On Saturday, I slept in till after eight, which was quite a feat for the girl who had inherited the Morning Person Gene from her former military father and was usually out of bed with the birds each day. Perhaps it was the Advil PM I'd downed at bedtime the night before to combat the pain and stiffness that had settled into my joints since the accident. My first conscious thought was: Don't move. Because as soon as I did...

"Sweet, holy mother!"

Tears sprang to my eyes as I forced my legs toward the side of the bed. I groaned and prayed for death. For a moment, I considered pulling the comforter up over my head and hiding there all day, but my sore arms couldn't bear the weight of the blanket. Ultimately, thoughts of roller skates and West Adler slipped past the suffocating clouds of agony and coaxed me from my fluffy cocoon.

My body almost audibly creaked as I wrenched myself out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom for a few more caplets of ibuprofen. I winced as I pulled the bandage off my bloody elbow. Then I poured hydrogen peroxide over the wound and swore as it bubbled on the raw flesh. I recovered it with a thick piece of gauze, a strip of plastic wrap, and enough athletic tape to bind the hull of the Titanic. The waterproofing was necessary because braving the shower was next.

And the shower was a mistake, no matter what Most Eligible Bachelor might have been looming in the future of my day. The hot water seared into scrapes and cuts too small for the naked eye to see. And if I thought washing and conditioning my hair was painful, it didn't even compare to the pain of blow drying.

"The things we do for men," I whined to my reflection in the mirror over the roar of the dryer.

Before finally leaving the bathroom, I gathered my dirty laundry from the basket and carried it to the washer in the hallway.

Olivia didn't emerge from her bedroom until almost time for lunch. I was folding my load of whites on the couch when she stumbled out of her room like she'd awoken from the dead. Her wavy brown hair was matted across her face, and her eyes were bloodshot and swollen. I had honestly never seen her look worse, and considering we'd known each other longer than I could remember, that was saying something.

I dropped the pair of cotton shorts I was folding onto my lap. "Whoa. Rough night?"

She rubbed her nose, then shuffled behind me toward the kitchen. "Some days, I really think I mortgaged my soul to buy this restaurant, only to put myself into an early grave."

"What happened this time?"

Olivia was the owner of a trendy hotspot in East Nashville called Lettuce Eat. Her restaurant specialized in farm-to-table cuisine and bad jokes. Each menu item was a silly pun rather than an appetizing description that actually made sense.

Case in point? Their newest side dish—Bitch, Peas—based on the current hottest song on the country charts.

Fortunately, the food was delicious and worthy of all the hype the names generated.

She pulled a mug from the cabinet and put it under the spout of the Keurig before pressing the start button. "I had a waitress poison her ex-boyfriend's dinner last night."

My mouth fell open. "No."

"Yes." She got my carton of milk out of the refrigerator. "The girl came in all red faced and snot nosed last week because, apparently, he cheated on her."

I sighed. "You're such a sympathetic boss."

When the coffee maker hissed to a stop, Olivia poured in the milk and carried her mug to the opposite end of the sectional sofa. "You have no idea the crap I deal with. Anyway, he came in last night to talk to her and had dinner at the bar." She propped her feet up on the coffee table. "Well, I guess he has a severe peanut allergy and she holds a bit of a grudge."

I pinched my lips together.

She nodded. "The girl poured about a half a cup of our Thai peanut sauce all over his grilled Marco Pollo chicken before slamming it down in front of him. We got the whole thing on the security camera."

"What happened to him?" I asked.

"Anaphylactic shock. Stopped breathing and everything. We had to call an ambulance." She slurped as she drank. "The cops came and arrested her right before closing. I was at the police station until about four this morning."

I cut my eyes over at her. "Are you sure you didn't poison someone? That totally sounds like something you would do."

She grinned. "I know, right? But it really wasn't me."

I laughed and shook my head.

"My job is never boring. What happened to you yesterday? Why were you getting into cars with strangers? Didn't your daddy warn you about that shit?"

I balled a pair of ankle socks together and added them to the stack on the coffee table. "Yes. My dad would have a stroke if he knew. Don't you dare tell him."

"I won't. What happened?"

"I got in a wreck."

She frowned. "Who did you hit?"

My mouth fell open. "Hey! How do you know someone didn't hit me?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You backed into the building manager's golf cart the day you moved in, and you took out the security arm at the front gate of the complex just two weeks ago."

"I didn't know it came down between every car!"

"There's a sign, Lucy."

I opened my mouth for a rebuttal, but I didn't have one.

"Nobody was hurt, right?" she asked.

I shook my head. "I'm really sore, but it's nothing serious. My car, on the other hand..." My bottom lip poked out. "The guy at the body shop said to prepare for a total loss. The adjuster is supposed to be there on Monday."

"That sucks."

"I know. The truck I rear-ended barely had a scratch. It messed up his bumper," I said.

She made a sour face. "I'd hate to see your insurance payments." She nudged me with her socked foot. "I just had a position open up on my wait staff if you need some extra income."

I laughed. "No thanks, but I appreciate the offer."

"How did you get home from work yesterday if you don't have a car?" she asked.

"Had to call an Uber," I said. "On the upside—"

"There's an upside to a traffic accident?"

"I met someone."

"Who?"

"The guy I rear-ended."

She snickered behind her cup like a twelve-year-old boy who'd heard his first dirty joke.

"Really mature, Olivia."

"Is this guy the reason you want to go see roller derby today?"

I put the laundry basket on the floor and tucked my legs underneath me. "Yes. He's a sponsor of the team."

"What's his name?"

"Have you heard of Adler Construction?"

She shrugged. "Sure. I've seen their signs."

"His name is West Adler," I said.

Her face scrunched up. "That's not a guy's name. It's a street name." She made the shape of a phone with her hand and pressed it to the side of her face. "Hey, Lucy. I'll meet you this afternoon at the corner of Main and West Adler."

I threw a couch cushion at her, then winced from the pain.

Laughing, she shielded her coffee from my attack.

"If he asked you to come, why do I have to go?" she asked.

"Well, he didn't ask me."

She blinked with surprise. "So we're stalking him."

"No!" Yes, I was totally stalking him. "I'm just hoping to run into him again."

She got up and walked toward the kitchen, glancing back over her shoulder as she went. "Not that I'm an expert on guys or anything, but I don't think the way to a man's heart is by crashing into his car multiple times."

"You know what I mean."

"Well, whatever the reason, I'm glad you're getting out of the house to go somewhere other than work." She opened the refrigerator door. "Have you done anything fun since you moved here?"

I folded a white camisole into a perfect square. "Does visiting you at work count?"

"No."

My nose wrinkled. "Then no." I tried to remember the last time I'd been out, period, even before I moved to Nashville. Nothing easily came to mind.

"And, of all things to do in this great city, you want to go watch roller derby," she said.

"I spent a lot of time on their website yesterday. It looks like fun. Have you ever been?" I asked.

"No." She returned a second later carrying one of the yogurts I'd bought. "But I've seen their flyers up all over East Nashville."

I pointed at her. "Are you going to eat all my food?"

She spoke around the spoon in her mouth. "I'll pay you back."

I pushed myself off the couch, then bent gingerly to pick up my laundry basket. "What should I wear tonight?"

"Clothes."

"I don't know why I waste my breath talking to you," I said, shaking my head as I crossed the room.

"Hey! What time are we leaving?" she called out as I walked down the hall.

"Doors open at six!"

***

New chapter coming Friday. Add it to your Library and follow me now so you don't miss out!