“Do you know when he’s going to be back?” It’s already after nine and I’ve been going all day. I’m barely functioning on the limited sleep I managed last night.

Lars shrugs. “Dunno. He left in kind of a hurry and said he’d try to be back before closing.”

“He’d try?” I parrot. “What the hell could he be doing at this time of night?”

Lars gives me an apologetic look. “I honestly don’t know. He’s been holed up in his office most of the day, and when he’s come out he’s stuck around for a few minutes before he had to field another call. Do you want me to tell him you stopped by?”

I wave him off, feeling pathetic and highly annoyed. “No. Don’t bother. I’ll just talk to him tomorrow. I’m beat, and I need actual sleep tonight.”

“Celebrations went well into the wee hours of the morning, huh?” He tips his chin up and nods knowingly.

I don’t bother to respond. I’m sure my expression says everything.

“Aren’t you a wild one? All sweet and pretty and proper and buttoned up on the surface, but you leave some marks behind when you really let loose?” He cocks a brow in question.

I glare at him while my face turns the same color as the red in his plaid shirt. There were some scratch marks on Ronan’s back last night and my handprint on his butt from me smacking it, telling him to go harder. The handprint was likely gone by the morning, but I’m sure the scratches are still there. “What the hell has he been saying to you?”

Lars’s grin widens. “Absolutely nothing. Ronan couldn’t be more tight-lipped if he tried. It was just a guess on my part, and obviously I was right. Ronan’s a lucky asshole.”

I laugh, unsure how he managed to turn that into a compliment. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I consider texting Ronan when I get home, but I figure it’s his turn to reach out. I change into comfy clothes but don’t even manage to wash my face or take my makeup off before I pass out. On top of my covers.

The next morning I’m slightly better rested and feeling less like garbage and more half-human. I have a text from Ronan about being sorry that he missed me last night, but he’ll make it up to me. It’s followed with a slew of emojis, including eggplants, the panting-tongue thing and a bunch of hand symbols that indicate what he may be planning to do with them.

Normally I’d think it was cute. But this morning I do not. I decide not to respond right away because I’m inclined to say something snarky and less than friendly in my current, grumpy state. Clearly the sleep wasn’t enough.

As it turns out, I don’t run into Ronan.

Because he’s not at The Knight Cap. His car isn’t in the parking lot and hasn’t been there all day. I may or may not have looked outside every single hour to check.

“Okay, what’s the deal?” Daphne asks when I come back down the hall after checking for the seven millionth time if Ronan is here. “I don’t know what’s going on, but maybe you need a cupcake and some valium so you can chill the eff out.”

“I’m totally chill,” I snap.

She grabs me by the elbow and steers me toward the office.

“What’re you doing?”

“Avoiding a scene. In you go.” She shoves me inside and closes the door behind her, barricading me in.

I fling my arms in the air. “I don’t have time for this! There’s too much stuff to do!”

“Take a breath, Blaire. We are ninety-five percent ready for tomorrow. It’s just little things that need to be taken care of. Social media is blowing up and people are excited. But you’re freaking out poor Callie the way you’re snapping every time she asks you a question.”

“I’m not snappy!” I close my eyes and rub my temple. “Sorry. I’m just… overwhelmed and I thought I’d get some actual help from Ronan, but he’s nowhere to be found and left me to do everything.”

“Isn’t he next door?”

“No. He’s not. He hasn’t been there all day and he wasn’t there yesterday.”

Daphne’s tone softens. “But you know where he is?”

“Running errands, apparently. The last time I actually saw him for more than five distracted seconds was two nights ago when he stayed at my place after he found out he won Best Bar.” I pace my small office. It’s not big enough for effective, angry pacing, though, so I’m forced to turn around after two steps and then I run right into Daphne. “What if he’s using me as a means to an end? What if it was convenient to bone the chick who’s super organized and loves to take control of events? What if he was having his cupcake and eating it, too!”

“Pretty sure he has been having his cupcake and eating it, too,” Daphne mutters.

“This isn’t a joke. He’s been MIA the past two days and I’ve had to manage everything! With your help, obviously, and Callie’s and his staff, but he’s supposed to be here and involved and he’s not.”

“Have you tried asking him where he’s been and what he’s doing?”

“Well, he’d have to answer his damn messages for me to be able to confirm that. And now that he’s won the competition and his grandfather’s bar is doing well he’s probably going to go ahead and open that brewery, and that’ll be the end of us.”

Daphne arches a brow. “You’re in a pretty fatalistic mood.”

“I’m being realistic. Think about it. First all the pranks, hijacking my grand opening, the freaking glitter bomb. And then we call a truce when D&B opens and start throwing all these events together. They benefit him more than they do me. And there was that time one of Tori’s people came to scope things out. It was the same morning Ronan convinced me to stay at his place for breakfast.”

“That seems like a pretty unfortunate coincidence,” Daphne hedges.

“Except he made it to work in time to meet up with Tori’s people and win them over with his charm and his charisma.” I throw my hands in the air. “What about the time I found him making cappuccinos, only the damn machine crapped its pants while he was right there! If I hadn’t had someone to fix it, I would’ve been in a huge bind on a seriously busy night.”

“I didn’t know about that.” Daphne chews her bottom lip.

“It got fixed, but it was expensive, and then everything was fine and I forgot about it. But then Lars gives me the name of a shitty comedian on the same night Tori shows up. What if Ronan’s distracted me with his exceptional bedroom skills and all along he’s been sabotaging me! Remember how crazy it used to be in the food truck business? People constantly slashing tires, fighting over what area they were allowed to target. It was nasty. Maybe he’s only been sleeping with me so he can win this damn thing and get what he wants, which is his brewery!”

“That would be a pretty calculated, somewhat sociopathic thing to do, don’t you think?” Daphne sounds less like the voice of reason and more like she’s just as worried as I am now.

“Well, he won the entire competition, and Gramps will fork over the start-up money for his brewery, which is always what he was working toward. And now here I am, with no win and an absentee boyfriend who’s probably going to dump me.” I flap my hands in front of my face as if that’s going to stop the tears. “Damn it! I can’t afford a meltdown right now!”