Because, I’m not letting this one slip by.
Not a chance.
Chapter 4
Mia
Susan’s Diner turns out to be exactly what I need after the red lace catastrophe—a cozy little café with strong coffee, exceptionally good cake, vintage wallpaper, and, blessedly,no cowboys in sight.
Sliding into a corner booth like I’m hiding from the law, I wrap my hands around my third espresso and try to pretend my life isn’t unraveling like cheap yarn. I lift my phone to call Brè.
But, before I can make the call, my phone buzzes. Brè’s name lights up the screen. Speak of the devil and she FaceTimes.
I answer with zero pleasantries. “Please tell me you’ve found a way to airlift me out of Texas.”
She grins, all smug chaos in red lipstick. “Better. I got you an office.”
I blink. “An office?”
“Yup, at a PR firm in Wellington. Fancy. Professional. Air-conditioning. You’re welcome.”
I nearly snort espresso out my nose. “You didwhat?”
“I called in a favor. Maybe two. Possibly flirted with someone’s assistant—I don’t know, I blacked out during the charm offensive. Point is, you now have a desk and Wi-Fi that doesn’t come with a side of cow manure.”
“Brè—”I say with a groan.
“Nope. Don’t fight me on this, Mia. You need structure. A proper desk. Somewhere to write that sarcastic masterpiece you’re about to turn this travel disaster into.”
“Oh and they're expecting you tomorrow. The address is in your email—now go play professional journalist.”
I narrow my eyes. “Is this your way of making sure I don’t hide in a diner for the next three days stress-eating biscuits?”
“It’s my way of making sure you don’t spiral, murder a local, and get yourself run out of town by the Cowboy Mafia.”
I can’t help the laugh that slips out. “You’re a menace.”
“I’m yourbestmenace,” she says sweetly, then adds, “And don’t pretend you’re not intrigued. Your best work always happens when your plans implode.”
I sigh, dramatic and loud. “Fine. I’ll go. But if this office space is full of cowboy-themed motivational posters, I’m leaving.”
“Oh please,” she smirks. “You could use some cowboy inspiration. Try not to fall in love before lunch.”
“Goodbye, Brè.”
“Adiós monchaos magnet.”
She hangs up before I can throw another sarcastic remark her way.
Finishing my espresso, I grab my phone, wallet, and trusty notebook, and brace myself for whatever this PR firm nonsense is.
***
Turns out, the PR firm is the tallest building in Wellington—which is like saying someone’s the tallest shrimp in the cocktail. A glass-fronted structure that screamscity girl baitin the middle of cowboy country.
The moment I step inside, the AC hits me like I’ve just walked into a freezer aisle, and I instantly regret not wearing sleeves.
At the front desk, a woman with sleek blonde hair and perfect eyebrows greets me with a smile that looks like it’s been practiced in the mirror, twice today.
