sure there was nothing more sentimental…

“Ok,” I told the two of them. “So, what’s the problem?”

Ryan smiled. “The problem is that someone wants to buy that land and develop it.”

Now, I was confused. “Why is that a problem?” I looked back and forth between the two men. “If Jason doesn’t want to sell the land, he doesn’t have to sell it.” I frowned. “I mean, I assume he doesn’t need the money.”

They both laughed at the preposterous idea of Jason needing money. Ha ha. “No,” Ryan replied, “he doesn’t need the money.” He sighed. “This is the complicated part. The man who wants to develop the land is the ex-fiancé of Jason’s wife, Wendy, who is also from the same horrible tiny town that Jason is. Her family wants to see the development go through, because it will benefit the town. They also happen to like the ex-fiancé more than they like Jason.”

“Wow. Ok.” I shook my head and looked at Jason. “So,” I told him, “it sounds like you have to choose between screwing over your former rival or causing tension with your in-laws. Is there any chance you just really hate your in laws and want to see them unhappy? Because that would really simplify things.”

Jason burst out laughing. “Ok, I can see why you invited her in on this!” he told Ryan. “She’s like you, only more.”

Ryan squeezed my hand and looked down at me with pride. “Rosie’s got a talent for telling it like it is. Are you going to answer her question?” he asked Jason.

Jason sighed. “I don’t want to see my in-laws unhappy,” he said eventually. “I’m not that vindictive...” he paused. “Actually, let me clarify. I’m not vindictive toward my in-laws. I am vindictive toward Brett. I just really don’t want Brett to win. If I sell him the land, he wins. If he wins, I lose.”

“What about your wife?” I asked, feeling like this was probably the most important factor. “What does she want you to do?”

Jason sighed again. “At this point, I think she just wants me to make decision and she doesn’t care what it is.”

“But she’d be happier if you did what her family wanted?” I guessed.

He nodded.

It was a complicated question. In his place, I wouldn’t want to sell the property either. I loved screwing over my enemies as much as the next person. However, I could feel that Ryan wanted Jason to sell the property, and that his wife wanted the problem gone, too. Happy wife, happy life. I started formulating a plan, trying to think three steps ahead…

“You could just gouge the guy on the purchase price,” I suggested. “Then you’ll feel like you at least got one up on him.”

Ryan and Jason both nodded. “The current offer,” Ryan told me, “is well over three times market value. It’s a ridiculous amount of money for land that’s virtually worthless in its current state.”

“Wow, this guy really wants that land.” I thought about it for a moment. “But his victory is contingent on having control over the land and developing it however he wants…” I bit my lip and both men stared at me in confusion as I thought out loud. “If you really want to win, you have to make sure that he appears to win while actually losing hard, and all the while ensuring that your in-laws can’t complain…” I grinned. “I know what you should do. You take the purchase price for three times the market value, but you introduce a few conditions of your own.”

“What kind of conditions?” Jason asked. He seemed intrigued by the idea. Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose in what looked like frustration. I tightened my snare.

It was now my turn to shrug. “Whatever you think will make him the most frustrated and annoyed. How about that you get final approval on all development plans, even on things like the house colors. Then you require that he jumps through all sorts of green building and sustainability hoops that probably will make him want to pull his hair out. You could even be really evil and require that your family’s house be set aside as a historical landmark or a protected wetland something. Find a reason it can’t be built on. You don’t have to choose between selling it or keeping it. You could do both.”

Jason stared at me and then laughed. He shook his head in disbelief. “That’s diabolical. I love it.”

I smiled my most modest smile. Time to spring the trap. “Or, you could be the bigger person and just sell the land. If you don’t ever want to go back and live on that property, you’ve kind of already won. You got Wendy, and you got out of the town. He got nothing half as good as that.” I smiled at him. “Plus, I’m sure making your wife happy is worth more than seeing that guy you hate be miserable.”

Ryan was hiding a smile. Jason looked disappointed and somewhat chagrined.

“Well if you have to go and be all reasonable…” he trailed off. Ryan and I watched him for a moment. “I guess I’ll just sell the stupid thing and be done with it.”

“I’ll draw up the paperwork,” Ryan said.

“I should fire Ryan and make you my lawyer,” Jason said to me.

I shook my head. “No thanks. I’m not cut out for this line of work. I wouldn’t make a good lawyer.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Actually,” Ryan interjected, “Rosie’s a singer.”