“Are you serious?” Grace asked over dinner. She topped off her wine glass with a bottle that was already nearing empty and shook her head. “Fury is out in the middle of nowhere. What the hell are you going to do out there?”

I’d never been to Fury, so I had no idea. I’d looked it up on the Internet and saw that it had everything a person needed. There wasn’t a Wayfair or a Coohills, but there was a diner, a mini-mart, and a liquor store. All I needed was ramen, wine, and a roof over my head.

“Stand on my own two feet, hopefully,” I said. “I can’t stay here. I’m being thrown out at the end of the month. This is a sign. It’s got to be.”

I was never one to put a lot of faith in signs, but an eviction notice followed by a house that now belonged to me seemed like a sign. A big sign. A neon blinking sign that shouted “this way.”

“It’s a sign that says you’re an idiot,” Grace answered. “I told you that you could stay with me.”

Staying at Grace’s would be like staying at those hotels where they rented the rooms by the hour. She liked to “entertain” all the time. I’d spend my life on the couch with a pillow over my head.

“I’ve stayed at your house before, so I think I’ll pass. Remember Mark the moaner?” Lord, the man had sounded like a cat in heat with the way he’d screeched and howled. I’d sworn he would exit her room with his back torn to shreds, but the man had literally skipped his way to the door smiling like one of Grams’s clowns. “Nope, I have to be an adult, Grace. I appreciate the offer, but I refuse to be a sadder version of Kramer from Seinfeld. At least he had a job.”

“You could never be a Kramer. You’re not tall enough, and you’re better looking.”

I twirled my spaghetti on my fork. “Thank God for that. If I were saddled with a face like him, I’d be in trouble.” People could overlook my contacts, they could overlook my scar, but to have a face that looked like a terrier mated with a roach would be unbearable.

“Life comes in cycles. Yours is going to turn around. I promise.”

“You forgot to take out your magic wand and sprinkle fairy dust over me. That’s the only way these godmother things work.” I cut the baseball-size meatball into pieces. “I need to move forward with my life. Stagnation leads to disaster. No job, no home, no man, no hope. Maybe this is how I work it all out.”

“I could never move to a small town. It would only take me a week to work my way through the single men.”

I sipped my wine and laughed. “Maybe you can give them an extra night or two and it would take you twice as long to harvest the field of eligible bachelors.” I looked around the room because I already knew Grace had scoped someone out. Her eyes kept drifting to a guy at the bar. Definitely her type. Blue suit. Blue shirt. Blue tie. The man was a human blue jay. “So tell me who’s on the menu this week, and don’t say the guy at the bar. He’s boring.”

“How can you say that? You don’t even know him.” He glanced at her, and she licked her lips. The trap was set.

“He’s wearing all blue. Lord, he probably has blue balls too, which means he’ll be a one-second man.”

Her eyes tipped to the ceiling in exasperation. “But he’s wearing a Zegna suit.”

I looked over to see that he’d turned toward us. “And a wedding ring.”

“The good ones are always married.” She poured the rest of the wine into her glass and caught the drop running down the bottle with her fingers. “Waste not—want not.”

“You waste? Not a chance. Just don’t fill up on the losers. There’s a winner out there for you somewhere.” I pulled the napkin to my mouth, then set it on the table. “I’ll keep my eyes open in Fury.”

* * *

Five days later, I packed up my clothes, my blowup mattress, and the few belongings I kept of Grams’s and headed toward Fury. I even had room for my lawn chair and TV tray.

It was odd that Grams had never mentioned the property. Odder yet that we’d never driven to this side of the state. We’d always stayed south and west. Then again, she hadn’t driven, period, but when Gramps was alive, we’d done some road trips to Pueblo and Taos. Never to Boulder or Vail or Breckenridge.

I entered the small town with a feeling of dread. I would have closed my eyes like I did when I was afraid to see something, but I was driving, and my first encounter shouldn’t be with the police.

To my surprise, the town looked cozy in a crazy off-kilter sort of way. It looked familiar, and yet it didn’t.

I passed by a sign that read “Welcome to Fury.” Whoever named this town must have had a chip on their shoulder. Who named a town Fury? It was like naming it “Rage” or “Anger” or “Wrath.” With the colorful flowerpots hanging from the main street’s light posts, the place looked like something that should be called “Contentment” or “Cheer.” In a way, I suppose Fury sounded cooler; it gave the town an edge of mystery.

Grr. My stomach grumbled. There wasn’t much by way of options for food, but there was a diner. Its name was unique too. It was called The Diner. No confusing that for anything else, and with the sheriff’s car in the parking lot, I knew it had to be good. If the locals ate there, then it was safe to say the food was okay. Then again, this was Fury, and The Diner was probably the only place to eat.

I parked my Jeep and walked inside. A pretty blonde passed by and told me to sit anywhere I liked. I found my way to a side table that gave me a bird’s-eye view of the place. To love a place was to know a place, and the only way to know a place was to pay attention, so I sat alone and watched life whirl around me.

“What can I get you to drink?” the blonde named Hannah asked.

I looked around as if the answer would be found on the walls. A picture of a thick chocolate malt decorated the space above my table. It was another sign. “I’ll have a chocolate malt.”

Hannah rolled her eyes the way an irritated teen would. She looked over her shoulder to a booth up front. As soon as she saw the man sitting there, her look turned from resting bitch face to girl in love. “It’ll take a while.” She stared at me for a minute more, like she was waiting for me to change my mind.

My lips turned up into a smile I knew would never reach my eyes because I had to pull this smile straight from my ass. “Extra malt, please.”

“That costs more.” She turned around and headed to a back counter where I watched her pull out a stand mixer and an ice cream scoop.

Who cared if it was extra? I had several thousand dollars in my bank account thanks to Grams, and I was going to have a chocolate malt with extra malt if I wanted one. Off to the side, Hannah tossed the ingredients into the mixture like she was shoveling dirt into a pit. Then she finished it off with a disdainful splash of milk. The thought crossed my mind that she could poison me. She didn’t have that girl-next-door demeanor. She was straight out of central casting for Mean Girls. Oh well, death by chocolate malt didn’t sound all that bad.

Not in the mood to let this girl ruin my moment. I stared ahead toward the man in the booth. He was really cute—like way cute, and I found myself gawking at him. I reached up to make sure no drool had dripped down my chin.

He turned my way as if he knew my eyes were on him, and my heart halted for a beat. He was more than handsome, he was familiar—and yet he couldn’t be. Adrenaline raced through my veins until my heart rate rivaled a hummingbird’s speed.

Hannah slammed my chocolate shake on the table in front of me. “The eyes are fine, sweetie, but keep your hands off, okay? Hawk is mine.”

“Right,” I said. “Not a problem.” Hawk? Just kill me now.

The burger and fries I ordered didn’t please not-so-happy Hannah either. At least she didn’t tell me the extra ketchup would cost more.

While I waited for my lunch, Hannah did her best to gain the attention of the man she called Hawk, but he didn’t seem interested. Irritated was more like it.

The girl had excellent taste in men. I couldn’t fault her for claiming him. He was tall, dark, and detrimental in one package. He exuded a fuck-off attitude. That was apparent when the sheriff approached his table.

I heard something about a motorcycle, bits and pieces that sounded like threats. It was when the sheriff poked the man in the shoulder that Hawk let me see his true colors. It was like watching a dragon come to life. He stood from the booth and towered over the sheriff who, to his credit, didn’t flinch but did rest his hand on his service weapon.

Hawk pulled money out of his pocket and threw it on the table.

The sheriff said in a deadly tone, one that could be heard clearly across the room, “I’m watching you.” It was straight out of a horror flick. He sounded like the psychotic guy that calls the babysitter and says, “I know what you did last summer.”

Hawk stood his ground. He looked the sheriff in the eye and said, “Fuck you.” A man of few words, but he was clear and concise. I liked that in a man. No dicking around, just said what was on his mind.

Hannah was back with my meal and a new attitude. “I hate it when Junior is here. He’s always on Hawk’s ass.” She plopped into the seat across from me like we were friends. “You just passing through?”

“No, I inherited a house here on a street called Abundant.” It was funny to look at my new address: 425 Abundant, Fury, Colorado. After seeing the sheriff and Hawk argue, I suspected that the address had painted an accurate picture. There seemed to be an abundance of agitation here in Fury.

“That neighborhood is a shithole. Mostly abandoned twenty years ago, but I heard they were auctioning off the property. Let’s hope yours is livable.” She smiled, but her sharp tongue lashed at me. “If not, call me, and I’ll put together a to-go meal for you to take with you on your way out of town.”

Of course it would be a shithole. Nothing in my life came easy, so why not add in a place that was probably better off being condemned?

“I guess I’ll see in a few minutes whether I’m staying or going.”

Once the last fry mopped up the pool of ketchup, I paid for my meal. I even tipped the blonde banty rooster well. I didn’t need to make any enemies on my first day. That could wait until tomorrow.

My pulse picked up the minute I left the diner. This was it. I was heading for my new home. There were only two outcomes. The house would work … or it wouldn’t.